School Days: The wonderful world of 2nd grade

Childhood is sacred.

2nd grade in particular is a year I hold dear.  That's when I met my best childhood friend, Kimber (short for Kimberly.  Whatever you do, don't call her "Kim", though I'm allowed to on occasion for a laugh.)

Worthy interjection - I just looked over at Matt who is using a femur bone as a back scratcher.

Back to my story.

She had permed hair and pierced ears, and I thought she was the cat's meow.  I still do.

She was the tallest in the class, and I was the shortest.  Now, we're all evened out and about the same height.  Funny how that happens.

Here we are in our 8-year old glory on class picture day.  Kimber is the sweet, serene one in the back row. I'm the dark, eager-eyed one in the front row.

representing the ECS lions circa 1989

And here we are celebrating our 30th birthdays (which are actually nowhere near each other on the calendar, but we just celebrated both when she came to visit me in CO).

We value the same things but have opposite personalities in some ways, which, I think makes for a good friendship.  She sharpens me and has proven over the years to be loyal, steadily kind, and wise.  She's currently in the process of adopting a boy (or two!) from Ethiopia.  If you are interested in reading about her journey, you can read about it here.

I pray that my students will find true and faithful friendships amongst each other.  It's sweet to watch them form, knowing how long they may last.

This is my ninth year of teaching (tap tap, is that number right?), but my first year to teach 2nd grade.  AND I LOVE IT.  Having spent my previous years in 1st grade, I find that 2nd graders are, well, a year farther along than 1st graders.  Obvious yes, but worth stating because that one year of emotional, social, and academic development is a huge leap when comparing a beginning first grader to a beginning 2nd grader.

It helps, too, that I have a delightful group of students.  (I am protecting their privacy by not posting their precious faces to this blog.)

Before the school year began, my first order of business was setting up my classroom - a place where I could feel ownership and work efficiently and effectively.  That meant unpacking my boxes, arranging furniture, organizing cabinets, and going through the many files I inherited from the previous teachers of that classroom.

The curtains, I decided, were a distraction to me and had to go.  Think: long, dingy white with vertical, multicolor, pastel stripes and lavender ruffles on both the top and the bottom to add a touch of sass I guess.  I was hesitant to take them down right away, not knowing if some sweet old lady in the church sewed them (my school is part of a church and shares the same building).  After asking and being assured that this was not the case and that I was certainly free to take them down, I set to work with a song in my heart (Hallelujah chorus) and a pep in my step.

After replacing the curtains, finding some bookshelves for sale at Target ($15!), unpacking my books, designating places for various resources and materials, and semi-organizing those aforementioned files, I had a room in which I felt ready to teach America's youth.

Charlotte Mason (here I go), founder of the homeschooling movement waaay back when (1800s), said that the home is the best atmosphere for learning and therefore a classroom environment should be homelike and natural (paraphrased).  To that end I aimed, and here is my simple classroom when all was fini.

I would love to let more light in, but there's a party going on behind those right-side curtains:  boarded windows, to block the heat of the sun I'm told.  It does get hot in KC.

Since children's affinities are still being shaped, I want to be careful what I put in front of them, not just putting up any old silly thing to teach them to love it.  A place of education should lift a child higher than himself, higher than what he may be used to, higher than what he may initially choose for himself.  So I think it an important responsibility to influence a child's tastes for what is lovely and real.

Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy
—think about such things.  Philippians 4:8

I admit that I grew over time into my educational philosophy, having not emerged from college with my present mindset.  In fact, when I first started teaching, it looked like a circus threw up in my classroom.  I shudder to think about all the cheesy, unnecessary, non-educational junk I so proudly displayed and spent HOURS creating and money buying.  And the poor children's attention spans - how can they learn to focus best for a long period of time when every inch of the room is overly stimulating and is assaulting their senses, screaming for their attention?  I think they just learn to pay little attention to all of it, instead of a lot of attention to any one thing.

While not all bad, the teacher stores are a business.  A very lucrative business.

Enough on that.  (How I drone on sometimes!)

While I do strongly believe in modeling organization to my students, when they leave to go home for the day, my work area looks more like this.  I considered cleaning it off before showing it here, but then thought better of it.  This is reality.

My heart is bursting with thankfulness to the Lord for this humble job at this humble school that has quickly become a place of gracious purpose for me.  

One thing I like to do is periodically read back through my old journals to remember where I was at this time during a past year and what God was teaching me then.

Today, I was reading an entry from September 2010, exactly two years ago.  I was wondering about what purpose I would have if Matt got into med school.  Matt and I had just discussed postponing starting a family.  My immediate reaction was ready acceptance/my typical "take-one-for-the-team, stay optimistic" attitude.  Matt knows me well enough that he pointedly asked how I felt three times.  After that third time, my tears quietly came and I realized I was disappointed.

I love this quote: "Thoughts untangle themselves through honest lips and pencil tips."

As I spoke, my true thoughts started to untangle themselves, and I was finally able to articulate that the decision to give up my beloved place of work at the time for Matt to pursue med school in another state was made easier for me by the thought of having a baby.  Releasing one purposeful position (teacher) for another (mother) made me look forward to the changes on the horizon.  Now though, it felt like Matt would be moving on to bigger and better things, and I would just be...moving.

While I was excited for Matt and eager to support him, at the same time, I was asking "What of me, Lord?"  I didn't want to be overlooked and forgotten.  And while cognitively I knew that He would not abandon me and would lead me..., my heart desperately needed His personal reassurance and hope that He would grant me fulfilling purpose.

Over the next months, moments of uncertainty came and went, each time the Lord drawing me back to remembering His sovereign shepherding of me in the past.  There's nothing that so boosts my confidence in Him like remembering what He has already done.

And now, 2 years later, I can use this present time as one of my future memories to look back on and say, "The Lord heard me.  He didn't forget me.  He never abandoned me.  Though He gave me a different purpose than I thought I would have right now, in His plan, I have experienced satisfaction."

So while there is no baby in my arms, my heart is full.

I love spending my days training and guiding the 18 children who have been entrusted to me.  Children are a gift from the Lord - Psalm 127:3. And these students are the children He has seen fit to gift me with right now.

Liberty Fall Festival

I took advantage of some more free entertainment today and made my way up to the Liberty Fall Festival.  (Liberty is a town just north of Kansas City.)  I met up with some new friends from my church small group.

First, we watched the hometown parade.  Down the street came several LOUD vrooming dune buggies (babies were crying), cheerleaders, trucks advertising politicians, high school mascots, and a guy dressed like a christmas tree.  I didn't quite know what to make of it all.

Then we just mozied around.  There were carnival rides (no thanks) and turkey legs and pumpkins and people selling their homemade sauces, soaps, scarves, and jewelry...  One lady was giving out free hugs.

Don't you love repainted, distressed furniture?  So much character.

And right there among all the fun and festivities I looked up and saw this - a bank robbed by none other than Jesse James himself.

Nothing like paying homage to a notorious criminal

The more time I spend here, the more I am coming to know and appreciate the local "flavor."

The Lord has provided different pockets of community for me in this new place.  The people pictured above are lovely and have become one of those cherished pockets these past few weeks.  I am so grateful for them.

Huh...it's not about me

I was afraid I would fail him.  I was terrified of failing him.

(It had been a long day.  The kind of day when I become keenly aware of my inadequacies.)

I was shaking from crying.  I was undone.

What if I wouldn't be a good enough working wife while he was in med school?

What if I would not be emotionally available to him as much as I would want and he would need, especially if my job required a big piece of myself? 

What if I dropped the ball and did not have energy to clean the house regularly and create a peaceful study environment for him?

What if I couldn't be what he needed?

What if....I wasn't enough for him?


Then, a wise friend reminded me that I WILL inevitably fail him and in fact already have.

And the Lord pointed out how many times the word "I" was in my thinking.

And I heard Him say,

"I know you doubt yourself, and yet your natural ability (or lack thereof) to be extraordinary is not to be your concern. I am the only one who fills everything in every way.  I am the one Matt needs.  I will be enough for him.  And for you.  I am extraordinary.  You need not be."

Sweet truth washing over me.

Yes. Yes.

It's okay to cry.

Okay, Lord.

Trust me.

Okay, Lord.

"When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and took note that these men had been with Jesus."
                                                                                                                                         Acts. 4:13

The Plaza Art Fair

While rhythm and balance have eluded me the past month and a half, I feel things starting to even out a bit, and I'm finding my niche.  I've even enjoyed exploring the city some more, which I'm grateful for.

So now, without further delay, it's time to write a "Hello, Kansas City!" post.

The weather this weekend was just beautiful, perfect for going to the 81st annual Plaza Art Fair.

The Plaza Art Fair draws all sorts of people, which I love.  Old, young, couples, families, homeless, ma and pop, hipsters, middle-aged hoity-toities...all kinds.  It's the Ferris Bueller of Art Shows I suppose.  Everyone loves it.  And now, I'm included in that mix.

It's hosted each September at the Plaza which is several blocks of high-end stores in midtown and thus beckons one to pronounce it like the "Plaaaaza" (a la Mr. and Mrs. Howard from Gilligan's Island).

I went with my new friend Liz who I met at my church small group I recently joined.  We meet on Tuesdays.  Liz is a refreshingly easy person to be with.

This Art Fair has completely free admission and features 240 artists from around the country and 3 live music stages.  You walk around and just pop into different booths that look interesting to you.  All kinds of art - photography, painting, glasswork, pottery, croche, comic art (not my favorite), and art that I didn't quite know what category it fit into.  Is there a category called Weird art?

I've always enjoyed watching potters do their thing.  If there's a PBS show on pottery making, I just may stop and watch it.  I heard that potters always have one hand on the inside that is doing the forming and one hand on the outside to steady the piece.  The spiritual analogy here is beautiful, isn't it?

There is one potter community in India, I learned, that after taking the pottery from the heat, they SMASH the pottery to the ground!  It breaks into several jagged pieces.  "Oh no!  Why??!," I said inwardly (and maybe outwardly), when I was first learning about this.

Well, come to find out - the potter gathers each piece from the floor, then proceeds to put the pieces back together, weaving a gold thread between each crack.  The piece is now more beautiful and has its maker's signature mark.

Liz and I taking in the sights and sounds of the 2012 Plaza Art Fair

I had such a good time that the next day, I successfully lured Matt away from the books for a little while and brought him to the Art Fair too.  It's good for him to see the outside world and enjoy some culture.


Here are some images of Matt not studying.

 

Matt doesn't love to pose for pictures (I don't blame him), so this shot was captured by discreetly reaching my hand up with my camera while we were observing this painting.

I did make the mistake of calling one artist's art "simple."  I meant it as a compliment because I love the simplicity of a single photographed subject.  But as soon as I said the word "simple," she grimaced a little.  I felt embarrassed and noted to myself to leave adjectives out of my compliments to artists.  From then on, I opted to just say, "I love your work." 

I'm already excited to go again next year.  Thank you, Lord, for providing fun, free recreation for us.

This thing called life

Ready or not, med school and work suddenly started...and took me and Matt with them.

I am not opposed to change and daresay I even like it.

That said, if I'm honest (and I always try to be), then I must admit that with change comes clumsiness.

When starting anything new, rhythm and balance just don't come automatically for me.  And trying to find it while settling into our new city, new home, new school, and new job felt a little like this this past month:

It seemed like with the exception of meals and bathroom breaks and few sweet sweet hours of comatose sleep, Matt and I spent every spare moment getting acclimated to our new roles, him resigning to his office to study and me to my classroom to prepare.

One benefit (and by God's good grace) is that neither of us felt like we were neglecting each other because we were both busy and focused and understood that these were the needs of the season.  Empathy for the other came easily, and I find that that seven letter word is so helpful in a marriage.

Now, I feel like here is a good place to pause and make a note.  I recognize that me and Matt's so-called busy life may seem laughable to some - like perhaps to Matt's med school classmate with 9 kids.  That's right.  Nine.  Or to the single working mom.  Or heck, to the non-single, stay-at-home mom.  Everyone has responsibilities that at times (or all the time) take all you've got.  And it would be folly for me to compare.  I think of that verse that says,

But they, measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise. - 2 Corinthians 10:12

So I have learned to take no interest in comparing our life situation or my larger or smaller capacity with that of others.  I'm just saying that we are at our current capacity, which I believe will grow and shift as the Lord leads us through different seasons in life.

Strangely, though unbalanced and sleep deprived this past month, I was content to be fully occupied and found the challenge of it all somewhat exhilarating.  Sitting at my computer with tired eyes and tired brain, a few times a little smile would creep across my face, and I would think, "I love this."  And then my mind would turn to how God created work before the Fall of man to be satisfying and in that, enjoyable.

It's interesting to me that while I toil (I admit I don't love that part), there is still enjoyment and sweet satisfaction to be had in work, in purposeful doing. - a taste of what our God created work to originally be.

And now I insert one of my favorite obscure conversations from one of my favorite literary characters, Jane Eyre:

"Were you happy when you painted these pictures?" asked Mr. Rochester presently.

"I was absorbed, sir: yes, and I was happy."

Another point to duly note - The width and wealth of my spiritual inheritance becomes fresh to me when I'm stretched and challenged while toiling.  These are the times when I realize that God's grace really IS sufficient.  He really DOES renew strength of those who wait on Him.  He really IS powerful in my weakness.  He actually DOES provide my daily bread.

And it's in these difficulties that I tend to see Him more clearly.  I wonder if that's part of what Paul meant when he said he boasts in his weakness and what James meant when he said to consider it pure joy when you encounter difficulties of every kind.  When times are easy, I tend to shy away from/gloss over/ignore those verses, secretly hoping I won't have to endure any upcoming hardship.  But when hardships come (and they do) and I experience my Mighty One in the midst of my struggle, I gain a better grasp of this truth.  And there really is much joy in truth.

Ah, the paradoxes of the Christian life:  Life's not easy, but joy can still be had.  We live when we die to ourselves.  When we are weak, He is strong.  And on and on it goes.

Sometimes Matt and I will turn to each other and say with a smile of tired satisfaction, "We're doing this thing called life."  However imperfectly we are doing this, we are doing it.  And I treasure experiencing that our God is with us and is helping us do... this thing called life.

Decorating on a dime

The good thing about moving is that it forces you to go. through. your. stuff. and purge and reorganize.

My parents had driven out to CO in 2010 to visit and kindly brought all my junk to give me.  This junk remained in boxes, unopened and blissfully ignored until recently.  We were moving, and I had to decide what was and was not going with us.

So down to our garage I went to sort through those boxes that had been taunting me for 2 years.

I found among other things: my art portfolio from 2nd grade, boxes of letters I had kept, a paper-mache school project from my elem ed college days, books and binders galore, cassette tapes, shoeboxes filled with pictures (before digital, I of course developed every single picture taken on every disposable camera I had since teenagehood.)

My sentiment apparently used to outweigh my practicality. For instance, I found my English Lit binder from high school that I had kept as a momento of my favorite subject.  I must have thought that one day I may want to curl up and re-read my essays and that Shakespeare paper from 11th grade??

Into the trash bag.  I heard the binder calling out to me, "et tu, Brute?"

And what am I going to do with those childhood swim team trophies?  Display them on my mantle?  Into the trash bag.

After designating a pile for trash and a pile for Goodwill, I was left with a modest amount of keep-worthy items:  yearbooks, a few photo albums, some books, and that art portfolio.

Now the big stuff  - Matt and I sold and donated furniture that we would not have room to use or store in "Our Little Tree House" apartment in our new city. One of our pieces that we bid adieu to was our bedframe.  I loved it but knew it wouldn't work with our new room dimensions.

When we arrived in KC, we had a few weeks to settle and set up our new nest before Matt started school and I started work.

Which leads me to a segment I like to call:

Decorating on a dime

Three little letters that make a big difference - diy.

After I got over my initial "I can't do that" thinking, I attempted to tackle my first big diy project: 

Making a headboard

Two appealing reasons that helped me conquer my fear:  It's cheap.  And it doesn't take up valuable floor space.

Bonus reason:  After searching the web and watching various youtube videos, I found that it's surprisingly not complicated, which really is great news.

Supplies:

3/4 inch-thick plywood (whatever's on sale) from HomeDepot (cut to 80"x48" for our kingsize bed).

Spray adhesive from JoAnn (optional)

1" foam padding from JoAnn

batting from JoAnn

fabric from JoAnn

staple gun from HomeDepot

cleat picture hanger from HomeDepot

* I got the foam padding, batting, and fabric to be cut a couple inches larger than the plywood so that they could wrap around the plywood.  About 84"x52" each.

Process:

1. Spray one side of upright plywood with adhesive.  Press foam padding on with a couple inches hanging off each side.
2. Lay plywood flat (with help) onto foam padding and, pulling taut, staple foam padding to back of plywood along each side and corner with staple gun.  Be generous with staples.
3. Repeat same process with batting: position it against foam-covered wood, pull taut and staple around the back.
4. Finally, cover with fabric, pulling taut, stapling to backside of wood.  Make sure corners are folded down smoothly.

Here I am in process, getting acquainted with the staple gun.  Pardon the unsightly strap.

It was hot outside. 105 degrees hot.  The satisfying sound of the staple gun helped me push through the heat.

The finished product:

I felt priit-ty handy and proud of myself, until I did this a few hours later:

That's our colander melted into the pot of noodles.  I forgot to turn the stove off.  woopsie!

Pride comes before a fall.

Next up:
Homemade art
Art is expensive, so instead, some items already on hand have become our living room art (some photos, an old greeting card, some scrapbook paper - voila!)  These Ribba frames were a belated bday present to myself from Ikea (love me some Ikea).  Matt says that bday money burns a hole in his pocket.  Not me.  I like to wait and wait and wait some more until I have decided on something I truly love, even if it's months after my birthday.

Each piece is meaningful to us in some way: anniversary date, first apartment key, picture of our first hike, little painting we picked up on our honeymoon...

Even the butterfly print carries sentimental value for us.  Long story short (or medium-sized) - a few years ago, we hatched our own yellow swallowtail butterfly.  Matt, animal lover and nature enthusiast that he is, brought home a puffy green caterpillar he found on the sidewalk.  The next day it spun a cocoon and remained in this state for months in a  small terrarium on our porch where I totally forgot about it.  In fact, when I rediscovered it out there months later, I was sure it was dead - brown and dry.  Surely, I thought, no life can come from that.  I almost threw it out but didn't bother with it that day, then again forgot about it for awhile.

Then, one spring day, I happened to be out on the porch again and noticed the cocoon quivering.  I brought it inside, and Matt and I watched as before our eyes the most beautiful yellow swallowtail emerged.  We actually gasped at its brilliance.

The Good News of Christ came flooding into my mind - How He turns death into life!  How he makes all things new!  How He miraculously transforms us!

We watched our little butterfly hang upside-down on our orchid plant, drying its wings for 2 HOURS.  It was awesome - this word being appropriately used here.  I was in true awe.

Then, when it was ready, we released her (him?) out into the wild (off our back porch).  We stood, arms wrapped round each other, watching it fly away.  We felt like proud parents, sending our baby off to college.

Aaannyway...so that's the story behind our butterfly print.

Tasteful sentiment - 1 point.  Clutter sentiment - zero.

Wall decals
These words put me out a mere $6.50.  And I love eating our meals literally under this sweet truth.

A couple months ago, when we were looking at moving to KC, I asked the Lord if He would provide us a home that was cozy and safe.  And I'm so grateful for what He has provided.

I remember my mom once saying that it's important to be thankful to the Lord for what He provides and that discontentment or lack of thankfulness is equivalent to telling Him, "what You have provided is not good enough for me."  I shudder to think about having that attitude before my God.  When I consciously look through the lens of genuine gratefulness for anything He gives me- big or small-, I find that I enjoy His provision and gifts even more.

So there's a peek into "Our Little Tree House."