Author: Kristin

I find that I think best when I write. If you choose to follow me, you will get a first-hand look at my thoughts as I contemplate life as a woman, wife, mother, daughter, writer, teacher, and follower of Jesus. Issues that seem to recur revolve around parenting, education, equity, chronic illness, and teaching.

Testing….Testing…

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I feel like I am conducting an experiment.

Just three years ago I was entering the home stretch of the school year, assigning literary analyses, grading stacks of papers, preparing students for finals, and organizing thoughts for the end of year faculty meetings.  I easily worked fifty hours a week between teaching, preparing, grading, and other responsibilities. My husband was pastoring an inner city campus ministry church; he easily worked sixty to seventy hours each week. Two our children were in college; one of them had just enlisted in the Army and was preparing to leave.  The youngest was entering her junior year and all the craziness that that holds.

I burned the candle at both ends and sometimes in the middle; I had no reason to expect that that would change.

I closed out the school year, cleaned out my classroom, inventoried department materials, attended meetings, and started my summer projects — reading, gardening, lesson planning for the next year, etc.  My pace was slower, but definitely still purposeful.

I’d been doing Zumba a couple of nights a week and running three to five miles, three to five days each week.  I was in decent shape for a fortysomething and anticipated running 5Ks for the foreseeable future.  I used to joke that I would keep running until I won my age group — even if that meant into my eighties.

Somewhere in the middle of all that summer activity, my elbows started to ache — both of them. I already routinely saw a sports medicine doc because of pain I’d had in my hip since my twenties.  He said I probably had tennis elbow. Tennis elbow?  I don’t play tennis, but ok.  Maybe it’s from all the time I spend playing games on my iPad.  No big deal. I kept stepping.

Later that fall I went to see my general practitioner.  I was tired.  So tired.  Maybe I had mono? Or was anemic? I was just dragging!  She ran blood work and reported that I was just perfect — nothing wrong with me at all.

So, why was I still dragging?  And, you know, it wasn’t just my elbows, my hips were really bothering me. And my back. And, now that you mention it, my eyes.

The doctor said I was tired, maybe depressed. And that, my friends, will cost you $35.

That whole fall I felt pretty crappy, so finally, on a hunch, I called the rheumatologist that had treated my daughter for a bizarre, but related, health issue the year before. I described to him my symptoms and he shared my concern.  To make this story a little bit shorter, let me just say that six weeks later I was in his partner’s office.

I’ve written about this a lot in this blog, I know.  If you’ve been following, you know that I’ve had a variety of diagnoses, none of which I am fully comfortable with.  What I tell most people who ask is that I have ‘autoimmune disease’.  I think my doctors say I have psoriasis, fibromyalgia, arthritis, and who knows what else. Whatever. The story is that I get tired — really tired.  I ache most of the time. My eyes and skin periodically ‘flare’ up and make life a little more irritating than usual.

And that, my friends is how I got to this stage in my life of conducting an experiment.  After ten years of working at full throttle, I stopped everything.  I took several months off from everything and have been slowly adding things back in.  My family and I are like a bunch of scientists observing ‘the subject’ — me — and noting changes.  “You seem more tired today; do you think it’s because you took those three extra students last week?”  “I’m having a flare; I think I will need to spend the afternoon in bed.” “You’re walking like you are in pain; have you been exercising?”

This week I am pushing the limits a bit.  I am clocking twenty-four hours at the agency and an additional ten hours of tutoring.  As I add each appointment I brace myself a bit.  Thirty-four hours of direct instruction followed by a whirlwind Friday night trip could put me in bed for all of Sunday, but it might not.  I might be ok. I might actually enjoy it! I’ve gotta take the risk.  I have to know what my new normal is.

For the next two months I will clock over forty hours each week. Each hour will be spent working one-on-one with a student. By the end of those two months I might be exhausted, and I may have a better handle on what kind of pace will work best for me and my family.  I hope so, but for now I gotta get back to my test.

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord, and not men.

Colossians 3:23

At bat

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I stood at the plate yesterday afternoon; my bat was in place, my eye was fixed on the ball. I swung and connected. It was a grounder to third, but I ran like nobody’s business and made it safely to first base. Phew!

When I showed up at the home of my ACT student — a high school junior who had just spent seven hours at school — I could see the reluctance in his eyes.  He remembered; so did I.  We hadn’t gotten very far last week.  But we were both ready.  I had come with a plan, and so had he.  I had several strategies for our hour cued up on my laptop, but he beat me to the punch.  “I did a practice test last night and scored it; here are my results.” Bam.  It was a line drive to center field and I advanced to second.

I sorted his missed items into categories and we attacked them one at a time.  I relentlessly tried to get him to understand what an appositive is, how to correctly show possession, and to understand the difference between active and passive voice.  He hung with me.  As the clock turned, his (and my) apprehension turned to satisfaction.  As I started packing up, he said, “I’ll do another English test before I see you next time.”

“Yes,” I agreed.  “That was a great strategy.  Good job taking the extra time to prepare for our lesson.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked to my car.

This morning, I met with the college-level student with whom my faux pas occurred yesterday.  I arrived fifteen minutes ahead of her, I reviewed her lesson plan and goals, I gathered our materials, and I thought through our lesson. She arrived smiling and ready to work.  Together we read and took notes.  She gave me a summary and a main idea then answered questions.  She connected with the ball and all the runners advanced as she safely made it to first.

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen.  The bases were loaded.

My last student of the morning came to the plate.  He was a bit distracted.  He’s been working on a research paper for over two weeks — Leonardo da Vinci — and he’s had about enough.  He’s eleven years old and he’s hung in there through research, note taking, MLA documentation, outlining, and even drafting.  All the hard work is done, and he can taste the finish.  He knows that when this paper is done we will move on to reading a novel, and he is ready.  He eye is no longer on the research paper; it’s on the book.  Our task for today was that I would type while he read his draft, editing as we went.  Shoulda been a piece of cake.  The pitcher wound up and threw one straight across the plate. My student was looking up at the stands. Strike one. The second pitch was just like the first, but my student didn’t even see it coming.  He shook himself off, steadied himself and stared at the pitcher, but it was just a little too late to start paying attention.  The curve ball came and he struck out. It’s ok.  He needed a break any way.  He got another turn at bat the following hour.

So I’m sitting on third waiting for the next player to warm up.  I’ll see him today at 4:30.  He’s another junior preparing for the ACT — nicest kid you’d ever want to meet.  He’s really my designated hitter.  His eye is always on the ball, he’s always warmed up, he sees the situation and is prepared to deliver.  I’m thinking I’m going to score a run.

And then I’ll be right back up to the plate with another student at 6:00.  Maybe she’ll strike out, maybe she’ll get a hit, heck, maybe she’ll even hit a homer. I hope so, this kid has been putting forth her best effort and has been called out time after time after time.

Maybe it’s good I got a little taste of struggle this week — a little reminder of what it feels like to fail.  I didn’t like it. Nobody does.  I need to remember that parents and students don’t hire me to come help when everything is going great; they call me because they need help.  It hasn’t been going well.  They need an encourager to come beside them and say, “Good job!”  “You’ve got this!” “Stand like this. Hold your bat this way. Relax into your swing.”

“Come on, knock one out of the park!”

Success is so sweet after struggle, but getting from struggle to success takes determination and support.  That is what I am learning from my students.  They keep walking up to the plate because they want to hit the ball, but they wouldn’t get there without their fans cheering them on or their coaches stepping in to give guidance or their teammates believing they can.  I forget that I need that support, too.  I forget that I need my fans, my team,  and my Coach. This week has been a good reminder.

Romans 5:2-4

“…we rejoice in our [struggle], knowing that struggle produces endurance,

endurance produces character, and character produces hope,…”

Play Ball!

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I am not too proud of myself at the moment.  I’ve had a series of less-than-stellar performances and I’m starting to feel like I’m going to get put on the bench.

Last Thursday I had a dud of a session with one of my students.  We were working on ACT prep and we just weren’t making progress.  We kept getting stymied and bogged down in words.  When I left him, I was frustrated and so was he.

I left him to go to another student.  She and I worked for an hour and a half on an outline for a research paper she is writing.  We referred to the teacher’s model, we attended to his rubric, and we created a finished product.  Her mom messaged me the next day — the outline earned a 60%.

This morning I worked with a student on reading comprehension.  We were pouring over college-level text that involved math. I am not inept when it comes to math, but I am rusty.  Very rusty.  We each read the text silently creating notes at the same time.  We compared our notes, then I asked her some higher order thinking questions about the content.  Without getting into the gory details let me just say that my student became acutely aware that I was out of my comfort zone.  I could have left it there.  I didn’t.  I asked a colleague, in the student’s presence, to help me understand what I did wrong.  And I didn’t just ask once, I blathered on and on, joking about my inability to set up a proportion correctly. That doesn’t sound like a horrible sin, but I had been told before working with this student that I should not reveal that I was a newbie — the student is very intelligent and needs to know that I am qualified to do this job. I  blew it.

The colleague pulled me aside and reminded me that this student’s success is contingent on the fact that she trusts our credibility. That’s when I remembered the explicit instructions.

It was time for me to go home, so I clocked out and walked to the car feeling a physical sensation I haven’t felt in years.  A dull ache was in my throat and through my chest.  I had blown it.  I couldn’t take it back.  What if this student didn’t want to work with me any more? What hardship would that cause for the agency?  What will it take to rebuild her confidence in me.

Really, I was a mess.

I texted the colleague expressing my grief.  When I got home and realized she hadn’t texted me back, I started to draft an email about how devastated I was at my failure, etc., etc.   That’s when I heard the ‘ping’.  My colleague texted me back! “Don’t worry about it!  It’s all part of this crazy steep learning curve!”

We texted back and forth for a few minutes and I began to breathe more regularly, to release the tension in my muscles, and to prepare for the student that I have this afternoon — the same ACT student that I tanked with last week.

I have had a lot of successes as a teacher.  I know I am capable, but lately I feel like I’ve been falling a little (or a lot) short.  I don’t cut myself much slack.  I expect to hit it out of the park every time I get up to bat, but even the best batter in the MLB isn’t getting a hit even half of the time.  I don’t expect my students to get a hit every time they are at bat either, but they still get discouraged when they strike out.

They often want to throw the bat, stomp to the dugout and sulk. That is how I felt today.  I was sure I would collapse on my bed when I got home and cry for a while — I know better!  How could I make such a novice mistake!!

And I made another one, didn’t I?  My last post was about trajectory and how success is often related to how well we are able to adapt, bounce back, get back on the horse.

So I’ve had a few rough spots in the last week.  Who hasn’t?  I’ve said from the beginning that working with students is as much about lessons for me as it is about lessons for them.  Why would I be surprised when my learning gets a little uglier than I am comfortable with.  It happens for my students all the time.  And yet they keep swinging.

I can learn a lot from these kids.

So, here I am picking up the bat and walking back to the plate.

Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed; His compassions never fail.

His mercies are new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

Trajectory

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Meet Blain: he wants to be a nurse.  He is currently enrolled at a local university.  He is focused, hard-working, and goal-oriented, but he has a problem.  Although he is fascinated with the human body and has no difficulty at all with medical terms or anatomy, he hasn’t been able to get into the nursing program.  Why?  Because he doesn’t know what a predicate nominative is.

In order to get into his school’s nursing program, he has to pass a standardized test called the Hesi A2, and he has passed it — all the sections except grammar.   His school requires that he get 80% or better on the grammar section of this test.

I know what you are thinking.  You are way back in paragraph one thinking to yourself, “what is a predicate nominative?  and what does it have to do with nursing?” Exactly.

Meet Conner:   He would really like to go to MSU’s James Madison School, or maybe Miami University of Ohio, or even Butler University.  He’s a delightful kid.  He plays soccer on a travel team, is respectful toward his parents, and is willing to engage in four hours of tutoring each week — after he’s already put in full days at school.  Why? Because his ACT score isn’t quite high enough to get into the programs he is interested in.

Then there’s Joe.  Joe’s parents are both career police officers. They have positions of authority within local law enforcement agencies.  He wants to follow in their path.  He just returned from a visit to the US Naval Academy — his dream school.  His eyes are gleaming with hope and possibility.  He wants to do just what his parents are doing — contribute to society by serving and protecting.  When I met him the first time in the foyer of the local library, I looked up at his imposing stature to see a smiling face topped off with a military haircut.  He was at once intimidating and engaging.  He was born for this.

But he may not get into the Naval Academy.  For good reason, the Naval Academy is very selective.  It is a four-year education paid by the United States government to prepare the future leaders of our Navy.  Like West Point and the Air Force Academy, it must select only the brightest and the best.  And although Joe has law enforcement in his DNA, he has experienced some learning difficulty.  He has done YEARS of interventions to improve his reading issues, but still, he struggles to get the standardized test scores that he needs.

Is he discouraged? Nope.  He greets me every week at the library, smiling.  He leans with me over an ACT prep book as we practice item after item, discussing rules and strategies.  He knows he has to work to achieve his goal.  He knows he has to have a backup plan, so he is also considering other military schools and ROTC programs.

Three guys I’m working with right now (names changed, of course) — all pursuing their dreams, all trying to overcome an obstacle in the path.

That obstacle? Testing.

I’m not against testing.  We have to have some way to determine which students fit in which programs. Not everyone can be successful at Harvard — probably only those who score in the top 1% of everyone in the nation. Not everyone can or should be a nurse. And, when it comes to national security, I, for one, am glad that the armed forces have high standards for ‘officer material.’  Testing is one way to help individuals, and schools,  determine who has the aptitude or education for any of thousands of programs.  But it’s not the only way.

The three gentlemen I described above are all trying to raise their test scores, yes, but they are stacking the deck in other ways.  Blain works part-time as a pharmacy tech which gives him access to medical terminology and the world of health care.  Conner takes all AP classes at his high school and has worked hard enough to earn himself a 3.5. Joe? He is part of his community’s police explorer’s program. He is taking every opportunity he can to expose himself to the career he hopes is in his future.

Do I believe they will succeed?  In one way or another, yes, if they are willing to accept that the definition of success is not fixed.  Certainly Blain may become a nurse, Conner may get into his top choice university, and Joe may go to the Naval Academy.  However, some or all of those goals may not be achieved. Each of these guys may experience trajectory. And, I’m learning, the vehicle for that trajectory may be a test.

A score that is earned during four hours of testing on a Saturday morning can make the difference between attending the University of Michigan or attending Central Michigan University — both are great schools, both have thousands of success stories to their credit.  That score could also determine the difference between $10,000 or $1,000 in scholarship money — substantial to almost every college-aged kid that I know. The score could force choices that each of my students can’t right now imagine they are going to have to make. That score could cause — trajectory.

Will they be able to navigate that trajectory? My gut says yes.  Why?  Because each of these guys has not settled for the initial test score.  Each saw the score and said to himself, “OK, what now?” He didn’t curl up in a corner and decide that his goals were unattainable.  He made a decision to take action.

That decision tells me that he will take future bumps in the road with finesse.  If he doesn’t get into his desired program, I am confident he will research and find one that better fits his needs.  If he gets into his program but somehow determines that it wasn’t a good match after all, he will regroup and prepare for a transition. If somehow he gets into the program, completes it, and then discovers that his interests lie in a different field altogether?  No problem — he will have navigated difficulty in the past and will be prepared to ride the next, if bigger, wave.

What a joy it is for me to join these gentlemen on their journey, to watch their resilience, and to learn from them how to navigate trajectory.

Consider it pure joy when you face trials of many kinds,

because you know the testing of your faith produces perseverance.

James 1:2-3

The Solid Word

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

It’s my day off.  I slept well. My house is clean and I am sitting at my desk IN THE MORNING!

I have been scurrying around the little house by the river this morning taking care of all the things people typically take care of on their days off — laundry, vacuuming, dishes, bills, cleaning — and finally I am sipping tea at the keys.

I’ve got a few things on my mind.  We live in a world that is saturated with information.  All day long we receive messages through text, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, television, and radio.  We tend to filter those messages through our own personal preference.  I don’t typically listen to country music radio or stations that play rap music — but I have. The Facebook posts I read are from people that I know and (mostly) love. My television station choices are usually limited to a very few channels that play sports, crime shows, or movies.  The very limited views I get of Twitter and Instagram are very benign, indeed.  And to tell you the truth, I watch and listen to very little news reporting.

Why?

Because I don’t truly trust it.  I have become very jaded.  I operate under the assumption that most news reports are driven by viewership and the almighty dollar.  I believe it is mostly packaged to promote an agenda.  I believe it cares more about hype than it does about truth.

But I do care about our world and the people in it.  I do want to pray for the oppressed, help where I can, and make a difference in the world.  So, I can’t choose to live with my head in the sand. I do want to be aware of what is going on in the world.

So how do I remain informed?  It’s a challenge.  I skim news reports — usually in print format — for facts and figures.  I look at multiple sources since we know that bias exists everywhere. I try to listen to what people have to say.  And, I try to pause before I react to news of any kind.

It’s not easy.  And I’m not good at it.  I do react.  I rush to judgment.  I vilify innocent people. I throw my hands in the air and say, “it’ll never be better!” And it’s pretty easy to stay there, wringing my hands and shaking my head.

But why should I “grieve like those who have no hope”? Yes, the world can look like a hot mess, but our Creator is in the business of restoration.  Can he grant healing? Yes!  Can he cure diseases? Yes!  Can he depose tyrants? Yes!  Can he bring sight to the blind and set the prisoners free? Yes!

And I should just sit here in my jammies at my keyboard and wait for it to happen, right? No!!

On the pages of my Bible study this morning were these words, “More than anything, God’s people need to know His Word and be willing to give Him the freedom to adjust our lives to its precepts.” Am I willing to let Him change me on his path to change the world in which I live?  If not, than I better go back to wringing my hands.

I don’t trust news reports or Twitter feeds or Facebook posts.  I trust the Word of God.  And in His word this morning I read, “…He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth…that they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward Him and find Him.  Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, for in Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:26-28).

On Christ the solid Word I stand, all other sources are sinking sand.

The Little Sleep

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Four weeks into the new job and I’m struggling to find my rhythm.  Maybe it’s because the first two weeks were full-time and the second two weeks have been part-time.  Maybe it’s because I continue to tutor outside of work in addition to the instruction that I do at work.  Or it could be the fact that I spent last weekend away from home.

Whatever the reason(s) I feel a little discombobulated. I get up early, go to work, then come home before lunch to take care of household stuff, do my Bible study, read, work on my puzzle, or more often than I care to admit — nap.

I’ve never really been a napper. I have found that if I fall asleep in the middle of the day, I like to knock out for a couple of hours.  The problem is that when I wake up, I am often excessively crabby and not fit for human interaction.  Or, my mid-day nap interferes with my night-time sleep. Many people have told me to master the ‘catnap’.  I’ve tried.  True, after 15-20 minutes of napping, I generally feel refreshed. If I get right up and start moving, I have that second wind that everyone talks about.  However, I don’t generally want to get up after just 15-20 minutes.  If I was tired enough to lie down, I want to get some serious sleep.

And lately, I have been tired enough to lie down.  In fact, while I was away last weekend, I took advantage of our free time to nap!  Other women did crafts, went for a walk, or even shopped.  Me? I was knocked out. When I woke up, since I was not at home with people who love me regardless of how crabby I get, I put on my best behavior and walked with my roommate to the nearest coffee spot.  We had a lovely cuppa before we returned for the last activity of the evening.  But you can probably guess how that worked out — yup, I was still awake at 1am!

So, I fell asleep on the couch the next evening, woke to go to work, plowed through the next couple of days, and then yesterday took another nap.  When I woke, I had dinner, took a walk with my husband, refrained from caffeine, but still found myself awake until almost midnight.

Maybe this is my new rhythm.  Maybe I have to learn to be flexible — sleeping when I can.

*********************************

You won’t believe what just happened.  I wrote the last line, crawled into bed, and then slept for an hour!

This is definitely a new rhythm for me.  I have not been one to stop in the middle of a task to take a phone call or talk to a friend, let alone to lie down for a nap! Remember me? I the one who has been a soldier — marching on to battle unknown foes, kicking butts and taking names.  I haven’t been the kind of person who would stop mid-stride, drop all my defenses, and — gasp — sleep!

I think I need to face the facts — I am becoming a napper.  All kinds of changes are happening over here.

I lie down and sleep; I wake again because the Lord sustains me.

Psalm 3:5

The Word of my Friend

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Did you ever feel like God was trying to send you a message?  At every turn you see the same words, almost as though they were written on billboards specifically for you? Perhaps since I have been blogging, I notice this a little bit more easily than I ever have.

On April 13th I posted a blog called “The Power of Words” in which I considered the effects — both positive and negative — of my words on others.   Then, on April 22 I posted a blog called “The Power of Fewer Words” in which I discussed my challenge to say less and listen more.  It may come as no surprise to those who know me that the kind of words and the number of words that come out of my mouth have been a life-long challenge.

Way back in the fall some new friends invited me to attend a conference for Lutheran pastors’ wives.  They gave me a post card with the theme of the conference written on it, “The Word with Friends”.  The logo is a wordle (see featured image); I love Wordles!  I love words — I am a writer, an English teacher, a Words with Friends addict, and a bibliophile. My friends didn’t have to twist my arm to convince to come to this conference.  I put the dates on my calendar, paid the registration fee, and waited for the weekend to arrive.

Well, two days after I wrote the second blog mentioned above, I was walking into the conference at a hotel in Bay City.  The tables were set with Scrabble boards as centerpieces complete with chocolate Scrabble tiles!  The opening games were all word games — fill in the blank, word scrambles, hinky pinky, and the like. We were even sorted into groups by drawing Scrabble tiles from a bag.  I was having so much fun!!!  Words and letters everywhere!!

The next morning, I woke, ate breakfast, and joined a table of women for the first of four Bible study sessions — The Power of Words, The Lack of Words, Hidden Words, and Impress these Words.  Probably the biggest take away for me came in our last session on Sunday morning.  We were studying James 1:19-26.  Though we had been talking about words all weekend, this chunk included all the gems that God has been teaching me through the last few weeks: be quick to hear, slow to speak; be doers of the word, and not hearers only; bridle your tongue; and most importantly for me, I think, receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls. 

And really, if I am going to be honest, that is the lesson that I have been learning since I started this blog back in July — God’s Word is powerful and able to save my soul.  Although I have made many changes since last year at this time — new home, new city, new church, new friends, new blog, new work life — the most impactful change has been reconnecting with the discipline of daily Bible study.  I didn’t set out to make that change — it just kind of happened.  My friend invited me to a Bible study.  The Bible study required daily preparation.  I am a good student, so I complied.

But here’s the thing — daily connection with God’s word has breathed life into me.  It has poured truth into my heart.  It has changed my thinking.  It has slowed me down.  It has allowed me to examine my thoughts, actions, and motives.  It has brought me joy.

On Sunday morning, our Bible study leader gave us all a small can of Play-doh.  She encouraged us to make shapes to remind us of the lessons we had learned.  We made a face with a closed mouth and extra large ears to remind us to respect the ratio of one mouth to two ears.  We made a hand to remind us to be doers of the word.   We made a face with a tongue sticking out to remind us to bridle our tongue.  And, we made a flower to remind us that God’s implanted word will bear fruit.

Words are a part of every day of my life.  I read, I write, I edit, I teach writing, and I now teach reading.  I must encounter thousands, even tens of thousands, of words every single day.  But here’s the thing — most of those words do not have a lasting impact on my life.  Sure, there are stories that I love to read over and over again.  There are poems and songs that make my heart sing.  My blog allows me to bring order to the chaos in my brain.  But only the Words of God have the power to save my soul.

Hebrews 4:12

For the Word of God is living and active.

Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow;

it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

The Power of Fewer Words

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Last week I wrote about the Power of Words — how my words (and yours) can be a soothing balm or a source of pain.  That is one of the lessons I am learning on my new job; another lesson comes with it: fewer words can be more useful than more words.

This is a challenge for me.

Stop laughing.

Really.

I really like to talk. When I was in middle school our report cards showed two grades for each subject — a letter grade to show our academic performance and a number grade to show our citizenship.  If you forget about penmanship, I usually had all As in academics.  You might imagine that an all-A student would also get the highest citizenship scores — all 1s.   Ones indicated that you followed classroom rules, paid attention in class, refrained from disrupting others, and (here it is) didn’t talk during class time.  Twos indicated that you were doing great with a few minor exceptions.  Threes indicated that you had room to grow.  Fours meant that you were a nuisance to the teacher. Fives meant you were one of those students.  I hereby confess to all the talkers I have ever taught and scolded in my class that beside most of my As were 3s, 4s, and occasionally a 5.  (Pause for collective gasp.)

Naturally I chose a profession that would support my predisposition to garrulousness — I became an English teacher.  Where else would I get paid to stand in front of a captive audience for eight hours a day?  Where else would my anecdotes be celebrated?  Where else could I justify tangential commentary?

I often said in class, “well, this is totally unrelated to what we are talking about, but…” My students, especially seniors, would smile and lean in for a little “story time with Mrs. Rathje”.  Sometimes I could claim that my stories had lasting life-lesson value, but often, I gave my students (and myself) a little break with an amusing (or not) story from my life experience.

Now, for the past several years I have been working with average and above average students who can easily sort out the necessary content from the stand-up routine of a rather verbose instructor — especially when given the verbal cue, “this is totally unrelated to our lesson today.”  But now? Now I am working with students who really struggle with reading — with words.  They don’t need extraneous noise or extra words to muddle their thinking.  I have to practice a little restraint (or a lot of restraint) and focus on giving only the positive reinforcement plus the corrective guidance that will enable my students to more easily decode and comprehend.  I’ve got to keep my stories inside my head — at least until I get home and can put them in my blog for you.

This lesson is of course causing me to think that perhaps I need a little verbal restraint outside of work, too.  I mean, I don’t have to use up 20,000 words every single day. I could choose to use closer to 13,000 and give others some air time.  I’m not the only person in the world (or my house) who has things to say.

I used to say in my class, “God have you one mouth and two ears; respect the ratio.” I need to practice what I have preached.  I need to listen at least as much as I talk, and if I ‘respect the ratio’, I will be listening twice as much as I am talking.  For a chatterbox like me, that is quite a challenge.

And I could probably further apply this lesson to my prayer life — I could listen to God for at least as long as I list requests, or even twice as long. For a selfish human like me, that is even more of a challenge.

I like to fill space with words — spoken or written– but silence is really ok.  Silence allows time for thinking, processing, listening, and truly hearing.  It’s probably well-past time for me to give silence a try.

Isaiah 30:15

…in quietness and trust is your strength…

Learning Delays, re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

This one goes way back to April of 2015, whew! I had no idea of the lessons I would be learning in this next chapter…but four and a half years later, the children are still leading me toward learning.

This morning I sat across from a six-year old boy who is learning to read.  He has memorized many rules and exceptions to rules over the past couple of months. This morning he had so much confidence when reading some words — in fact he helped me ‘learn’ how to break some words into syllables and how to play some games. At those moments his eyes were bright and his smile was wide. But the same six-year old boy had moments of frustration where his eyes were focused on the words, his brows were knit together, and he just couldn’t make sense of the message. He could persist in trying to figure it out for a few minutes, but if it took much longer, he was prone to putting his head down in defeat.

I’m leaning a little toward the second posture at the moment. I have been looking at some words for the last couple of hours on and off. I sense they are trying to convey some meaning to me…but I’m just not getting it. Now, I am not six years old. I have been at this reading game for quite some time.  I’ve got all the words decoded. In fact, I know what they mean on the surface, but I get the sense that I am missing the bigger message. I have walked away a couple of times thinking, “it’ll come to me…”

This morning when my student got discouraged, I turned to the more experienced teacher at my side to watch what he would do to breathe a second breath into the little guy — what would transform his defeat into determination. I was impressed when the teacher pulled out strategy after strategy but even more impressed when our munchkin left after two hours of hard work, high-fiving us and smiling!

I wish I had that kind of resilience!

Instead, often when the message seems cryptic, I walk away.

So here’s the message I’m trying to digest: I was reminded this afternoon of the book Through Gates of Spendor which chronicles the work of missionaries to the Auca tribe in Ecuador in the 1950s. The Aucas, according to my Bible study, “have allowed the Gospel to radically change their lives. The practices of their people relentlessly handed down through the generations have been completely altered by the Word of God.”*  Ok, I got that part. The part I am struggling with comes next. The idea, I think, is that God may want to also radically change my life with the Gospel.

Huh? I am a life-long Christian.  I have been a Christian school teacher, youth leader, pastor’s wife.  How much more can my life be radically altered? What “practices of my people relentlessly handed down through the generations [need to be] completely altered”?

I’m struggling with these two sentences:

The dilemma is weighing our genuine need for God’s direction against our personal resistance to alteration.

Will you allow Me to dramatically alter your ways to teach you my own?*

You may be saying to yourself: Come on, Kristin, this isn’t really that complicated. Let God have his way in your life.

Ok, sure. I get that. I mean, I did just let go of a job I loved, a home I loved, and a city I loved in order to move to this new chapter in my life. And I have no regrets. So far, so good!  But I am sensing that those big and noticeable changes are only paving a way for some more internal changes — the ones that aren’t so easy to spot, the ones that have needed changing for a very long time. I just don’t see how those changes are going to happen or what they are going to look like.

Part of the lesson this morning required my student to stand at the white board and spell out a word that I gave to him.  It was a word that he could have easily read if it was printed on the page in front of him — he had read dozens like it already this morning. But when I asked him to write it on the board, he wasn’t having it. I stood at the board and asked him to race me to spell it. Nope — he didn’t want to do that. I tried to make it into a different game. Nope — not gonna happen.

We struggled together to get through that one word and then the other teacher moved us on to something else. Today writing on the board was not a success, but tomorrow we will give it another try.

He doesn’t have to learn everything all in one day.

Sometimes when I am reading my Bible study, it makes sense right away.  Other times, my blogging clarifies ideas and helps me make sense of what I have read. Today? Today I think I got a quick preview of a lesson to come. It’s like I was sitting in the back of the classroom and the teacher told us something we would be doing next week. I know something is coming, but I really don’t have a clue what it is. And, right now I am content with that. I mean, seriously, I don’t have to learn everything all in one day.

I think my new job is teaching me more than I am teaching children, as per usual.

Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me Your paths. Lead me in your truth and teach me.”

Psalm 25:5

*Quotes taken from Moore, Beth. Whispers of Hope: 10 Weeks of Devotional Prayer. Nashville: B & H Publishing Group, 2013.

The King and I

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Then King Darius wrote to all the people, nations, and languages that dwell in all the earth:

“Peace be multiplied to you. I make a decree, that in all my royal dominion people are to tremble and fear before the God of Daniel, for he is the living God, enduring forever; his kingdom shall never be destroyed and his dominion shall be to the end.  He delivers and rescues; he works signs and wonders in heaven and on earth, he who has saved Daniel from the power of the lions.” 

I found the wrong side of my bed this morning.  After two long weeks of training, I had hoped to have a refreshing sleep.  However, last night I had trouble winding down, even though I was exhausted.  Then, at 6:30 this morning, good ol’ Chester announced that something was amiss.  “Come on, Chester, go back to sleep.” No dice.  So I got up and took him outside, and good thing I did!

Marching past my house were dozens of teenagers carrying supplies down to the river.  That’s when I remembered an email from yesterday with the word ‘regatta’ in it.  What’s a regatta? Is it today? I went back inside and checked the email — yup, today.  If I don’t move the car RIGHT NOW I won’t be able to leave the house until after 4 and I have two appointments between now and then.

So, I changed from pajamas to sweats (breathtaking upgrade) and grabbed the keys.  In order to move my car I had to communicate with two other humans.  Can I remind you that it is still before 7:00am? As I am weaving among hundreds of cars and being directed to drive through the parking lot and over the grass lot, the ‘low gas’ signal comes on.  Seriously? The last driver left the car below E!

By now I am seriously grumbling.  “Stinking regatta,….inconsiderate kids…house is a mess…didn’t get sleep…”

I parked the car and stomped across campus back to my house.  I spewed a little ugly at the only other conscious person in my path then crawled back into bed.  I tried to sleep, but it wasn’t going to happen.

Finally I dragged myself out of bed, made my tea, grouchily read some emails and checked my calendar.  Then I said almost audibly, “Might as well read my devotion.” (Yeah, my heart was really in it.)  I opened the book and saw that I was supposed to read Daniel 6.  “Seriously? Daniel?”  And here’s the magic…anyone who has lived with me will attest that if I have risen from the wrong side of the bed, you might as well just give me a wide berth for the duration of the morning.  I don’t recover quickly.  I am going to fume and fuss for a while. But not today.

I was reading the narrative about how Daniel was upright and admired.  In fact, he was promoted to a position of power.  Some jealous colleagues created a scheme in which they knew Daniel would be caught — they made it illegal to pray!  Of course, it wasn’t long before they nabbed him and threw him in the lion’s den.  The king, who admired, respected, and even loved Daniel was devastated. His own signet had to seal the opening to the den.

Let’s take a little sidetrack here and acknowledge that the king was not what we’d call a faithful God-follower.  He had witnessed God’s power as David had interpreted his dreams, and was impressed. He had witnessed Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego surviving the fiery furnace, but he still hadn’t signed on as a card-carrying member. So, after spending the night fasting and pacing, he ran to the lion’s den yelling out for Daniel, “has your God been able to deliver you from the lions?”

“Yes! My God sent his angel and shut the lions’ mouths, and they have not harmed me.”

And you know, it wasn’t Daniel being alive that got me this morning.  It was the king, good old Nebuchadnezzar. He was so moved that God had protected Daniel — even from lions — that he finally threw his hands in the air and said, “Ok, Ok, I believe.  This God is for real!”  He made a public proclamation that the “God of Daniel is the living God, enduring forever.”

And that, my friends, is what shifted my grumpiness to gratitude this morning. Ok, there is a woman on a bull horn 100 yards from my window starting race after race on my beautiful river.  I am going to have to walk across campus to get to my car.  I am going to have to pray that that car makes it to the gas station.  But, let me put it in perspective: I worship the God of Daniel who actually closed the mouths of lions to protect him.  I serve the God who is living and very active in my life. I love the Lord who endures forever — from Adam to Noah to Daniel to Paul to me.

Grumpiness be gone.  Rejoicing commence.