Something to Remember

Last Wednesday was a super fun day to observe. Usually, I just kind of hang out, listening, looking at their assignment, reading through a few essays. But I got to participate in the conversation on Wednesday. Chris is totally open to me participating at any time, but Wednesday, I don't know, I just decided to speak out. The students were working on a paragraph about how slavery changed Mrs. Auld in Frederick Douglass' slave narrative, using quotes and commentary, etc. The student teacher Gina was leading the discussion while Chris was writing down what they said on the computer which was displayed on the board up front.
This is what I noticed: Chris had this certain idea in her head that she wanted the students to get to. She had her ideas about why Mrs. Auld changed, and because she was working so hard to get her thoughts out, she stopped listening to the students. Gina would call on students, they would say their opinion and it was like Chris didn't hear them. She didn't write down what they said, and at times would shut their idea down. It wasn't malicious at all, but I think the students could tell that she had something in her head that she wanted them to get to. And after awhile of not getting it, fewer suggestions and opinions from the students came forth. I didn't say anything profound. In fact, Chris shut my idea down too. But I wanted to help, and I wanted to affirm some of the students. So I chose a girl whom Chris had unintentionally ignored and affirmed her thought and tried to twist it into what I thought Chris might have been getting at. Like I said, I wasn't right in Chris' mind. But I hope that girl felt valued. The paragraph didn't get finished, and Chris had Gina and I finish it for them so they could see an example (as their homework was to write a paragraph like that themselves. We came up with something that satisfied Chris, and that was the end of that.
I don't write this with any negative feelings toward Chris. I could say how that was awful of her, and I will never do that as a teacher. But I can't say that because I totally get it. I have had moments when I am trying to put a thought to words, and people are suggesting ideas or sharing their thoughts and I'm not even listening. I am really glad that I got to see this happen because it's something I never saw becoming a problem. I hope to remember this moment so I can be more self aware when I am teaching. I think what Chris did was a very human thing to do, and I don't blame her. But I want to learn from her mistakes as well as her successes- because that's what observing is about.

A Glimpse Into the Future

It has been cool to be able to observe in a classroom with a student teacher. Gina is in the Mascot program, so it will be a little different when I go into the student teaching program. I won't be teaching as much right off the bat, and I'll switch classes and possibly schools at the semester. I'm sure there are more differences, but those are the big ones that I know at least. But it is still really nice to talk to her about her experience so far. She has been reassuring in telling me that though it is a lot of work, she's having a lot of fun. And I can see that in the way she interacts with the students. They ask her if she is going to the football game that week. They try to give her nicknames like "G Spice" (Gina Spadorcio is her name). Not only is it evident that she likes her students, but they also really like her. There is a lot of laughter in the classroom. She helps build that family that Chris talked to me about.

I know that I am not going to have the same experience as Gina. I'm not Gina; I'm not in the Mascot program, and I'm going to have Chris as my master teacher. But it is still nice to observe someone who is just a semester ahead of you on the journey. It's encouraging. And I look forward to becoming more a part of Chris and Gina's classroom as the semester goes on. I can feel myself becoming more comfortable around the students, and I hope that there are more lessons that I am able to help out with in some way.

The Unique Creature Known As a "Freshman Boy"

I got the chance to observe one of Chris' regular freshman English classes. Not only was this class not the honors class, but I came for 7th period on a Friday. The difference between the honors class and the regular class was to be expected and though a little nuts, not as frightening to me as I thought it would be.

At the beginning of class they were to write down definitions of words that were going to show up in the book they were about to read: Narrative of the Life of Fredrick Douglas. Chris and her co teacher Gina had to work so hard to get the class, specifically the boys, to quiet down and write their definitions. I thought this was a really good idea though because it would help with their comprehension of a pretty heavy book. Later they began reading the book out loud, and whenever a vocabulary word was read someone would say "ding ding" and point it out. They finally quieted down as Chris read the first part of the narrative out loud, and some even had some interesting questions to ask about slave laws at the time.

All in all I think Chris and Gina did a good job and managing the students, but I think I would have to do something different. It took them a really long time to get started, and too much chaos stresses me out. It also really bothers me if someone makes light of something so serious, and sitting where I was I heard a few inappropriate jokes about whipping and abuse. I plan to make it really clear that my one rule is about respect - respecting others, your surroundings, and yourself. But I also understand that the freshman boy is a unique creature of whom I have little understanding. And I might be lucky to get as far as Chris has gotten in managing them. I find them hilarious, frustrating, and ridiculous all at the same time. Gina told me she has a word document where she writes down the different ridiculous stuff they say. I love that. And as crazy as that 7th period class was, I look forward to getting to interact with students like that. I'm sure there will be many days that I do not look forward to it, but I hope to keep my sense of humor with me and am able to laugh things off and start over the next day.

I also got the chance to do some paper editing, first with the honors class papers and then with a regular class paper. The paper from the student in regular English 9 was pretty bad. I didn't really know where to begin. That is honestly going to be the hardest part of teaching for me I think. I'm going to want to have one on one meetings with every students to go over their papers, and I don't know if I would have enough time for that. But I have time to figure it out. And I'm glad to be observing in a class to see how Chris deals with it.

Becoming a family.

Chris leaned over to me, "They're bonding- having fun like this. They're becoming a family."

I got to observe for the first time this week in Ms Chris Perrson's classroom at Chico High, and I have been shocked and blessed by what I have been able to see. The emphasis that Chris puts on relationships with her students and the students with each other is beautiful. Every student loves her, trusts her, respects her. Granted, I was only able to observe her Freshman honors English class and her film class (where we watched Pretty in Pink. Love that movie). She informed that if I really want to see a classroom management nightmare to try to come by around 2pm for 7th period. Hopefully one of these days I can fit that in.
All that said, when looking from the outside, Chris' class seems kind of chaotic. She's super kooky; students are eating and super chatty as they walk in. But then they start taking roll with the co teacher, and begin playing this game where they try to call out their names in alphabetical order as fast as they can. They're awful at it. In the midst of laughter and competition with their last recorded time, they attempt three times at their roll call game. This is when Chris leans over to me and whispers, "They're bonding- having fun like this. They're becoming a family." Before this, it was obvious that Chris is a loved teacher, but when she said this it dawned on me that her lax demeanor, the fun she has with her students - it's all for a purpose. She knows exactly what she's doing when she jokes with her students, tells them funny stories about her life, allows them to be a little crazy before they settle down into getting started with class. She is cultivating a family atmosphere- an atmosphere where they can trust their teacher and their peers, where they want to work together to learn, to discuss, to grow.
If I asked one of the students about Chris' class, I don't know if they would be able to articulate why they like the class so much. They would probably answer: "She's funny;" "She let's us eat;" "She's nice." They don't realize how she has orchestrated this family atmosphere for them; they just know she's their favorite teacher.

I'm really looking forward to the things I can learn from Chris and her students this semester. I know that I'm not as kooky as Chris, and it might take me a long time to become such a loved and respected teacher. But I hope to glean some wisdom on how to keep relationships at the forefront, while teaching students MLA format and to think critically about literature and life.

That Chico Life.

Four weeks into getting my pre reqs done at Chico State while applying to the credential program- I feel as though I've been here forever and like I got here yesterday. It would be a lie to say I didn't miss San Diego in the worst way. But it would also be a lie to say that I have not been welcomed home by not only my family, but my brother in law's family in such a loving way.

I've never been super good with transitions, but who is really? But I've been talking to my friend Adilene, who is in Connecticut going to grad school, a lot and this transition for us has really made us realize how grateful we are for our church family in San Diego. The last year in San Diego was a time of being filled like I never have been before. Sure there were times that I got upset about whatever frustrating thing happened, but I felt a part of the strongest community I think I've ever had. We sing "fill us up, and send us out" so I guess that's what I got. Though I don't think I can say I feel like God "sent" me to Chico. It sounds pretentious to me. I'm not a pastor. I'm going to school here. But I know God filled me up before I came.

Looking for a community like the one I had is hard to find. And replacing the what I found in San Diego First Church of the Nazarene is impossible. But I'm looking for a new community. Not the same one, a new one. Not forgetting the people who loved me so well, and who I love so much. But finding new people to love. And I'm praying that God uses me while I'm here; that I'm sent out in some sort of way.

I'm beginning to observe in a high school English class at Chico High next week, and my professor is asking us to blog about our experiences. So instead of making a new blog, I'm just going to write in this one. Hope that's ok with you, Mom.

A few of my people in SD.

Ancipation and Hope: A Year In Review

We've been singing this song in youth group lately. It's called Oceans by Hillsong United. And whenever the bridge comes, I can't help but wonder if the people around me are as scared of what they are singing as I am.
The lyrics go like this:

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.
Let me walk upon the waters,
Wherever You would call me.
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior.

After a year like 2013, I don't know if I want to go deeper than my feet can wander and where my faith will be made stronger because what if that involves another affair? What if my life as I know it comes crashing down again? What if it is something within my own family? I can't do it. I've told God, if something happens to my parents' marriage I will not be able to handle it.

And I know this is crazy because God has shown Himself so incredibly faithful these past 12 months. From people on the camino to people at home and church to Amy's commitment to Christ and her marriage, I have seen God's incredible redeeming power. But the past 12 months have been incredibly painful.
I thought I would be completely healed after the camino. I mean the camino is a metaphor for life, Santiago is heaven - we are healed in heaven. My blisters were healed by the time I arrived to Santiago, why wasn't I?

But Santiago isn't heaven. It was just a glimpse of what is to come. And returning to the wounds of this world may be necessary, but that doesn't mean healing isn't coming. Pastor Dee talked about Haggai in a sermon last month and a couple of his points hit home. He said that we have to "acknowledge what has been so we can look forward to what is to come" and "The hope has not been met, but that doesn't mean the prayers should cease or the work stop." I cannot ignore what has happened, but I have to move on and cling to the hope in what is to come. And just because I don't feel completely healed, that doesn't mean I should stop praying or stop working to bring the Kingdom of God to earth.

My wounds have scabbed over, but I am still afraid of the scab getting torn off too soon and beginning to bleed again.
So as we celebrate the coming and anticipation of the return of Christ tomorrow, my prayer is one that Paul prays for the people of Ephesus in Ephesians 1:17-18

"...that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you"

Camino Tales: Reaching Santiago

Originally written on July 11, 2013 at 2am.

The last night before Santiago was one of anticipation. We stopped in at town called Arco that night with about 20km left to Santiago. We planned to wake up at 3:30am and out by 4am to make sure we got to Santiago by 9am. It was Sunday the next day, and mass was at noon. So despite the heat, it being light outside still, and everyone out and about, I tried to go to sleep at 7pm. It didn't work. I estimated I got about two hours of sleep by the time my alarm went off at 3:30. Walking in the dark we walked through Arco and into a Eucalyptus forest. I had the thought of how beautiful it all was conflicting with how stupidly tired I was as I laid my head back on my backpack and tried to sleep walk. I could sense Adilene's urgency as she walked and kept looking behind as if telling me to hurry up. If you know me well at all, you know how much I am not someone who deals well with lack of sleep. I could have punched her in the face every time I felt her looking at me.

But there was about half an hour of awakeness from 4:20 to 4:40 in which I couldn't help but sing to myself as I looked at the stars a worship song that goes "Tonight the starts speak of your infinite love, and it serves to remind me that what I have means nothing at all compared to your glory, oh Lord." And as I look back, I think that is what the Camino has taught me - that what I have means nothing at all because God's infinite love doesn't care. The best part is about me singing this song is that usually the song is a grieving song for me because the chorus reads, "How long until your voice speaks clearly? How long till your arms envelope me? I cry: be my strength when I am weak. Oh Lord, have mercy on me please." But those lyrics didn't fit any more (except for maybe the "have mercy on me" for my angry thoughts every time I saw Adilene look back at me). During the entire Camino, I felt God's arms enveloping me- through all of the crosses we walked by each day, through meeting new friends and laughing about our pain and others' pain or just life, through our French parents, through Jael and Adilene at times, through my actual parents thousands of miles away. I was never alone on the Camino. I was never crying "be my strength," because God was already providing it before I even could think it.

By the time the sun rose fully we were only 4.7km away from Santiago and a small cafe was open. We stopped for 20 minutes and I was able to get a tiny cafe con leche and change my socks. I finally felt awake (meaning I finally walked fast enough to keep Adilene from annoying me). As we saw the first signs of the Cathedral, we past am older Yorkshire couple we had met a couple weeks earlier. We said hello, the husband made s joke we didn't quite catch, and we hurried on by. As we entered the square in front of the cathedral, I felt as if I were dreaming. Thirty three days of wandering around Spain, and now it's over. And then we turned and saw our French mom and dad hugging each other and crying. They had started from Le Puy, France - walking so much farther than us. We waited a little before walking about to her, not wanting to interrupt their moment. But as soon as she saw us, she embraced us calling us her girls/ daughters in French. We took a few pictures with them, and I was able to tell her that my feet were completely healed. After we saw them in Leon, almost two weeks before that, I thought we would never see them again. She had told us then that she would see us beautiful and healed in Santiago. I think we were more sweaty than beautiful, but I was definitely healed.