It is the end of another school year. Assessment time. The power to evaluate, and critique a child's progress is in my hands.
As I sit here and look out at the sea of faces in my classroom, a disturbing thought occurs to me. What if at the end of the year these children evaluated me?
I have a motto (one of many) on my desk by Wes Haystead, It says that "Childhood is not a disease to be cured or endured. It is a God - ordained part of life with value and significance that continually allows the participants to experience their world from a fresh, unspoiled, point of view."
Is that just something I decorate with, or is that the theme that drove how I ran my classroom? Could my students say that I valued them for who God made them to be? Did I spend more of my time enduring them,or enjoying them for the individuals that they are?
I know it is a strange idea to play with, to give credence to what a child would have to say. I guess,I have come to the point that I cannot value who they are, if I don't value what they think.
What if I put in their hands the tools by which to determine my failure or success ?
What would MY report card say?
After the grades are entered, what would my evaluators put on my comment line? That line that all kids dread. The place where teachers can explain a grade, justify an action, or deliver a verdict about a child. That little space that with a click of the button, I get to have the last word.
What would they say about me? My performance? The part of me that can’t be balanced and weighed. A judgement of skill. The part that is not a mathematical formula, but the final statement of belief on a subject.
Pass or fail?
Assessment is hard. Self -Assessment is scary. To honestly stare into the mirror and see who you are. To face myself, and my judges who are with me 8 hours a day. In front of them I am authentic, in front of them,
.....I really have no excuse.
For 180 days they watch, they experience, they learn who I am. Just thinking about this concept starts my mind reeling.
I only get so many minutes a day, how many did I waste?
Who am I when the door is closed? When it is just me and those kids? Did I hold myself to the same standards that I expected from them?
Did I respect all people? Did I do good deeds? Did they hear me say good things? Was I prepared? Did I do my best everyday? Was I honest all the time? Was I kind? Was I fair? Did I teach anything that needs to be untaught? Did I show up on time, every day, ready to teach? Was I gracious when needed? Disciplinarian when warranted? Knowledgeable? Willing to help? Was I Selfless or selfish?
Did I do enough? Could there have been something I missed? Was I genuine? Did I give my all?
Ultimately, I know that they are children. They live in a world of popsicles and candy and Sponge Bob. Their idea is Disneyland, and mine is more like jail.
But.....honestly, who knows me better than them?
I give my kids an assignment. Each year I ask my kids to write a letter to a student in my class next year. They are to explain how to survive sixth grade, and of course, how to survive ME.
The letters are funny. Recounting things and events that transpired through the year. I love hearing children explain to other children.... Me. I usually find things like: She likes Dr. Pepper. Bring her chocolate. Don't mess with her daughters, This and that, make her crazy!... but, then there are some other things. It is usually sprinkled with ideas on respect, fairness, kindness, organized chaos, and volume.
It is entertaining to read, very humbling to think about. My best and my worst, impossible to hide.
Now, I know to some people it is just a job, but to some of us it is just .... not. They are more than a paycheck. They are children. They are a responsibility. A trust earned.
I have to face the fact that even my best may not meet all their needs. Somewhere there has to be a line.
But sitting in my room today, it occured to me.....
What if the report card this time were mine?
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
A Man of God
For all of us who love the minister and understand the sacrifices made.....
A Man Of God
People call him a Man of God,
One after HIS own heart…
But do these people really see
the man who is torn apart?
Struggling and warring each new day,
To be better than the rest.
Knowing every eye is watching when he’s put to the test.
His time is gone even before it ever really comes,
Trying to squeeze several lives into a single one.
Others have done it, so why can’t he
Complete the task at hand?
Trying to learn, study and grow
to fulfill part of God’s plan.
He has few friends, yet they are dear
Because others just can’t see....
That all too often the minister's life
Is attacked by the enemy.
Satan will do anything to discourage or distract.
Frustration will set in .....When the man is attacked.
Exhausted from the fight,
at the end of a busy day,
This man is kneeling by his bed.... and he he begins to pray.
He prays that God will guide him along life’s narrow path.
He knows God will hear him, and grant his request at last.
When all is finally over, and Eternity is at hand…
The Heavenly angels will ask of God,
“Who truly was this man?”
And with a smile the Lord will say…“My child, gold streets you’ll trod,
Cause through temptation, joy, and pain,
you were a Man of God.”
NM 1996
A Man Of God
People call him a Man of God,
One after HIS own heart…
But do these people really see
the man who is torn apart?
Struggling and warring each new day,
To be better than the rest.
Knowing every eye is watching when he’s put to the test.
His time is gone even before it ever really comes,
Trying to squeeze several lives into a single one.
Others have done it, so why can’t he
Complete the task at hand?
Trying to learn, study and grow
to fulfill part of God’s plan.
He has few friends, yet they are dear
Because others just can’t see....
That all too often the minister's life
Is attacked by the enemy.
Satan will do anything to discourage or distract.
Frustration will set in .....When the man is attacked.
Exhausted from the fight,
at the end of a busy day,
This man is kneeling by his bed.... and he he begins to pray.
He prays that God will guide him along life’s narrow path.
He knows God will hear him, and grant his request at last.
When all is finally over, and Eternity is at hand…
The Heavenly angels will ask of God,
“Who truly was this man?”
And with a smile the Lord will say…“My child, gold streets you’ll trod,
Cause through temptation, joy, and pain,
you were a Man of God.”
NM 1996
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
7:29
The room is silent. ..
The chaos of the day awaits me.
The desks are vacant and still.
They wait on my children. I can see each smile.
Each face a story, each story a promise.
They will be here in just a minute…
The beginning craze of another day, the blessed noise of
childhood.
Mountains of needs will meet me as swing open the door.
One child needs breakfast, another needs shoes.
One didn’t get a hug this morning, and the other has never
been told the word “no”.
Everything from forgotten homework, in the midst of
forgotten dreams will enter here.
7:29 mocks me…
Are you ready? Do you have what they need?
My humanness is overwhelming, as they look to me.
In their eyes I am Superwoman,yet my heart knows the
echoing truth.
Years of trying have proven, while I desperately want to ….
I can't fix it all
The Responsibility some days can be daunting,
trying to adhere to the State and School standards,
Ultimately knowing I am judged only by YOURS.
In this moment, 7:29, I am humbled.
The Holy hush that engulfs me prompts me to realize...
That while I love these children, they belong to YOU.
Remind me in the quiet of 7:29,
to treat them with care.
In just a moment the bell will ring, the day will begin.
Help me to remember in the sacredness of 7:29,
They are Your children.
This is Your classroom.
These are Your plans for the future.
This day belongs to You.
nm 2009
cell phones and a sacrifice
Cell phones and Sacrifice
It was Palm Sunday evening service and our congregation was observing the Lord’s Supper. We had experienced a wonderfully sweet time. We were right at the end of the service, which was running a few minutes late- and out of the silence,
…..a cell phone rings.
It played a happy little tune and took an eternity to turn off. Immediately you could feel the disdain. The air was thick with silent judgment. Discord filled the room. The moment was broken, the seriousness gone. The mood had been forever altered .
……….And I laughed.
Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the Celebration of the Table. In the severity of the situation. Of my need for a Savior. The price that was paid was unfathomable. The ransom for my soul was exchanged.
As we walked out of the room, I heard people saying “It was such a sweet time- until that phone messed up everything”.
While I understand what they were saying….. my mind kept echoing the same question.
How do you mess up a sacrifice?
The deed is done. The price paid. Death, Hell and the Grave have been defeated.
Funny- it happened on Palm Sunday , we were 10 minutes late.
The day we celebrate the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. The beginning of Holy Week . The week where the world was waiting for Jesus to do what was expected- and he did just the opposite.
The parallel to me last night was uncanny- We wanted silence and somberness. The world wanted us to hurry up. The world was again waiting for someone.
The present collided with the past…. and we were offended by the disturbance of the Sacred.
Wasn’t that was Jesus’ life was all about? God being interrupted because we had a need? His holiness disturbed by our humanness?
Isn’t that what we now are called to do? Be disturbed from our comfort so others will know the price paid? What is a sacrifice worth if the value isn’t honored?
Now I know the Lord’s Supper is a time to reflect, to remember and to be so very thankful- but why does it always have to be somber?
Even the disciples left singing.
So I guess that is where I am today. Contemplating the sacrifice, pondering why I laughed, entertaining the absurd.
I guess I laughed because … well… I was reminded again to wake up to the wonder of it all.
That little ringtone was a reminder to me that somewhere there is a party going on. All of Heaven is celebrating . One day- I will get to hear the music- and while I am here- I am called not just to remember....I need to teach others to dance.
It was Palm Sunday evening service and our congregation was observing the Lord’s Supper. We had experienced a wonderfully sweet time. We were right at the end of the service, which was running a few minutes late- and out of the silence,
…..a cell phone rings.
It played a happy little tune and took an eternity to turn off. Immediately you could feel the disdain. The air was thick with silent judgment. Discord filled the room. The moment was broken, the seriousness gone. The mood had been forever altered .
……….And I laughed.
Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the Celebration of the Table. In the severity of the situation. Of my need for a Savior. The price that was paid was unfathomable. The ransom for my soul was exchanged.
As we walked out of the room, I heard people saying “It was such a sweet time- until that phone messed up everything”.
While I understand what they were saying….. my mind kept echoing the same question.
How do you mess up a sacrifice?
The deed is done. The price paid. Death, Hell and the Grave have been defeated.
Funny- it happened on Palm Sunday , we were 10 minutes late.
The day we celebrate the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. The beginning of Holy Week . The week where the world was waiting for Jesus to do what was expected- and he did just the opposite.
The parallel to me last night was uncanny- We wanted silence and somberness. The world wanted us to hurry up. The world was again waiting for someone.
The present collided with the past…. and we were offended by the disturbance of the Sacred.
Wasn’t that was Jesus’ life was all about? God being interrupted because we had a need? His holiness disturbed by our humanness?
Isn’t that what we now are called to do? Be disturbed from our comfort so others will know the price paid? What is a sacrifice worth if the value isn’t honored?
Now I know the Lord’s Supper is a time to reflect, to remember and to be so very thankful- but why does it always have to be somber?
Even the disciples left singing.
So I guess that is where I am today. Contemplating the sacrifice, pondering why I laughed, entertaining the absurd.
I guess I laughed because … well… I was reminded again to wake up to the wonder of it all.
That little ringtone was a reminder to me that somewhere there is a party going on. All of Heaven is celebrating . One day- I will get to hear the music- and while I am here- I am called not just to remember....I need to teach others to dance.
... and Peter.
Mark 16:7
“But go, and tell the disciples , and Peter, that He is going before you into Galilee. You will see Him there.”
Two little words kept haunting me as I read it. Two little words I have seen thousands of times. Two little words which now mean so much more to me. The redemption of two little words .
And last night I saw it. It was jumping up and down. Like a little distraction dancing on the page.
The two little words….and Peter
I was reading about the tomb- the first visit to perfume the body of Christ. There on the pages it hit me
…And Peter.
You know Peter. Loud, argumentative, boisterous, passionate at all the wrong times. One minute ready to battle for Jesus- hours later… cursing and hiding.
Peter, the one who denied Him.
Peter, the one who ran away, turned his heart when Jesus didn’t do what he said. Peter- a lowly fisherman, then disciple turned anarchy.
…and Peter.
One minute preaching his name- the next disappointing Him. Guess that is why those verses were flashing at me. Even after all the mistakes, the failures, the broken promises, Jesus still wanted Him.
Let’s be honest here. If I were Jesus, I would have been mad. What do you mean denying me? You said you would fight, you said you would die.
All Jesus said was--- and Peter. Redemptive love would not have been my theme.
Jesus- the One who never gives up, never lets go. The One who knows our hearts despite our bad decisions. He wanted Peter!
The thing here is this- I identify with Peter. I have had moments. Moments of absolute commitment sprinkled through a lifetime of misplaced direction. Moments- some loud, boisterous determined moments, some moments of hiding in the shadows. Teetering between devotion and despair
The story last night was different somehow- It wasn’t so much about the saving of the lost- but the restoration of the found. The ones who know Jesus, who have sat at His feet. The ones who have seen His power and felt His presence. The ones who claim Him, yet deny Him.
It is about redemption… Of those who know Jesus and those who don’t
It is about our humanness and His holiness colliding in a demonstration of all consuming love. It is about us.
Always thought the story was just for the lost. Forgiveness of sin. Price- sacrifice. Salvation is at hand. Resurrection power pouring down. Lost souls coming to Christ.
While it is—what does it mean to us once we accept it? It means…and Peter.
That same love that hung on the cross, the same love that restored Peter is the same love I come to daily. In the middle of my fallible heart stands a Savior. Not just loving me- not just waiting for me- but seeking and inviting me to come back. To run to him- failure and all and know he wants me- He asked for me!
So there in the middle of my Bible is a new story. A fresh, exciting and personal- the cross isn’t just about salvation – the cross is about God’s irrevocable love for his screwed up- messed up- children.
The invitation is still there. He still wants us back.
“But go, and tell the disciples , and Peter, that He is going before you into Galilee. You will see Him there.”
Two little words kept haunting me as I read it. Two little words I have seen thousands of times. Two little words which now mean so much more to me. The redemption of two little words .
And last night I saw it. It was jumping up and down. Like a little distraction dancing on the page.
The two little words….and Peter
I was reading about the tomb- the first visit to perfume the body of Christ. There on the pages it hit me
…And Peter.
You know Peter. Loud, argumentative, boisterous, passionate at all the wrong times. One minute ready to battle for Jesus- hours later… cursing and hiding.
Peter, the one who denied Him.
Peter, the one who ran away, turned his heart when Jesus didn’t do what he said. Peter- a lowly fisherman, then disciple turned anarchy.
…and Peter.
One minute preaching his name- the next disappointing Him. Guess that is why those verses were flashing at me. Even after all the mistakes, the failures, the broken promises, Jesus still wanted Him.
Let’s be honest here. If I were Jesus, I would have been mad. What do you mean denying me? You said you would fight, you said you would die.
All Jesus said was--- and Peter. Redemptive love would not have been my theme.
Jesus- the One who never gives up, never lets go. The One who knows our hearts despite our bad decisions. He wanted Peter!
The thing here is this- I identify with Peter. I have had moments. Moments of absolute commitment sprinkled through a lifetime of misplaced direction. Moments- some loud, boisterous determined moments, some moments of hiding in the shadows. Teetering between devotion and despair
The story last night was different somehow- It wasn’t so much about the saving of the lost- but the restoration of the found. The ones who know Jesus, who have sat at His feet. The ones who have seen His power and felt His presence. The ones who claim Him, yet deny Him.
It is about redemption… Of those who know Jesus and those who don’t
It is about our humanness and His holiness colliding in a demonstration of all consuming love. It is about us.
Always thought the story was just for the lost. Forgiveness of sin. Price- sacrifice. Salvation is at hand. Resurrection power pouring down. Lost souls coming to Christ.
While it is—what does it mean to us once we accept it? It means…and Peter.
That same love that hung on the cross, the same love that restored Peter is the same love I come to daily. In the middle of my fallible heart stands a Savior. Not just loving me- not just waiting for me- but seeking and inviting me to come back. To run to him- failure and all and know he wants me- He asked for me!
So there in the middle of my Bible is a new story. A fresh, exciting and personal- the cross isn’t just about salvation – the cross is about God’s irrevocable love for his screwed up- messed up- children.
The invitation is still there. He still wants us back.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
5 days
For 5 days you will be judged.
For five days, I will be judged.
It is hard to comprehend that the sum of our time together is measured in just five days.
First of all I want to say…...."I am sorry."
Testing begins, and I morph into a robot. One you aren’t used to seeing.
For 5 days I must turn into a stranger,
reading from a script, afraid that one wrong word or slip could ruin it all.
That must be strange to you." I am sorry."
For 5 days I must turn into a stranger,
reading from a script, afraid that one wrong word or slip could ruin it all.
That must be strange to you." I am sorry."
For 5 days we test you. We ask you to pour all of your knowledge out with booklets and pencils and little circles.
For five days we tell you to “Do your best on
the test!”
Some people care about those 5 days……I care about the other 180.
I know that on Mondays, when we have pizza, you get sad because Mom loved that kind of pizza, and now she is gone.
I know your “Very best” today already happened. It was getting up, and out of the house on time, by yourself , and you made your own lunch…
you are 11.
Yes, you fell asleep during the test and I woke you up. I hated that. I saw you crying this morning. Who knows how your day started.
We talk in class all the time about when will we use this anyway? I can honestly tell you that no one has ever asked me to find the conversion for a centiliter in the metric system.
Don’t get me wrong. I do believe in accountability. Just it is to the One I answer to on a daily basis...
It is HIM... I try to please.
We ask you to, Bring your "A" game,
“To leave it all on the field”,
“To give us your best for five days."
Funny, I just expect more.
I want your best everyday, and I know what that is.
I know that those two paragraphs you wrote , while considered mediocre to the world, caused me inside to jump up and down. I know that was your very best.
I know you like to take your time and draw out the pictures, I am sorry the time keeper said "Stop."
I saw you start to cry today. Inside, I wanted to rescue you. To show you how to fix it. I wanted to let you know, “ You really are smart, you did get it right."
.... but I can’t.
I have to watch, stand there and do nothing. I get to watch your struggle and see you in pain.
You are used to me lending a hand, or a smile , or a hug to encourage you. Today, I must stay away.
I am sorry.
I am certain you know the answer, but the bubbles, they just messed you up.
So, don’t worry about what that test says about you, we know the truth.
We know you like Goldfish for snack and Corn dogs at lunch. We know that you want to be a lawyer one day (but are already convinced you are not smart enough because of the test .)
We know that last night at home, it was kind of scary. We know you really like school because here you feel safe.
We know that while you can’t prove it on the test, you are the best computer fixer/ furniture repair man around .......even at 11.
We know the truth .
I know you! I know the total of who you are can’t be measured on paper.
I know your strengths and weakness , and how they make you who you are.
I know that those 5 days are just a glimpse into who you are becoming.
While others see a snapshot, I get the movie.
Let them have five days.... I want YOU!
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