The Beauty of Teaching

In my AP Language class, we write OPs each six weeks.  OP stands for Occasional Paper, and the point is to write a reflection on the occasion of something happening that makes you think. (And yes, I totally stole this from another teacher.)  The occasions can be small, like squishing a lightning bug, or profound, like the death of a friend.  Some are wonderful, some are sad, some are too short and some are 4-page manifestos about Harry Potter.  But the beauty of OPs is that they are all unique - just like each student.  At the end of each school year, each student takes the OP of which they are most proud and revises it, and I keep them all together in a book.  This year, I decided to write one as well, and it just so happened that an occasion presented itself not long after that decision was made.


A few days ago, I made a comment to a kid in my class, Jacob, in which I stated, "that's the beauty of being a teacher." He replied, immediately, with his usual conviction and hint of condescension, "There is nothing beautiful about teaching." Emphasis on the nothing.


I was stung, obviously. To have someone tell you, wholeheartedly, that there is nothing remotely exciting or inspiring about your chosen career is obviously tough to swallow. I was hurt. My primary reaction was to be defensive, and my secondary reaction was to do what I always do when someone says something that bothers me - obsess over it for hours, days, weeks until I've lost all faith in myself and become convinced they are right.

I realized a couple days ago why it was so hurtful to me - because it's something I think about all the time. I swore for years, adamantly, that I would never become a teacher. They are underpaid, underappreciated, and in my teenage years, they represented a life of mediocrity and misery. Of course I could do better than that job.
And yet here I am. 7 years into this career, and being told by a 16 year old kid that my job is worthless.

And he is right. It is ugly. What’s ugly about it? The kid who can't wait two minutes until the bell rings to tell another kid to shut the eff up. The parent who sends you an email on Thanksgiving Day to tell you that the book you've chosen for their kid is valuable, yet inappropriate. The parent who goes to see the athletic director to tell him you aren't doing your job well enough. It is standing in front of a class, knowing there are students that despise you, that curse you under their breath, criticize everything about you, and tell everyone how much they hate you. It is knowing that you aren't taken seriously because how could a person who coaches a sport actually know something about English as well? It's knowing that everyone in the room truly believes they are smarter than you, truly believes you live a sad life, and truly believes that they would never settle for what you do. It is being talked over and talked down to, lied to and lied about, mocked, disobeyed, cussed, hated, despised, stifled, and disappointed. Yes, Jacob, you're right. It is ugly.

But there are moments.


Like the day when the girl in your class buys you Life Skills cookies, just because. When a senior writes you a note after the last game to tell you that you meant something in her life. When you take your time to write a thoughtful letter of recommendation, and the kid comes up to you with a hug and a real, sincere thank you. When the kid whose reputation has preceded him turns out to not be so bad after all.

It's making real, true friends with your co-workers. It's your assistant coach putting their arm around you and telling you that you are doing a good job when you feel like the pressure is too much.  It's knowing you're never by yourself, that there's always someone to cover your class or your tail, to make your copies or your day.

It is leaving school at 4 pm and driving home in the sunlight, the next three months stretching out in front of you like a blank page waiting for words. It’s the chance to do it over again every year, to make right the wrongs, to do better, to be better.

It's the kid whose Facebook quote is from a book you made him read and knew he’d love. It's the smiles in the hallway, the hugs on the sidewalk, the random text from an old player; it's the real and true love you feel for the kids who come to your classroom every day, the pride you feel when they succeed, the pain you feel when they suffer. It is knowing, no matter what happens, no matter where they go, no matter what they do, that you were there. That somewhere in the foggy depths of their memories, that you live on. That you had a part in their growth. That maybe something you said will be remembered - either the moment that they knew someone cared, or the moment you made them feel like they needed to prove you wrong.


You can tell me this job isn't worth it. You can tell me it's too much red tape and too little money, too much pressure and not enough reward, too much heartache and not enough happiness. You can tell me you'd never do it, and you don't understand why I do.

But don't tell me it isn't beautiful.

#3. Give someone a shot

I have some very scary things on my summer list: hold a baby alligator, do a flip on a trampoline, watch The Sound of Music. This one, though, takes the cake.

When I mentioned this idea to my friends and asked for suggestions, most came up with practical things like, "You can ride a horse" or "shoot skeet". Not my friend Amy. Her immediate response was, "You can give me a shot!" This is just the way she thinks. It's sort of why I love her.

Amy struggles with a very real and debilitating disease. And while things are slowly getting better, she is forced to take a lot of medication and give herself injections every day. Except yesterday. Yesterday, I got to do it.

Amy showed up around 5:30, having put off her daily 2:00 injection just for me. She dumped what seemed to be an entire doctor's office on my coffee table (she even has her own waste container!) and told me to hurry the hell up. I really thought I'd have some time to warm up to the situation, but Amy said no, we had to do it immediately. Sometimes she's really pushy. ;)

It was really scary!!! I pretended to be brave, but I was sweating my ass off. Especially since I knew Amy was really nervous too. And I won't lie, she had to hold my hand when I inserted the needle. I just didn't think I could do that part with no help.

But I think I did pretty well - no blood, no eruption of medicine back onto her leg. I slapped a Band-Aid on it, wiped the sweat from my brow, and marked #3 off of my list.

This one might not seem like a big deal. But, it was a tangible reminder of what my friend goes through on a daily basis. I will openly admit that I can be very self-centered, worrying about the minute details of a fairly monotonous daily life, complaining about what I have and wishing for what I don't - and often forget how much other people are struggling. Sometimes you have to see something for yourself, be a part of it, touch it with your own hands, for it to take on its most real meaning. Life is real, it's short, and it's not easy for anyone.

2 days down. All summer to go. Stay tuned.

The Omelette

Ahh, summer. I do love summer. No school, no students, no practices, no (for the most part) commitments. Two and a half months off was a deciding factor in the profession I chose, after all. Life is easy this time of year. I wake up when I want, go to sleep when I want, take a shower when I want...

Unfortunately, along with the relative ease of summer life and the general lack of structure inevitably comes...boredom.

And what follows boredom?

Laziness. Sloth. Sluggishness. Lethargy. Alcoholism. Weight gain. Self-loathing. (Do the last three happen to other people?)

So here I am, on the second day of summer vacation, face to face with another day, another 16 hours stretching out before me like a canvas begging to be painted. Please, Amanda, don't leave me blank again today.

And then came the decision that will, hopefully, change my life.

I decided to make an omelette.

I've never made an omelette before. Successfully, at least. I tried once a few years ago but attempted the fold too quickly and it all fell to shit, and I gave up on all things domestic for a while.

But this omelette...this omelette was different. It was made of egg whites. It was accompanied by an e-how article with pithy instructions so that I didn't eff it all up. I was patient. I followed directions. And in the end, it turned out beautifully. It folded. It was cooked through. And as I sat at my breakfast table and admired it, the proverbial light bulb was illuminated and two hours later, here I am, writing this blog.

So everyone has a "Bucket List", 100 things they want to do before they die, etc. I am no exception; there are a million things I still have left to do before the big day comes.

However, those things take time and money. And while I certainly plan to drive a Volvo through the Italian countryside and drink Guinness in Ireland someday, I'm not quite financially able to do that yet. But what I am able to do is think of all the simple things I've never done that don't necessarily cost money, and don't take a lot of time, but are still valuable and inspirational.

So, thanks to three egg whites, a frying pan and a spatula, I have a new and brilliant plan. Every day this summer, I will pick something simple I've never done (ex: rollerblade, watch Casablanca, make a cake from scratch), complete it, and check it off my list. And I plan to blog about each item on the list.

I'm still in the process of coming up with items for the list. I'm about 1/3 of the way through, thanks to some great friends and their creative little brains.

So what do I hope to gain from all this?

1.) Well, first of all, I'm two days into summer and bored as hell. So my practical side tells me that by having a plan, maybe I will gain structure and not weight.

2.) I haven't done a whole lot in my life. I was very shy as a kid and self-conscious, so there are a lot of things I could have done by now and just never did because I didn't like to fail in front of others. So, yeah, while I've traveled to a few fancy places, there are a lot of simple things that other people have done that I just never have. So I hope to gain some pride, I guess you could say.

3.) As I compile my list, I notice that most of these items either require someone else's help, or will be better shared with another person. So not only will I feel proud, and accomplished, and powerful, I hope that, most importantly, I will gain some new, fun, and special memories with those I love the most.

Day 1 down. Here's to: following through, new ideas, being brave, putting yourself out there, and of course, a very special egg-white omelette.

Cheers to '09

So my sister posted a blog suggesting that we all stop for a moment, think about the past year, and focus on the things we did well. I think this is a great idea; honestly, I spend a lot of time dwelling on mistakes and indiscretions rather than successes. But overall, this was a good year. Sure, I screwed up a time or two. Sure, I tried and failed more than once. BUT, I also succeeded at accomplishing some pretty cool things. So to follow my sister's positive lead, I'll name the top five things I did well this year.

1. Watched Duke play at Cameron Indoor Stadium

Interestingly enough, the greatest accomplishment on my 2009 calendar happened on the last day of the year. On New Year's Eve, two of my favorite guys and I walked in the rain and fog 15 minutes down Science Boulevard in Durham to Cameron Indoor Stadium, a place I believe to be the best venue not only in college basketball, but maybe in all of basketball. Walking in to the Gothic style building, I got chills, thinking of the players who roamed the halls, the sweat, blood, and tears that have been poured out on that hollow hardwood floor, of the legacy that is almost tangible in that gym. The air is heavier for the history. It was absolutely beautiful, absolutely sacred. That game was, by far, the coolest thing I've ever done. Hearing the shoes squeak on the hardwood, the crazies chanting and clapping, the eruptions of the crowds, I remember thinking, "I hope this is what heaven looks like."

Oh, and Denzel was there.

2. London and Paris

Over spring break, my two very best friends and I boarded a plane and headed to London. After spending three days there, we got on a train, took a two hour nap, and woke up in Paris. Ever since I was young, I dreamed of visiting Paris. But truthfully, I never though it would happen. I have always felt like I was one of those people who was only ever going to wish I was doing things, rather than actually doing them. But in October of 2008, we made a decision to just buy a plane ticket. Over the next few months, we booked hotel rooms and train tickets, and around $1200 and a 9 hour plane ride later, we landed in Europe. And I think a part of me is still there.

3. Made the playoffs

Yes, we barely made the playoffs. Went 7-7 in district, lost games we shouldn't have, and had our destiny in another team's hands on the last night of the season. I remember rushing to Nederland to catch the end of their game, knowing if they won we lost our spot in the postseason. One of the best memories I have is watching the ball go through the net and knowing we were in, and hugging one of my seniors as she jumped up and down.

Yeah, we got 4th in district. And yeah, we got our ass kicked in the first round. And yeah, I hate losing and am still disappointed. BUT...we went. And for those twelve kids, that's what will matter ten years from now. It's not about me, really. I had my chances in high school. I breathed the playoff atmosphere, I lived success in those games. But my days are over. It's about them now.

4. Got named 20-4A Coach of the Year.

I'm not a person who likes to brag, so I hate to even put this on the list; however, I'm not adding it because I feel like I was the best coach in our district. I certainly don't feel that way. The reason I'm proud of this accomplishment because at 26, after three years of coaching, I earned the respect of a lot of people I respect. You see, the coaches in the district vote on Coach of the Year. And while I certainly understand there are several coaches who are better than me, I feel like they gave me this award as a nod. Just to say, hey, you are doing a good job with what you have. Noted.

5. Spent time with the best people on earth.

I love my friends. They are all so different, so unique, so freakin' cool. What makes a good friend? Well this year, 1) I found that good friends always answer your text messages. Sometimes it's a couple of hours later, but eventually they all respond. For some reason, to me, this says a lot about a friendship. 2) They come to important things in your life. They watch girls basketball when they don't care about girls basketball, because they are good friends. 3.) They make you feel better when things suck. They say things like "keep your chin up homie" and "I miss you" and "You didn't really like him anyway." They tell the truth and they lie when they need to, but they always, always, make you feel good.

I'm not perfect, not even close. But I feel like it when they are around.

***

Sure, there were some things about this year that were really hard. I've seen some good friends drift out of my life. I've made mistakes - I've spent, drank, cussed, and bitched entirely too much, saved, prayed, and exercised entirely too little. I've lived. And I've done some really cool things, and spent time with some really cool people. I'm getting older, getting wiser, and hopefully, getting better.

I read a book this year called Looking for Alaska. I love young adult novels, and this one was great. The main character loves reading the last words of famous people, and I was enthralled with the last words of the late poet Francois Rabelais: "I go to seek a Great Perhaps." I chose it for the title of my blog, and if I ever get a tattoo, that's what it will say. I got a little closer to my Great Perhaps this year. And if this year is any indication of the year to come, I'll still be seeking it in 2010. My suggestion to you, my few and dear readers, is to get out, see the world, take chances, dive in with both feet.

Move.

Create.

Seek.

Cheers.

Boys and Girls

As I get older, I've seen a lot of people come and go in my life. At the moment, I feel as though I'm in some sort of transition period - only I'm not the one moving forward; everyone else is.
I've always had much better relationships with guys than girls. It's not that I don't like girls, but I'm just not...girly. I'd rather sit around and watch a game than go shopping, rather drink beer than martinis, rather talk about sports than clothes. And if you take a hard look, my closest girl friends have a lot of these qualities too. But the truth is, I have a lot more guy friends than I do girls.
Unfortunately, as I sit here, single at 26, I notice a pattern. Guys don't stick around. (We already know this, right?) My neighbor/co-worker and I spent a good four nights a week together last year, hanging out, watching tv, talking about life. I considered him a great friend. He moved away last summer, got back with his girlfriend, and I haven't spoken to him since his birthday...in October. Our mutual friend, who was part of our designated "Single Saturday" crew, recently got married and had a baby. We barely speak. These I can deal with. We were merely co-workers, not longtime friends.
But there are others. A guy I considered one of my closest friends since the 5th grade has gone through a lot of changes in the last year. A break-up followed by a new relationship that was very tumultuous at first. So who did he call when all this was happening? Who knew every detail of his life, the ONLY person who knew every detail of his life? Me. Of course. How many hours did we spend on the phone, talking through life's obstacles, sharing opinions, being completely honest with each other. Countless hours. And yet I told him the whole time that our relationship would never survive his new relationship. And it hasn't. Another friend, lost to another woman. Just a picture on my refrigerator, another part of my past.
I mean, I understand. Girls and guys can't really be friends once someone gets into a relationship. But it doesn't make it any easier.
I've always had one of those visual minds. Numbers sit on a line from left to right. Days look like a calendar, every Sunday starting over like pressing return on a typewriter. And these boys sit there in my mind, all of them, and they are breaking into groups. The single ones stay on the right. The others move to the left.

New job.

Left.

New baby.

Left.

New girlfriend.

Left.


I had two imaginary friends when I was little. One of the clearest memories I have is the two of them walking down the middle of a road in my head. I suppose this is my clearest memory because it is probably when I let them go, and grew up. Anyway, the sun is setting in front of them as they walk toward it. All I can see is the silhouettes of my friends, slowly walking, slowly shrinking into the distance.
And now I see these boys the same way. Shrinking. Heading off into the distance, leaving behind memories, and a little girl who still isn't ready to grow up.

Stuck

Well, it has certainly been awhile. That seems to be the theme in my writer's autobiography - write heatedly, passionately, and quickly...and then rest for a while. But recently I have been taking some time to read the blogs of others, and of course (not to be outdone), it makes me feel as though I should be writing, and once again the embers of the composer inside of me have begun to glow and spark.
It seems I blog in order to vent. Not purposely, of course, but unfortunately, times of stress, or anger, or worry usually bring about the need to write. So here I am...
Feeling stuck.
Is stuck the right word?? I'm not sure.
Don't get me wrong, I love modern technology. I love that I can be driving in my car, receive an email on my iPhone, open it and its attachments, read and respond in a matter of seconds. But with that instantaneous connection inevitably comes pressure. And it's really starting to get to me.
1.) I love my job, my co-workers, my students, my players, and 2.) I absolutely wouldn't do anything else with my life but 3.) seriously, this job never ends. There is never one moment of the day where I feel completely caught up - where no one needs the gym opened, no one needs me to text so-and-so to ask thim this-and-that, when there's no summer league game to attend, where an email isn't coming in about somewhere or something I need to go or do, or more often than not, forgot to go, or do.
Sometimes I just want to turn off the switch. To just stop for a second, turn off my phone, my BRAIN, for God's sake!!! Just silence. No one can reach me. No one NEEDS me.
I guess this sounds self-centered, but I mean the exact opposite. People can certainly get along without me, that's not what I mean. I have this vision in my head where I'm sitting on a beach. I don't know how I got there - I'm sure the journey was stressful, but I'm just sitting there, soaking up the sun, sipping a cool drink, and in my quiet little expanse of beach, things are moving, but the rest of the world is on pause. Stopped - not moving foward. There is no incessant tick, tick, ticking of clocks counting more minutes, hours, days of my life until the next thing I have to do. No one is dialing my number, typing in my email address, asking someone to get a hold of me. You cannot imagine how pleasing a thought this is for me.
That will never happen, though. As much as I'd like to pause, to "live deep and suck out all the marrow of life," life moves on. There is always more to do.
As I write this, I was asked to text all my players and see how many could make a summer league practice tonight. Ten texts, ten responses, ten more texts to say "yes, there is a practice" or "no, there is not a practice." Nope, no pause button.
But a girl can dream...

The Lost Art of Competition

I went to my mom's house today, and after several beers, got into a heated discussion about the future of the basketball program at my old high school. My buddy coaches there now and is running the basketball off-season program. He was shocked to discover that most of the freshman in his off-season don't know what a double-dribble is, can't shoot a layup, and can't pivot.
Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you, but to me, it's not just disturbing, but embarrassing, ridiculous, and just plain sad. This is a school that holds 11 state titles, holds tons of records at the state tournament, and just seven years ago, saw the girls team win their ninth straight district title and the boys team two points away from the state tournament. Last year, the girls team did not win a single game, and the boys team not many more.
Any coach will tell you that programs go through cycles, that talent can go stagnant for a few years, that eventually things turn around. But as a coach at the varsity level, I know EXACTLY how long it takes to build a program, and for freshman to come to high school lacking basic fundamentals is simply unacceptable.
My hometown was once a huge supporter of the Little Dribblers program, a program that taught me not only how to play the sport, but life lessons as well. That program has all but vanished in the few years since I graduated high school. Replacing it is the ever-popular "Upward" basketball sponsored by a local church. A good idea, except every game ends in a tie, every kid gets a sticker at the end of the game for doing something good, and the spirit of competition has gone by the wayside. I understand the importance of building a child's self-esteem at an early age, but really, what is this program teaching our kids? Does it teach them to win respectfully? No, because everyone wins. Does it teach them to accept defeat with grace? No, because they are never put in that position. Does it teach them that the kids who work the hardest get to play the most? No, because everyone plays the exact amount.
I've always seen sports as a metaphor for life. You learn that becoming good at something takes hours and hours of hard work and preparation, you learn that if you don't put in the time to become the best, you won't play. You learn that sometimes no matter how hard you work and how much effort you give, someone else is just better than you. You learn that you can't do everything on your own, that you have to depend on other people to help you reach your potential; you learn discipline, respect, and you learn to compete. Winning and losing IS life. It happens. The game doesn't always work out the way you want it to, and neither does life.
We are robbing kids of these valuable lessons. They can handle it. But we have to give them the chance.