Remembrance

If it seems as though I only write from a place of my failures, it’s because those are the times that I learn and grow the most, and believe me when I say I’m a work in progress. The moment I think I have something down, I’m reminded how much more I have to learn or how much deeper I so desperately need my roots to grow. So, here’s another chapter out of my life from just a few weeks ago.

It all started with one of my administrators coming in for an observation during the last 10 minutes of my class. What did he see? Almost all of the kids are on their cell phones. Those who are done with the activity are scrolling and talking to the person next to them. One kid with air pods in is doing the griddy around the room, and I’m frantically trying to pass back papers and look like I’m not the ringmaster of a circus. If I could have picked the absolute worst time of the worst period of the worst day of the entire school year, that’s when I was observed. Any other day, my class does not look like this. Bless.

What was the context that was missing? My kids were working on an activity I had never tried before. Typically, their cell phones are checked in when they come to class, but for ease of what they needed to look up, I had permitted them to use them during the last half of class while they worked. Some students needed to work until the bell, while others wrapped up the activity with some time to spare. However, I never made them check their cell phones back in when they were done, and honestly just let them do what they wanted while I was desperately waiting for the bell. Why? Because I was running a fever and dying a slow death. Every ounce of me hurt! I went home later that day and found out I had the flu.

I cried all the way home. Surely, he must have thought that what he saw did not match the reputation I have. I had disappointed him. I was a failure. I hadn’t met expectations. 

After several days home in bed, I finally returned to school. I was just getting over what I believed my administrator thought about me, when a fellow colleague made a comment that sent me into a tailspin. She most likely didn’t mean much by it, but I overanalyzed it to death, resuscitated it, then completed a three-hour operation until it flatlined. What was the takeaway that I created in my head? That I wasn’t a good teacher.

From there, I allowed silly mistakes that happened in my classroom in front of my students to further confirm that I didn’t know what I was doing. Side bar: if you’re a new teacher, don’t be afraid to own up to your mistakes. I’ve made it a habit to let my students know I’m not perfect and I apologize when necessary. They appreciate knowing their teachers are human.

So why did I title this entry “remembrance”? Because the practice of remembrance is so powerful. Yes, I’ve had a string of less than sparkly moments lately, but I also have an envelope at school with 17 years worth of notes from both students and parents that tell me I’m not a failure.

We need reminding all the time because we so easily forget. 

My student/parent letters remind me that God has given me exactly what I need to fulfill the work to which he has called me.

My journals remind me that God is faithful in all aspects of my life. When I walk through a dark season, I can read my own words that attest to his compassion and provision.

My friends with whom I have shared testimony remind me of the work he has done and is doing when I can’t see past my own nose.

My pictures remind me of moments of love, exhilaration, joy, peace, and togetherness.

This exact print hangs in my classroom:

Its complete story is for another post. Just know that God explicitly used this verse almost exactly a year ago over and over again to confirm my move to high school. I’m not kidding when I say I couldn’t escape Moses or Exodus 14:14. It was a l.o.n.g. process. He told me to be still. He would fight for me. I had no choice but to do exactly what he said. When I finally signed a contract for high school, I knew this verse would hang in my classroom. A reminder on tough days that I was exactly where he had called me to be. 

Remembrance. Be still. Recall. When the days are tough, remind yourself of what the Lord has done. It might be through saved letters, it might be through journals, it might be through conversations, it might be through memory. 

Sometimes we need to glance back so we can move forward.