Tag Archives: 9th graders

When I am desperate, God is till enough

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It got a little dark around these parts on Wednesday.  I have the strong desire to tell you that when my sister therapized me she pointed out my nature to catastrophize things and then make some self deprecating joke or point to my own sinful nature and laugh it off. Isn’t Abby silly, she gets so worked up over stuff when God really has it. Sigh. Maybe one day I will learn. (Insert patronizing head shake and finger wagging at myself here.)

But today the Spirit is leading me to leave it. In that moment, it was that bad. It was worse. Some days this Jesus-filled-spirit-lead living thing is hard. Whether it is because you have as many diapers that need changed as hands every morning, or you drive into work everyday thinking that if you got into an accident you could skip today (hello, first year of teaching), you feel like you are suddenly in a situation that you did not sign up for and you have no idea how to get out.

Even though I try desperately to be a Jesus Lover, to live by the Norman Family Creed, to dismantle the Failure Siren, it all came to a head last week. I now understand better than ever before why the Lord implores us to humble ourselves. Being humbled by the reality of your own sinful nature totally sucks. The difference between knowing in your head that you are a sinner, and watching your sin punch someone you love in the stomach is severe.

In the midst of that I called out, Is God enough? And my call was answered. Because He is enough. He is enough and He is faithful. Not in that, yes, yes, the Bible says He is faithful so it must be true kind of ways, but rather in a visceral I did not deserve His grace and the Lord chose to lift me from my pit of self loathing anyway kind of faithful.

God was enough when  I confessed to my small group ending in “my heart is so ugly”, and they all laid hands on my head and chose to love me anyway. He was faithful in the Peanut placing her little hand on my head and patting. “Okay, mommy? Okay?” and “Jesus, Jesus, Amen.” I hope she never grows out of praying more Jesus over people. I have yet to run into a circumstance that wouldn’t be helped by more Jesus.

Meanwhile the Rooster was tickling my foot and checking for smiles. Bringing me joy, being the change she was insistent on seeing. I suppose you could say that a 7 month old was only grabbing what was right in front of her, but I wasn’t the only one who noticed her looking. I wasn’t even the first. Her looking and tickling and smiling, that is what was right in front. God is enough. He is faithful.

Thursday I received an email from Sarah Bessey.  I hope to never get over how much this means to me. There was a marked change in the way that I write out my life when I read hers. Her honest living and writing gave me permission to be the me God is molding me into. The Lord saw fit that I receive her words to me on my lunch break and cried big fat ugly tears on the keyboard until the bell rang and my freshmen were about to walk in the door. (The only crying that is acceptable in my 9th grade class is the crying I cause.)  She did not smack my hand for bringing her name into all of my mess, but instead offered prayer, understanding that grad-school is hard for the wife too, and assurance that as loud as we howl, it is enough. God is enough.

Then, Friday another email. Grace extended that I do not deserve, hope and restoration chosen when death and excommunication would be easier. Understanding and assurance and the door left open when I was sure it would be slammed in my face. There is no clearer way to see Jesus in a believer than when they extend unwarranted forgiveness to you.

Sometimes God has swooped down and healed my heart. BAM. Done. I am forever changed. I can mark the day on the calendar that He healed my body. It is finished. This change, this enough, God’s faithfulness that I am sure I do need and will need all the days of my life, this is a healing that God is asking me to choose, that He offers in this moment, and this one until the “and this moments” are linked in an eternal chain that I must continue to grab on to.

And I will, continue to grab on to that glorious chain. Because today I know that falling is hard and it can get lonely in those moments when you are no longer sure where that healing is. That chain gets covered in the muck that is the moment right here. But it will be unearthed because my God, He is faithful. My God is enough.

I Got to Be There

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One of my students worked really hard to memorize a poem. This is not something that comes easily for him. He recited that whole poem. Every word. He even volunteered to go. And at the end of the poem he was so proud he shouted the last line. “Jenny Kissed Me“ I don’t know if he will remember that poem for the rest of his life, but he will surely remember that moment. And I got to be there.

A week ago a student was called down to the Principal’s office to see his dad for the first time in 6 years. He came back to my classroom tears streaming down his face. The full-grown body that houses his 16-year-old soul visibly shaking with emotion. And I got to be there. I got to tell him how proud of him his dad must be. I got to be there.

I got to be there when a student came into my room under the guise of asking about an assignment. Really she just needed to talk to someone about the fact that she was seeing a therapist, and it was helping. She didn’t know what to think about it. I got to tell her that I saw a therapist in high school, that by the time she is thirty at least half her friends will have seen one at one time or another. She was just getting her issues worked out early, ahead of the curve. But mostly, I got to be there.

I showed a student an article that my friend had posted on Facebook. He actually read the entire thing. Then he looked me straight in the face and told me, “If I could write things like this I would be a journalist.” Later that week his study hall teacher gave him her copy of the magazine that article was in. When I asked him about it the next day he pulled out the magazine and told me about the whole thing. Not only did I get to be there. I got to help.

The coming and going of days, the terrible commute. It is exhausting some days. But it is important to remember, that it is a privilege, getting to be there. Watching students grow into their best selves. It is a beautiful thing to watch.

I still need to grow up

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This pretty much sums up my maturity level by seventh period....

We were teaching limmericks. And there was a kid who kept suggesting names that would get me into trouble. Like “there once was a young boy named chuck, how about itch Ms. Norman,” then he would start cracking up so I would start cracking up.

And my 6th period class came up with this as a class that I wrote on the board:

There once was a doctor named Bill
Who wrote a prescription for Jill
She only missed one
And she now has a son
She now always remembers that pill.

One of my students misspelled the word tests. I laughed until I cried when he asked me to proofread his poem “Girls are like school, you have to study before they put you to the testes.” I didn’t recover for the rest of the day.

I love Freshmen. Probably because I am one.

Secrets aren’t any fun

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I am teaching ninth grade this year for the first time. I really enjoy the kid’s willingness to try just about any crazy activity I can come up with, and the fact that most of them don’t have pre-conceived notions about any of the literature, means I have the chance to convince them that it is in fact interesting and applicable to their lives. I like that. It suits me.

I especially like when the ninth graders suddenly realize that Shakespeare is not as wholesome as they once assumed. Among other hilarious commentary that has been blurted out in my classroom:

– Somebody told me that when they were talking about swords they meant something else, is that true?

– Romeo’s talking about doing it!

– Did the Friar just ask Romeo if he hit it? (To which one of my students replied: What does hit it mean?)

– She doesn’t want to die a virgin!

It is amazing to me that every year a few parents complain about the adult material we are reading in class and yet no one ever complains about Romeo and Juliet which is easily the baudiest thing I have ever taught.

I hadn’t read Romeo and Juliet since I was in the ninth grade, and this time around I am struck by the secrecy of the whole story, and how Shakespeare uses that as a vehicle for the drama and urgency. The whole play takes place in four days.

I think secrecy does make everything more dramatic, feel more urgent. When I look back at the terrible decisions I made, the dumbest stuff I did was done, at least initially, in secret. (The reason we didn’t tell anyone about the timeshare we no longer own is because we knew everyone would tell us it was stupid. Because it was stupid.) I am 28 and this is still true: If I can’t tell my mom about it, I shouldn’t be doing it.

But I think the Bible covers that too, that things in the darkness are brought in to the light. I used to think that was a warning to the wicked and I would cling to it and yell it when I was sure there were dirty dealing going on. But lately I have been seeing it as a gentle reminder to me, that it will be better if I am just honest about it. Whatever that it may be.