Houston

I have posted in a very long time--the longest since I started this blog. This mostly has to do with time, as I have none of it. Let me give you a brief update.

The school year ended in a blur with me jamming my things in a suitcase, leaving dirty dishes in the sink and whisking away to Houston, Texas to work five weeks on staff with Teach For America as a school operations manager.

I really can't explain my experience here thus far. I am ten days in, but it may as well be 100. It seems like forever and a day since I have seen my children. I constantly forget that I am in fact, a teacher. My life before this seems non-existent. Instead,I faced with the daily reality of my flaws and failings.

For those of you who know me, you realize how ridiculous it is that I am in charge of operational logistics for an entire school. I am disorganized and not detail oriented. I intensely dislike logistics and prefer to work with people. So why am I here? God wants me here. But the question I keep asking myself, as I cry on the floor of my room at nights, is why? Why in the world am I in Texas? I never wanted to be further from a place than here. Though I love the people I work with, my job is such a taxing one, for it brings me little joy. I worked 100 hours last week and will work about 90 this week, but the there have been no fruits to my labor. I still am perpetually unhappy. But what makes this so hard is the fact that I feel like God is a million miles away. I feel like I acted in obedience but was then left, abandoned. Now I know in my head this is not the truth, but right now my heart only feels pain. I can't remember a time where I have been this discouraged for so long.

So, friends, if you think of it, please pray for me.

Motions

As I write these thoughts I am curled up in my bed, wrapped in bright green cloth from India. I am trying to grasp for the write words for this post, but they continue to allude me. Part of the problem is that I am distracted by a new addition to my bedroom wall--a star quilt. It really is breathtaking. Its made up of magnificent red hues which when partnered, truly stir something in my soul. Part of me dislikes to look at it for when I see it, it awakens feelings of adventure, longing and mystery within me. It makes me want to dive into God's purpose head first. Sounds great, right? Wrong! Well, not exactly wrong, but certainly more than a bit annoying when you are choosing complacency over abundant life.

I have ever reason to be dancing with absolute adulation right now:

Since the beginning of the year, I am the only teacher to not lose a single student to transferring, dropping out, etc. In fact, I have gone from 17 to 19 students, making my class the largest in the school.

Though there are only six days left of school, my children continue to attend school and continue to work which is certainly abnormal.

My homeroom students met their big goal of 2.5 years average growth in a single year. That is over 24 months of school in just nine months. This goal is likely a Teach For America record. In addition, the whole third grade, averaged an 85% on assessments--5% higher than needed to meet TFAs standard of excellence.

I was given Little Wound's Teacher Of the Year Award tonight and given a breathtaking star quilt.

My parents came up to visit me a few days ago and met my babies, who loved them.

I am flying to Boston tomorrow to see my best friend for the first time in over a year.

Etc. Etc. Etc.

What I am trying to say is that things are going well. I know without a shadow of a doubt that God has done such incredible things through me this year. I have literally seen every single one of the prayers I prayed before I arrived, answered. So why am I so restless and unhappy?

As I stare at my star quilt and type away, I realize that the answer can be found in the lyrics to the song I a listening to over and over:

This might hurt
It’s not safe
But I know that I’ve gotta make a change
I don’t care
If I break
At least I’ll be feeling something
‘Cause just ok
Is not enough
Help me fight through the nothingness of life

I don’t wanna go through the motions
I don’t wanna go one more day
Without Your all consuming passion inside of me
I don’t wanna spend my whole life asking
What if I had given everything?
Instead of going through the motions

No regrets
Not this time
I’m gonna let my heart defeat my mind
Let Your love
Make me whole
I think I’m finally feeling something

Take me all the way
Take me all the way
Take me all the way

So there is my answer...I am just going through the motions. And I can't take it anymore.

Breathe life into my Father.

A Little Note to All Those Unbelivers

Dear World-

Tell me one more time that they can't. Say one more time that they are not smart enough, dedicated enough, rich enough, religious enough, disciplined enough, healthy enough, willing enough, worthy enough or white enough. Tell me one more time that my children are not capable of greatness beyond all expectations, work beyond reproach, wisdom beyond their years and love beyond all measure. Go ahead--tell me one more time. I dare you. But then, have a seat. get comfortable and watch us prove you wrong.

This really has been my cry of my heart lately. You see, so many people said that it simply could not be done. Though many tried to mask their words behind excuses and sugar-coated platitudes, the message was often the same: it can't be done. And they were right--if one attempts the impossible without the strength of God. But I, painfully aware of my weaknesses, put my hope in my Father and His great love for His children here in Kyle, South Dakota. And as we reach the end of the school year, only 9 short school days remaining, I am truly in awe of what He has done in Room 170.

The goal of every Teach For America teacher is to eradicate the achievement gap between rich and poor, minority and non-minority. To do this, TFA teacher's are trained to go into a classroom and do whatever they can and whatever it takes to narrow this gap. TFA is all about data, so we as TFA corps members seek to see that the children in our classrooms grow, on average, about 1.5 years in reading in a single school year. In other words, the children learning in one year what it would take to learn in one and a half years in another classroom. In subjects like mathematics or social studies, we TFA teachers seek evidence of mastery of state standards. This magic number is 80%. In other words, we push our students to achieve an 80% cumulative average on their assessments. Therefore, if the student's in our classroom leave having grown 1.5 years in reading and having earned as a class a cumulative average of 80% or higher on assessments, we have done our job and done it well.

On Friday, I sat down and calculated these numbers for our classroom. Now I do have three more students to test in reading and two more tests to be taken in SS, so for calculation purposes, I assumed that all of these students would fail miserably, presented the data in a worst-case scenario. The results nearly left me shaking. According to my data, the students in Room 170 have averaged 2.5 years of growth!!! That is a full year more than the high bar TFA has set. What is even more amazing about this is the fact that I am a third grade teacher so the learning curve is much steeper than say a 10th grade teacher who can easily grow a student several years. There have been rumors that this growth level may be record-breaking. In terms of SS, even if the remaining test-takers earn 0%, the third grade will still have earned a cumulative average of 85%!

So why I am telling you this? Well, I want you to understand that God has really answered our prayers. He has done such amazing things in Room 170 that staff members in the organization are just in awe. I think what surprises them most is that I am not a particularly impressive person and attributing such success to me seems to be a mistake--and they are exactly right. You see, it hasn't been me at all. Just as you would not give a hammer credit for building a house, nor should I, merely a tool in the hands of my Father, be praised for the work that has been done in my classroom. This year has been a love-letter from my Father to His children.

Thank you, Father. Thank you.

B

Looking for God is All the Wrong Places

One of my biggest fears is drowning. I actually am afraid of very few things, but drowning is without a doubt a very real fear for me. That is why, when I expressed my discouragement and near-panicked feelings today to a friend, I was surprised when she said "You feel like you are drowning." I was surprised not because she was wrong, but because she was right on and I wondered how I hadn't come to this conclusion myself.

You see, I have felt of late like I was drowning. There are only 16 school days left and work to be done than you can imagine. I feel as if I am missing deadlines left and right. Though no one has expressed this sentiment to me, quite the opposite in fact, I feel as if I am failing everyone--failing as a teacher, a friend, a maid of honor, a sister, a daughter, a logistics manager and most of all, as a believer. I feel as if I am slowing drowning and as I sink lower and lower, the light from the surface gets dimmer and dimmer.

Tonight, I really could not take it anymore. After receiving what I would deem as 'bad news' I threw on a pair of sweatpants, grabbed a mango I had been saving for such a time as this, hunted down my keys, grabbed a blanket and let the tears flow. I was soon in my truck just driving away from Kyle. I was exactly sure where I was going, but I knew I needed to get out of Kyle for a bit and find some place I could talk to God.

I found myself driving along the country road where my friends live. I pulled off to the side of the dirt road, a few miles outside of Kyle. I climbed into the bed of my truck, looked at the stars and started to pray.

I won't tell you exactly what I prayed as it was a conversation between me and God, but I will admit that I asked for a sign. It is something I have begging God for since I was in my early teens. A part of me is so desperate to see Jesus face to face or witness the heavens part and angels ascend and descend. As I sat on the toolbox of my truck, peering at one of the brightest moonlit nights I had ever seen, I realized that I didn't need a sign--my life was full of them. Since I was young, God has been speaking to me and showing me that He is with me. Though this has never been an audible voice, I have known, at times, that God is speaking to me without a shadow of a doubt. Tonight, after I had started driving home upon reaching the conclusion that I did not in fact need a sign, these words drifted along the edges of my heart "But God was not there...." I knew immediately where the words had come from:

"And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind and earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.

You see, I seem to expect to find God is the big things that draw the eyes of onlookers and that surprise and astonish. But tonight, I was reminded that God is in the small things. He is found in Lulu's gap-toothed smile, Rayiita and her love of dandelions, Tye leading the class, Z's passion for the earth--this is where God is found.

And even though at times I cannot see, I still believe.

B

Too tired to write a title...

The last few weeks have been very difficult ones for me, for a variety of reasons. This week hasn't started off much better as I came into the week with three hours of sleep.

I am not a person that is found of drama, believe it or not. I especially dislike interpersonal drama and heartily attempt to avoid it. However, it seems of late I am just surrounded by people by relationships where there is strife and struggle, discontent and disdain. What horrifies me even more is the fact that I feel that I have allowed myself to be drawn into the fray at times. I when I pause right now and consider the state of my life and my soul, I really can't say that I am pleased.

I found today that it is very likely that my classroom may be exempt from "significant gains" this year. Sig-gains are the ultimate quantifiable goal of every TFA corps member. A teacher achieves sig-gains if his or her students grow 1.5 years in Reading or the students earn a cumulative 80% average or higher on their exams. My class will very easily meet both goals. They challenges remains in the fact that because of a lack of communication I may be missing a necessary component that 'proves' that my children have in fact mastered Social Studies material. In other words, my children may be exempt from recognition because of a technicality, not because they did not truly achieve sig-gains.

It is difficult to express how frustrated I am by all of this. But as I sit here, wondering if I all I have worked has come to nothing, I get a more clear perspective. You see, who cares? I know that my children have learned this year. I know that they have grown this year. I know that they can rest in the confidence that I love them. No technicality can nullify this.

But all the same, I am really fighting feelings of discouragement and inadequacy. I feel like all I can see right now is my weakness--not His strength. I ask that you would pray for me and for my children.

B

Lost Child

The day started out rough. I awoke nearly an hour later then I attended, which resulted in me arriving much later to my classroom than I prefer. Things only got worse when I realized I forgot to put coconut oil in my hair--a grave error when I wear it down. By the time school started, I truly looked like I had put my finger in a socket. To make matters worse, I couldn't put it up because I had no hair ties. I eventually resorted to a rubber band that I took out of my supply drawer. It was far to small and tore my hair. I kid you not, I looked truly atrocious. The continued along this path of bedlam. Scheduling was once again thrown off as we had an assembly in the afternoon--right in the middle of our block schedule. At the end of the assembly the children were given an extraordinary amount of ice cream. Because organization is not one of LWSs strong points, crowds of dozens and dozens of children were all clamoring for their treat. As a result, I sent several of my children to my classroom with my aide as I waited for a few stragglers to receive their cone. Bad plan...

Shortly after I returned to the classroom I found my students dutily sitting in their chairs, enjoying their ice cream. I praised them for their patience and then proceeded to instruct them to silently read their library books. Now, one must understand that my classroom is very structured, but their is an amount of freedom. They don't have to ask me to go to the bathroom or take a drink of water. They just grab the pass and go, as long it is during a time when I am not instructing the whole group. Anyway, everything seemed to be proceeding as normal until my aid approached me with a look of concern on his face. He said, "Maddy said that Johnny left." Now I knew that Johnny was having a rough day. He had been very moody because he was supposed to get to spend some time with his dad, but his mom was not going to return in time from Rapid to take him. Therefore, when I realized he was indeed gone, I asked my aide to go and check the boy's bathroom, though the pass was still hanging on the wall. He came back soon after, shrugging in the negative. Concerned, I asked him to go check the nurse and his mom's office in the high school. Meanwhile, I tried to fight back the feelings of genuine fear that welled up within me. I didn't want to alarm my children, so I waited for my aide to come back with news. It wasn't good--Johnny appeared to be gone. At this point, I knew I was going to have to get the class involved. I called Maddy over and asked her if she had actually seen Johnny leave. She said that she hadn't, her big soulful eyes gazing up at me. I then asked the entire class if anyone had seen him. All of their heads began to shake vigorously. One little girl mentioned that she hadn't seen him in the crowd getting ice cream. Several others contributed their theories. Meanwhile, my head was spinning and my heart thumping.

I turned to my aide, concern nearly choking me. I was about to order him to report that a child was missing to the principal and security when I heard a rustling sound behind me. To my utter astonishment, Johnny crawled out from underneath the row of computers and a large fan, his book held securely in his hand.

"Johnny! Where have you been??!! Have you been there this whole time?"

He merely grinned. It was then I heard the laughter...too much laughter. Every child in the room was nearly rolling on the carpet with laughter. My aide was particularly amused. It took me a few more minutes to realized that I was a victim of a brutal prank by the children of Room 170 and my 'trustworthy' aide! I later learned that my principal was even involved--she was prepared to act horrified when I reported the incident!

Needless to say, I wanted to smack someone! I told my children I was going to tell my mamma that they were picking on me...

B

Let Me Hold You

I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but God teaches me things about Himself through my interactions with my children. A few days ago, He taught me something powerful that has really got me thinking.

There is a student in my class who is such a sweetheart. She is funny and sometimes goofy, but she is one of my most helpful and faithful students. I appreciate her so much. Well, last week our class started a poetry unit. The students had to write a poem that followed the format: ABCB. For example:


Welcome to Lakota Rapha
The best blog you will ever see
Learn all about the Lakota
And more than you wanted about me.

Most of the students really enjoyed this challenge. However, Luta was not one of them. She was extremely frustrated. I tried over and over again to offer her support, which she usually requests herself. She shunned all of my attempts. When she had written nothing after 45 minutes and the end of writing, I told her she would have to come in during writing. As she returned to her desk, she angrily tossed her notebook onto the table. At that point, I knew for certain we had a problem. I pulled her into the hallway and asked what was going on. She looked so aggressive, her arms crossed and her stance defiant. She wouldn't make eye contact with me and grunted replies to my inquiries. This sort of attitude has only happened twice before with Luta and both times her behavior masked the inner grief born of her young uncle's death. Both of those times she quickly dissolved into tears and was eager for the comfort I offered her. But this time was different. She was defiant, despite her tears. She wouldn't let me get to close to her. I finally told her that she didn't have to tell me what was wrong, but she did have to treat me and her classmates with respect and that I would not tolerate attitude in our classroom. Though I was not satisfied, I told her to wash her face in the bathroom and return to class.

About ten minutes passed and Luta didn't return. However, I nearly tripped over her when I stepped out of the classroom and found her sitting beside the door, tears streaming down her precious little face. I immediately sat down beside her and began to speak words of love over her, begging her to share her burden with me. My heart was just breaking for her as she was literally shaking from her sobbing. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she clung to them tightly, almost as if they could shield her from the pain of this world. And then I reached over to wrap my arms around my girl. To my absolute shock, she immediately dodged my embrace and drew herself even closer to the corner in which she sat.

At that moment, this thought popped into my head, crystal clear: This is how I often react when God tries to wrap His arms around me.

My heart just broke for Luta and I just couldn't understand why she chose not to receive my love and let me help heal her heart and carry her hurts. And that is exactly what it was--a conscious choice to draw away. And you know, I think God allowed this situation with Luta last week to teach me something about my relationship with Him. How often do I react to God's correction or life's difficulties with a spirit of defiance and rebellion. And even when I sense Abba Father extending His love once more, longing to heal my hurts and draw me close to His heart, how often do I pull away and draw my cloak of pain closer around my shoulders?

I have said it before and I will say it again: It amazes me how God is showing me how He cares through my love for my children. Throughout the day I can sense Him telling me that when I react this way or love a child this way, He feels the same way about me--to an even greater degree! It is all pretty cool...

B