Dear Luke

It's been 5 months since I got the news about Luke. In those 5 months, memories of Luke have come up out of the blue often - little things that I hadn't thought of, or random pictures of Luke in my college photo albums. It may not seem like we were close, since we hadn't talked since my May 2014 graduation. But I'd like to believe he was one of those friends that I'd be able to pick up with like nothing was different the next time we were able to see each other. Now, I'll have to wait until heaven.
In January, I made a goal to write a short note to a list of people. Luke was on that list. I've been awful at completing that goal for most people on that list, but I've felt a tug for about a month to write down everything I hold as dear memories for Luke, the ones that keep floating around in my head. It's way longer than any letter I'd actually write to him, because I would have assumed I could talk about these memories in person with him later and not all at once, and more in depth, but I wanted to offer my perspective of this brother who had an influence in so many areas of my college life.

One of my favorite pictures from Kenya... photo credit: Koly Swistak

Hey Luke,
I was talking to a friend the other day about the trip to Kenya, and how somehow people I didn't know well at all became like family. Then I pointed out that I did know some of the people going, at least a little... and then it hit me that you were the one I knew best, of everyone. You were the one who for 2.5 years prior to Kenya had been part of almost every area of my college life - theater, jobs, classes, even dorm life (you lived below us, and sophomore year I visited your room a few different times).

Some of my favorite memories of you were in the black box theater. The quiet, easy-going guy people saw around campus came alive on that stage. I can remember being on stage crew for Midsummer Night's Dream, and first being impressed that you were one of only a couple freshmen that had a significant speaking role in the show, and second loving the different facial expressions you brought to the character. Even though I saw the show around 10 times by the time we closed, your frustration as Moonshine during the play-within-a-play cracked me up almost every time. My favorite role you played during a show that I was involved in was Cornelius, during The Matchmaker. I can just imagine you chuckling and going "really?" if I were to tell you that. It was so long ago, and you were great in other roles too. But I got to see you as Cornelius for months, almost every day, and it was one of those times that I thought "who is this kid?" The quiet, laid back guy I knew from class and work was suddenly a confident, goofy character (remember that running scene?) - and he was a confident, fun, conversational guy outside of that role too. It was in the theater that I got to know much more about you, Luke, which opened the door to start to build a friendship in other areas where we were connected. I can't think of the plays I was able to be a part of without also seeing you there.

You actually surprised me often, Luke. I can remember your first Trollstock performance on guitar... my jaw dropped when you started to play. Seriously. Another "who is this kid?" moment - totally different than my previous perceptions. And I know you'd totally wave it off about this next one, but you surprised me in English classes too. You didn't always say a lot, but when you did volunteer some input, it was always something worth listening to and thoughtful. I know there were times that you were called on and totally grasped for straws and made something up - we all did, we're English majors - but, honestly, Luke, you were more awesome than you gave yourself credit for during class. There are so many other crazy, unique, only-our-class-could-understand memories, but I'll end by saying this: You were an insightful writer and thinker, and had some thoughts worth sharing. I wish I'd asked you for more of those thoughts more often.

I appreciated how much you enjoyed yourself, no matter what you were doing. I can't recall an actual angry Luke or a lot of complaints. When I got the job at the Trinity dining hall, I can remember dreading the idea of going back to being a dishwasher, a high school job I'd hated for a few reasons. But "dirty side" was your preference, and by being the man who was always willing to jump in there you relieved me (and I'm sure others who didn't want to be in that position). More than just doing what few wanted to, you enjoyed yourself, in that position and in any others you were assigned to. You were smiling, you were making it fun, and you were bringing smiles to others of us who interacted with you during a shift. The caf wasn't always the most glamorous job, but I enjoyed working a shift with you for the positive atmosphere you helped to build.

Then came Kenya. I started with some of my favorite moments with you, and I'll end with more. It would take more than one paragraph to talk about the memories from that semester, and most of them have been well documented, re-told, and re-lived over the past 3 years. But the one memory I hadn't thought about until last March, and the one that I can't get out of my head since, is one that just you and I shared. It was day 1 of classes, and we had an English class together. Some of the details are fuzzy about that afternoon, but I remember we were the only ones there at the start time. We talked a little, and then you went outside where it was cooler. I joined you because a) we were friends and b) I would be bored alone, and we just chatted, sitting in the hallway, as time ticked away(we waited 50 minutes before leaving; eventually we learned that the class was canceled all together. Oh, Daystar). At one point, you insisted we take a picture together, and I remember the grins lighting up our faces because "welcome to Kenya." How I desperately wish I knew where that picture ended up. 

                               

We'd built a friendship for 3 years through theater, work, and classes, but it was in Kenya that I felt like I finally saw all of who Luke was, and you are an amazing guy. You're humble, sweet, fun, easy-going, and make light of every situation. You're willing to take any adventure that comes your way (like climbing Mt. Kenya, or riding ostriches, or all the other incredible Kenyan experiences) and have as much fun as you can doing it.

I don't know that I've actually come to terms with the fact I can't reminisce about all of this with you on this side of heaven. Part of me still thinks that if we were able to pull together that Kenya family reunion we talk about, you'd be there, and you'd come over with that infectious smile and ask to hear all about what's been going on since graduation. I don't know when I'll fully accept the reality that it won't happen as my mind sees it. I miss you, Luke; that may seem crazy because when you were still alive, we hadn't talked in a year and a half, but it's still true. I wish I could see that smile again, or the way you flipped your hair back; I wish I could see you riding down the sidewalk, but get off to walk with me and have a conversation as we both headed the same place (that was usually the theater); I wish I could hear you strumming your guitar again under the stars. College wouldn't have been the same experience without you, and you will remain ingrained in so many happy memories.

Missing you,
Becca

Things I've Taken For Granted... Thanks Mom and Dad

Sorry for the silence, any loyal blog readers. I guess second year teaching didn't have much to blog about... mostly I just got out of the habit.

If you want to hear about the school year, ask me at the end of June... I'm too frazzled to be reflective on the school year just yet.

This blog, though, is about 2 very important people who are celebrating their 30th anniversary June 7th. I've planned to write this blog for about a month, when this sense of gratitude and recognition washed over me, and am now sitting down to write it because it's an appropriate time in which to celebrate my parents.

For the past 25 years, my parents have given everything they have to raising and providing for two kids, giving us far more than we ever actually needed. I can remember being bummed out, especially during those awful times my moods swung downward, that we didn't get everything some of my friends did. As a typical, greedy human kid I saw other people had newer stuff, bigger houses,and more vacations than me in my childhood. I'd have to ask my parents, but I don't recall making a huge deal out of it most of the time; I was happy with the food we ate, the house we had, the things we played with, and the presents I received (except for that one video tape of me throwing a fit over receiving "just more clothes"... ironic, since that's what I wish for and splurge on most often now). It's taken growing up and experiencing life on my own budget to think about exactly how much we truly had - far more than they needed to give.

The first that stands out is sports and extracurriculars. Nick and I never got turned down for a desire in this area (although Nick may count not getting a motor bike at age 7 when he was obsessed with the concept). Gymnastics, soccer, hockey, basketball, volleyball, baseball, football, band, theatre... many of these weren't cheap when you consider the league fees, footwear, buying equipment (think of how much equipment is needed to play hockey or football, plus the fact that they bought my first clarinet and were paying for any reeds - single and then double - that I needed), and multiple camps associated with these activities. But if we wanted to do it, and we showed commitment to it (my family rarely quit at anything), we had everything we needed.

Then there were the vacations and trips. As a kid, this one stood out most as what fell under "things I didn't get." But hello, younger self - oh yes you did. We may not go to the Gulf for spring break or Colorado during Christmas, but we did travel. During elementary school, we always took some part of spring break to go somewhere - Kalamazoo, Indiana, Ohio, Frankenmuth, and others. That means hotels, meals, museums, and entertainment to pay for. Every summer we went camping; our trailer may have been paid for before I was aware of it, but its maintenance could be costly and campground fees aren't something to scoff at. We went to Disney when I was in 8th grade, a trip we'd dreamed about. Plus, what I've been able to do in my last ten years have more than covered any complaints of my elementary self. Both Nick and I went to NYC on music tour, and though we had fundraising schemes, I know, in my case, my parents made up the difference. My senior year we went to San Diego and they sent me to Washington DC for close-up, which must have been costly. Then there was Kenya; sure, it didn't technically cost more as a semester than a semester in Palos Heights, but there were plenty of additional costs - new luggage, some new clothes, and providing me with money to spend there on souvenirs and some extra meals (particularly ice cream chocolate, and trips to Lukenya Pool). Then, they brought me on a trip around the eastern part of the U.S. to tour historic landmarks to celebrate my college graduation. Even on trips that I took with others (Hawaii, Cancun), Mom and Dad were always willing to give me some spending money for the trip.

Kenya brings up an incredibly costly venture from 2010-2014 that once again my parents provided for without questioning me... college. From the get-go, either college I chose was going to be expensive. But my heart was almost instantly set on Trinity - a private college out of state, where I'd definitely have to pay room and board. Though at that age I definitely understood how much money it was costing, my parents also had their hearts set on sending me there. Through the years I was expected to pay for college... but my parents were open to helping me whenever I needed them (which was frequent because working at Russ' in high school and babysitting didn't give me too much savings going into college, and dining hall and writing center jobs didn't raise my finances exponentially either). I may be paying the loans now, but that doesn't bother me with how much money my parents paid for all those years of top education for me and my brother.

As I've taken on financial responsibility with an actual full-time job, apartment, and bills, I've also recognized how many other things were handed to me that I took for granted for over 20 years. Knowing the budget for SCS, and the tuition the parents pay, I am humbled that my parents paid for Christian education for 2 kids. I knew how much money my mom often spent at the grocery store but shrugged it off too often... now I understand what feeding a family, especially a picky family, must have been like. We had cable. We had a house to pay a mortgage on and heat during winter. We had two cars... then three... then four... that they paid insurance for and registration fees (and would help the third and fourth drivers with gas money too). Though health insurance helped with doctors visits, dentist, ortho, and eye doctor, there were still co-pays to pay and special services to provide for (I had several surgeries, we all need glasses or contacts, and all of us went through PT at some point in our lives), not to mention the money taken out of a hard-earned pay check to pay for insurance coverage.

I've focused on how my parents provided financially/physically for us, since that's what 24-year-old me has realized over the past year more and more. And I know I haven't even hit all the areas where they were working hard to be sure we had more than we needed. But there was so much more than money that they provided during those years...
In all those activities my brother and I were involved in, it was their physical and emotional support that mattered the most. It was a rare occasion that Mom and Dad missed a game or performance.

They helped shape us both into well-rounded individuals by encouraging such a wide range of interests and passions.

In providing Christian education, they also educated us at home about God's role in our lives, and our role in His kingdom, both by word and deed. Their mandatory involvement in church events and discussions about our faith are why I value church involvement and learning in that community. Showing us that we should show God in whatever situation we're in - not just in a bubble - have shaped Nick and I into people who try to live with integrity.

In taking family vacations, we made memories that we still reminisce about and revisit today. It's the consistent presence with one another, in laughter and tears and memories, that makes living in another state difficult for me.

When I did move off to college, and then to another state, my parents continued to visit; to watch my shows, to cheer on the sports teams, to assemble apple pies, and to just spend quality time doing whatever I chose to do, as long as we were together.

I still enjoy the comforts of life, but I've also realized the importance of saving, being responsible, and planning ahead from them.

They've been a model of Christian living, marriage, parenthood, and all around decent, modest living for me.

They are in Colorado this week, celebrating their 30 years together. And they certainly deserve to spend this time to themselves after 25 years of sacrifice for us.

THANK YOU, MOM AND DAD. I CANNOT SAY IT ENOUGH.

What it's like in Wisconsin

It's crazy to think I've been in Wisconsin not even one full year. And for all the things residents and outsiders told me, maybe to make me concerned, I'm typing this outside on a beautiful sunny day, and gave been contemplating making the 13 minute walk to the lake, so it's really a pretty magnificent place. However, as Kyle and I continue to find ways to absorb ourselves in our new community, we have noticed some things in Wisconsin that seem a little different than where each of us grew up. (Note - I do not intend to offend any Wisconsin natives, and apologize if I do).

1. Hired dog walkers - This is one Kyle seems to notice more than I, but there are people who walk dogs for pay around here. I mean, we've known that was a thing, but have never seen it done so frequently. And Kyle is astounded (he tells me pretty much every time we see one "I've never seen a dog walker until I moved to Wisconsin.")
2. Fog - Okay, yes, we've seen fog before. I even had a fog delay or two in my school years. But the thing is, being so close to the lake, it's a consistent weather pattern. In fact, we watched fog roll in on a beautiful, sunny day just as we sat by the lake. It enveloped the lighthouse, then us, then moved on. I've joked that it seems during everyone's first visit, it's foggy; myself, my parents, my in-laws, my friends... All experienced fog no matter how short their stay was. Fog is a sudden thing and it happens more frequently than the places we've lived.
3. Lack of snow... And snow days - This I knew before moving here. Michiganders, you get the lake effect coming across the lake. Being by the east side of the lake does not receive lake effect very much. Not to say we didn't get snow this year - we did - but it's mostly just cold with a few inches of snow. Which leads to little to no school off for snow days. This year, despite windchill temps in the -20s for several days, we did not have one day off of school. As I've said, I was probably more anxious about it than the kids because I've pretty much always had least two days off during the winter for snow. When I told my friends later in the year how my school had 7 snow days built in for cushion, they were shocked; when I told the kids I'd had 6 snow days in 7 weeks last January, they were floored. They can't imagine that much time off of school. Welcome to Wisconsin, Becca.
4. DMV vs. Secretary of State - This may be just a Jenison/Grandville area thing, but where do you go when you're taking your driver's test, or renew your license, or get new plates? The S.O.S. office. But not in Sheboygan. All of that is taken care of at the DMV office, not the S.O.S.
5. "The city" - I know that Kyle and I would differ on this point, because he lived in the boonies and anything with several traffic signals and more than a handful of buildings would be considered city to him, but this is my blog so I'm writing about it. Anyone who knows where my parents live in Michigan... is that considered living "in the city"? Because I sure don't think so. To me, living in the city means living in and around the downtown area of GR, like exits 73 and above off of I-196. To me, living "in the city" means you're near a large downtown area. Well, the other day a friend of mine who lives about 3 blocks north of me was saying how she loves that she lives in the city. I was a little stunned, and the conversation continued around the table of others who live in the same neighborhood mentioning that they like living in the city. So apparently I am a city-dweller in my upper level apartment on the semi-quiet streets or this neighborhood where it's safe to walk pretty much everywhere. This is also due to the fact that the stretch of 8th St. just south of here is considered "downtown" so I guess I do live "in the city" but not near what my idea of city living is like.
6. Alcohol is not taboo - The way I grew up, alcohol wasn't considered shunned by any means, but being a camp counselor and then a teacher-in-training it was considered wise not to be liberal about it or be caught buying it where campers/students could be because it'd be a bad influence. You just didn't talk about it that much unless with family or close friends (and Kyle definitely grew up on an even more conservative side of this issue... his viewpoints bordered on alcohol is taboo). You don't drink it at school gatherings or church functions. However, the first time I went to another person's house in Sheboygan I was offered alcohol, and the trend continued at others' houses, whether we were there with teachers or for a church gathering. Now, my friends here are not drunks nor do they drink excessively. It just seems more easily accepted that if you're legal, no one will judge you for drinking. To the point that parents also do it at some school-sponsored events (with their own money), which was probably the most surprising of all to me because I was trained that chaperones/adults/teachers should probably refrain during those kind of functions. Again, it's not like I'm living with drunks here, but just in an area that is more open to the idea that legal-aged drinkers can relax with a good beer/wine (really, Milwaukee's baseball team has a stadium named "Miller Park" and the team is the Brewers, so...).

For all its surprises and differences, we love this place. Kyle is convinced we will one day buy a house on the lake and since that's always been a dream I'd be happy to have it happen. In the meantime, we enjoy our 12 minute walk to the lake (in less time we can see the lake, but aren't necessarily at the lake front), or a three minute drive to the beach itself (which only really differs from Michigan beaches in water temperature). I enjoy that fact that I can get to wherever I truly need to go by walking even when Kyle has the car. We enjoy our neighbors (and are getting new ones soon, who supposedly are around our age!), we enjoy our church and are working to get more involved there (I'm now on education committee and praise team, Kyle is getting involved in the youth group), and the community is so friendly, kind-hearted, and safe - from the insurance company to the grocers to the internet technician to the appliance maintenance guys. There are adjustments we've made, but ultimately we live in the area we love, still have access to the communities we've grown up in, and are in the right place for this time in our lives. We'll see what God does next.

Thank Yous of June 2015

Dear 8th grade class,

    I write this letter to say thank you to you, my first homeroom class. I’ve evaluated you on your speeches and writing, and I guess now it’s my turn.

    First of all, you should know you have a special piece of my history. According to some other teachers and professors I’ve had, the “first” always holds a special place in a leader’s memory. I may be teaching for another 30 years (or not… we’ll see what God has in store), but you - the 14 people of this class - will be remembered. I may not recognize your faces by the time you’re 23, because you will all change. But each of your names will strike a chord. Oh yeah! My first 8th grade class! So know that, if you don’t hear anything else - know that you are special to me.

    In addition, you have made me feel special, and for that acceptance I thank you. Let’s be honest, I really didn’t know what was going on about one-third of the time. I hadn’t been here to know the precedent - this is how it was done before, or that I as the 8th grade homeroom was supposed to take on certain class activity responsibilities, or many other things that I as a teacher was expected to know but didn’t because I didn’t have the background. But many of you did. I can recall occasions where I turned to one of you to ask or confirm something about how something was done at school. I can recall even more where one of you asked me a question, received an “uhhh… I don’t know” and instead of getting frustrated with me, just shrugged it off and either waited until I found the answer or found a source who did. For that grace shown me, thank you. Thank you too for pulling me into your community. Honestly, sometimes it was fun to just “hang out” with you and just have fun. I was so overwhelmed and blessed by how much you and your families showed love to Mr. Koning and I  by throwing us a wedding shower; thank you for the love you showed through the gifts you gave there but even more just the thought you put into the party. In so many ways, I have felt accepted and cared about by you, my 8th grade students.

    Lastly, I just want you all to know what a joy it has been teaching you. You make me laugh daily. I have enjoyed playing with you on the blacktop, cheering you on in sports, feeling pride swell up as you nailed your speech fest pieces, or just soaking in the sound of some of the amazing music you made at music fest. I have been pleased with the questions you’ve asked, and the ways that you’ve pushed yourselves, and the ways I’ve seen you grow. I have been so incredibly impressed by the servant leadership I saw from each of you at the fundraising events. To know that I am attempting to guide and teach some of the next generation - some of the people God has really big, amazing plans for - is a pleasure for me.

Thank you for your unique quirks and for the dozens of ways you’ve brought a smile to my face. Thank you for this school year, SCS class of 2015.

Your teacher,

Mrs. Koning

Dear 7th grade class,

   

    I write this as a thank you. Let’s hope I don’t blow it grammatically because then I may never hear the end of it.

    The first phrase that I think of for my year with you is “whoa, what a ride.” Let’s be real - we saw a lot of each other this year. There was three to four class periods a day, plus I saw some of you in b1 or study place or exploratories. One of the major benefits for me was how well I got to know you all, though. As compared to the other classes, I know a lot more about your interests, your opinions, and the ways you learn than the other two grades. And I love knowing my students besides just faces and names. I like hearing your stories - in the right time and place. So though you have spent a lot of time in room one, I appreciate what I learned - not just the material, but about you as a class.

    I learned a lot about myself and teaching from you, too. I love you all appropriately, but I’m going to be honest - there were some challenges we encountered in this classroom. But you know what? That was okay. It helped me grow as a teacher. We learned from each other - I got a feel for you as a class, you got a feel for me, I learned how to tackle challenges in the classroom, and you learned what to expect from me and how to reach for the bar that is set for you. So no, I don’t leave this year with bad blood between you and I (cue David or Eyob and the T-Swift references?). I care about you as image-bearers of God and I trust in His plans for you. So thank you for helping me to grow.

    Another encouragement I have for each of you is the growth I’ve seen in a year, and I want to thank you for your participation in this classroom. I’ve seen you develop more as writers, able to articulate your thoughts and opinions in well-formed sentences and paragraphs. I’ve seen creativity from each of you, through skits, projects, stories, and reading connections. I have watched you become readers who pay close attention to the text and work to pick out what is important and relevant to know. I have appreciated the input in small-group or class discussions; many of you have ideas I hadn’t even thought of myself. Your relevant questions pushed my thinking further, and pushed me to look into more material. Don’t lose that curiosity. Questions are good. You all are intelligent historians, Bible scholars, readers, and writers from what I’ve seen happen in this classroom. So thank you for your work; thank you for participating; thank you for expanding my mind.

    I would like to close saying thank you for this year - for walking together through its challenges, its funny moments, and its work. Thank you for putting a smile on my face with your antics, your HSM references, and your stories. I look forward to what next year - 8th grade! - will bring. Until then, continue to ask questions in order to learn, keep reading in order to learn more about this world and the different viewpoints in it, and keep writing in all the forms you are able to (you are writing when you’re texting or on Facebook!). But as you do, remember who you’re representing - not me, but Christ. Do good - and do well - this summer.

Your teacher,

Mrs. Koning

Dear 6th grade class,

    I wanted to write you, as a class, a thank you letter at the end of this year. There are many things to say, but I’ll try to keep this condensed.

First, I appreciate you for the spunk and personality that this class carries. You all have very unique, very distinct personalities. And though some of the things you do make me roll my eyes, there’s usually a smile hiding close behind. Your class makes me laugh. You are special to me, each of you; even through the frustrations, I do care about you all.

Second, thank you each for your willingness and eagerness. There was hardly ever a time I didn’t have enough volunteers - for anything. You each were always eager to help, eager to share your writing, eager to come to the board. You also were open to suggestion and advice. As a teacher, having students who will do what you ask or suggest is valuable. Thank you for asking questions, and then taking my answer into consideration. I have seen you grow as writers this year, and I am so proud. As we go on together as a class and teacher, don’t lose that curiosity or that enthusiasm. And I as your teacher will do my best to give you guidance, answers, and even admit when I’m not sure.

Finally, I am eager to see what next year will bring. Did you know you’re the first class that I will see go through all of middle school and graduate? That’s a pretty special position; no matter how much longer I teach, you will always be the only class to hold that place. And as you enter seventh grade, I anticipate getting to know you each even better. We only saw each other in class three times a week this year; next year, the amount of time spent in my classroom is raised significantly. You can take that as a good or bad thing; I take it as good. I look forward to seeing you develop as students, learners, historians, writers, and readers. I look forward to getting to watch you grow and mature. I look forward to getting to know you and your stories even more. But until then, enjoy your summer. Continue to be curious about life, keep reading in order to learn more about this world and the different viewpoints in it, and keep writing in all the forms you are able to (you are writing when you’re texting or on Facebook!). But as you do, remember who you’re representing - not me, but Christ.

Thank you for the smiles and the ways you’ve helped me grow. May you continue to grow - as a person and as a child of God.

Your teacher,

Mrs. Koning

My Day in the Brown Room

According to the guest choir director for the night, it's been demonstrated that the midwest has some of the best music education around. I'm not going to disagree with that after a) having been involved myself and b) what I saw going on all of Friday.

Friday, May 1st, was the region-wide music festival. Remember speech and spelling fest from October? In many ways, the same, but in many others, not the same. 

For those from the Calvin Christian tradition, think solo and ensemble + band/choir festival + a bit of honors band with Calvin College. 

Starting at 8 am, the rooms all around Brookfield Christian (near Milwaukee) that are filled with the sounds of solo or ensemble music - sung, strummed, drummed, bowed, keyed, or blown. I was in the brown room for nearly the entire portion of this part of the festival. Sounds bad because it's "brown"? Really, the color didn't reflect the music because I got to listen to violin solos and piano all afternoon. Not too bad of a deal, in my opinion. And those pianists! I've also played my whole life, but goodness sakes! There were some pieces they played I'm not sure I could unless I practiced for a year. And they memorized them!

In the afternoon, the whole group stuff starts. Each of the schools represented (I believe there were 7?) has their band play for a judge who scores them but also does a bit of coaching. Same goes for each school and their choir. Shortly after, each band and choir load a bus and head to the Lutheran high school where they will have an evening concert. Here, each band joins together to play the same pieces they've all been practicing separately and rehearse for an hour with the judge-turned-director. Then another hour for a all-school choir rehearsal with judge-turned-director. Then they have the concert for any parents who show up, where the full group plays and sings as well as the (supposed) best solo/ensemble pieces from the day are played. 

Though some of the other teachers don't have the highest opinion of this day, because it is so very long (we left to return home a little before 8:30 pm), my enthusiasm for the day was not dimmed. Sure, I agree it's a long day after going through it once, but there was wonderful music played by talented musicians. And I was one of these kids once upon a not-so-long-ago time. And those were some of the memories that were flooding my consciousness as I sat in the back of the room, listening to piano piece after piano piece.

The middle school clarinet solo and ensemble pieces that I honestly don't remember much about, except flashes of being in the room playing and listening to advice.

The on-top-of-the-world, proud feeling I got each time our band received a one at band festival (which was every single year, thank you very much). And the pride emanating from Looman each time he lowered his baton after pieces.

The switch to bassoon in 8th grade, a story I told at least 3 times that day to curious parents or colleagues while we sat in on the band rehearsal. 

Snippets of memory from playing my first bassoon solo at state solo and ensemble. The nerves, the room, the judge looking at me disapprovingly. Probably from emotional trauma, I don't remember the comments she made, just that she was brutal and my parents were aghast and I barely got out of the room before crying. And Looman about ready to attack the woman for it.

Which thinking about that made me nearly tear up a couple times mid-daydream. I know I bring him up quite a bit, but the man had a lasting impact, some of my favorite memories from my teenage years. That man was fiercely loyal to us, his band students. He pushed us, he stretched us, and he molded us without ever making us feel we weren't good enough. And then we proved just how awesome we could be - how awesome his teaching had made us. If anyone wanted to bring us down, he was there to cushion the criticism; to tell us the truth, but tell it in love. And if the judge's comments were bogus... well, he sometimes said something about that too.

That night at my students' music festival, part of me felt a prick of that concern and loyalty for my students. Not a one got picked to play onstage, though some were runners-up and many others had strong pieces (from what I heard at school). And I found myself thinking "wait a minute... I want to see those judge's sheets. I want to figure out how my students weren't picked!" Now, I wasn't in the rooms and I wasn't about to go argue about it (there was one director/grandfather who did defend the school during the selection). But it just made me think about the great teachers out there. It's what teachers do, really. They won't lie to the kid if they weren't the best, and applaud the efforts of those who performed well from other schools, but we will do what is in our power to get our kids the recognition and celebration they deserve. We will try to get them to be the ones onstage, because we do feel proud of what our kids can do. That's why teachers too often fall into calling them "my kids" because that is what they start to become.

That being said, in a few weeks, near the end of the year, there is an awards night. Here, our kids will be applauded for all their work - the blue ribbons they won at speech/spelling and music fest, the competitions they won in sports. I'm not one to say every kids needs a trophy and that our kids can't lose, as is starting to be the trend. Losing is healthy. Heck, I never got a trophy for anything and I turned out all right. But I am glad that those who did deserve a win, did deserve a ribbon, are getting that recognition. 

Though I've jumped all over the place, here's one final thought...

Music is my favorite mode of worship. Even if you're singing ragtime or playing something by Chicago, God has blessed some people with really awesome gifts. As much as I can, I try to squash my students' complaining about band or choir. Sure, some of them are forced to do this and so their hearts aren't in it. And it's middle school, so complaining is a default. But honestly, music is a precious gift, a cherished talent, and I try to remind my kids that what they are doing is bringing a sweet sound to God's ears. And I'd give anything to be in their place again, with time carved out of my day especially for music.

Music education does rock, and I've been blessed to continue to be a part of it from the outside. 

A Teacher's Influence

When people have asked recently how everything is going, it's kind of hard to do anything but shrug and say it's kind of become routine. Every morning I wake up, get ready, and teach Bible, literature, language arts, and social studies, in that order. I ask a question in class and most of the same kids raise their hands. I have to lend a Bible to the same kid every day, because he hardly every remembers the perfectly good one he has, and remind the same kids how they're supposed to sit in their chairs - facing forward, legs under the desk, heads up, and feet off the desk top (yes, I have to remind middle schoolers of these things... because nearly every day the same culprits break at least one of these guidelines). I hear complaints and nasty remarks, and continually try to instill the ideas of positive and Godly attitudes, or learning to sometimes just not say anything, which are only met by argument or eye rolls (I'm sorry, parents, for the times I did this to you. I don't recall ever doing this to my teachers because I knew better than that).

Often when I have to tell the same kid to keep his feet off the desk, or listen to the same kid make rude remarks, or when I ask a review question on what we studied just yesterday and only one hand goes up in the air, I start to wonder Does what I say and teach ever sink in?

In one of my reading workshop book groups, we're reading the memoir Tuesdays with Morrie. In the last section we read, there was a quote from Henry Adams: "A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops."

A colleague echoed a similar idea when I was talking to her about a problem I'd had with a student in study place; she said something to the effect of "with him, we won't be able to see the fruits of our labor always; those will come later when he's out of middle school. But we're laying the ground work."

And both Adams and my colleague have a point - a point I needed to hear in this hum drum routine when I sometimes wonder if anything I say is making a difference.

It is.

Even if I feel like I'm hammering the same point now, that could eventually be something that is a small voice in that student's head so that he or she actually recalls it and takes action on his or her own. The lesson I teach today might be sinking in more than I realize simply because the student doesn't wish to share - or even realize it himself or herself. And more so, as I teach these kids life lessons or right behavior, eventually they will remember that too, and that will affect people that they go to school with, people they work with, and eventually some of them will teach their children the same lessons. And the cycle continues.

"... he can never tell where his influence stops."

There is progress already, moments that show what I say does stick in their minds. Many kids are interested in this Civil War unit and some students who struggle and don't always participate are the ones coming up with the answers and recalling the points I taught previously. For those incorrect desk sitters, some of them have reduced the frequency for needed reminders. Some attitudes have improved (or at least they're less vocal about it). Looking back on the beginning of the year until now, I do see progress in writing and reading ability. And the cool thing is that my influence won't end when these kids leave. Sure, they won't remember it's something that I said or did maybe, but somehow something I say or do in the one to three years I have these students will stick with them. And that could affect their careers, their families, and maybe, for some of them, their students.

I know it happened with my teachers.

Ah awkward middle school me... But this woman was the first to light an interest in teaching for me.

Mr. VanStee... 10th grade History and one of the most influential teachers for me. Plus he was our graduation speaker, so one of the last lessons I learned in high school came from him.

Not even going to get into how this man influenced me. Miss you, J-Lo.

Built nearly all of my literature knowledge in college

It's because of this man, and giving me a shot as stage manager, that I'm now teaching some drama. And he taught me that teachers can also be friends.

February... Oh February...

As a first year teacher, there are many lessons I am learning along the way and new experiences I am having. One of those, at least this year, is that though February is the shortest month on the calendar, it sure seems like the longest month while teaching.

Goodness sakes alive, I made it.

You see, we've removed ourselves from the magic of the holiday season. February is just another month of the bitter, brutal cold that we got sick of as of January. Nothing new is happening, really. We sink into routines without much break in the ritual. At least in Wisconsin the sun shines, but the kids never really go outside because we constantly have windchill temperatures below zero. And we don't get cold days for anything like -15 or -20 degree windchill. We go to school unless it's below -30, thank you very much, Michiganders. Needless to say, it leads to cabin fever for students and teachers alike. Students get negative and whine-y, and lash out at each other (and sometimes me) which starts to drive me up a wall. I've also learned if I hang out with such attitudes day in and out, I start to get quite sassy.

It's a problem. Ask my husband.

The thing about February, though, is it's also often the start of Lent (or close to it). This year Lent is quite early, so it began about the middle of this month (if you aren't in tune with the church calendar). For those of you who know me, you know that since fifth grade I've given up something every year (I think). This year, I decided to pick up something instead of giving up. Following in a similar fashion to my choice for Lent while in Kenya, I am getting up earlier two mornings a week for personal devotion time. It's one of those things that I realized had gone by the wayside in the busy-ness of first year teaching and being a newlywed. Which I've realized is no excuse. In fact, it's probably part of the contributing factor to my attitude in some ways.

Ownership of their actions is something I've been begging to see from some of my students because, being adolescents who think they know it all, they cannot possibly be wrong or have any responsibility in the matter! But as I preached it to them and pulled my hair out over them not getting it, I didn't look at myself enough. I'm not helping the matter in how I'm thinking about my students, or my colleagues, or my husband. My attitude is going down the drain nearly as fast as my students'. But until I began to listen to God more intently, I had started to forget that.

So as we move into March, and continue in this season of Lenten reflection and pondering, I am starting fresh again. A new month, a new try at a new attitude. It's not going to change right away... Spring isn't getting here anytime soon, and we'll be cooped up together for quite some time still. But maybe by filling myself up with God and his wisdom more, I can be able to pour myself and His love out more effectively and abundantly to those around me. Not just for Lent, but for the months after as well.