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.

How's Married Life?

As most of you know, on January 2nd my life and my name changed (well, the name thing is still getting legally all changed over... it's a long process to get it changed everywhere that needs to change it!).

Since then, I've been asked how married life is. The easiest answer is "good" and most people smile and move on after that. But what does my married life actually mean in reality?

It means living with a boy who's not my brother or father. This leads to more clutter with my clutter (though I will admit his is a lot more contained), full dressers, a stinkier bathroom (sometimes), and about three times as much laundry. It leads to men's soap and shampoo in my... er, our... shower. It leads to big comfy bathrobes, sweatshirts, and flannel shirts that smell like boy that I steal for brief periods... and unlike my brother he hardly argues (kisses, puppy dog eyes, and smiles get me a lot farther with the hubby than the brother...).

It means having loud music on while I work... oh wait, that happened in the dorms, too.

It means discussing weird habits and not judging each other... too much.

It means having someone to rub my shoulders and back while I work. Or while I watch movies. Or while I sleep because I was so relaxed from him rubbing my back while I watched movies (he doesn't really like that I fall asleep during just about any and all movies when he's holding me... I can't help that he has magic arms!).

It means cooking three times as much food, though I did start doing that back in October.

It means running out of drinks and food way faster. Why can't one of us despise pop or Oreos so the other can savor them longer?

It means having someone to go somewhere with and no longer feel lame for going somewhere, like a restaurant or event, alone.

It means having weird quirks to get used to... on both our parts.

It means learning that they way I've always done it, and always seen everyone around me do it, isn't the way that all  people, least of all my husband, do it.

It means dreaming about our future lake house but also bragging about how good our little apartment is for us now.

It means having someone to flirt with on a daily basis. And as a teacher that can mean weirding my students out... although they did set up mistletoe for us and one sixth grader, upon meeting him, simply looked at us and demanded we kiss. Then she cheered. So maybe they aren't as weirded out as expected. But it does mean that, unlike during dating while around malleable minds at camp, I can feel okay holding hands with him or sitting near him when we're around my kids because we're married - and married couples should be setting that example of a healthy, close relationship.

It means taking random slow dance breaks because a good song came on.

It means laying on his chest while he talks about the dreams he had or I talk about what happened at school.

It means walking into church with someone, ring on the finger, grins on our faces. It means going to the "Future Family" Bible study with my family at my side.

It means going to sleep quite a bit quicker and quite a bit warmer.

It means belting worship music together while I blog about how amazing he is.

It means I have someone to come home to every day. It means spending every hour that we aren't at work - waking and sleeping - together. And loving that relationship above everything besides my love for God.

It means sharing God is doing in my or his life, without holding back. It means having someone right there experiencing the very same moving of God.

It means a lot of growing, a lot of learning to let things go, but a lot of love, a lot of laughter, a lot of passion, and a whole lot of seeing just how much God loves me through whom He gave to me to show me an inkling of that unconditional, deep love.

I love being Mrs. Koning.

Blessed.

So I haven't written a post in a super long time. You're probably like:  "Is that a good or a bad sign?" "Is teaching really that busy?" "Should we be concerned?"

The answers: Both, most of the time, and no.

I could tell you minute, fine details about my weeks at school. I could share my frustrations and stresses - there are definitely daily doses of that. But I'm not going to. Instead of telling you when and how my kids can frustrate me, I'm going to share with you the ways my students, their families, and the staff have blessed me in the past nearly one semester.

I am blessed.

I am blessed by the smiles and "good morning" I get from eighth graders nearly every single morning as they put their backpacks in the far back shelves of my room.

I am blessed by the challenging student who is behind in reading and writing, but instead of blowing off a project I've assigned, pokes his head in my room to ask for help. And I am blessed when I am able to give him a good grade for his work.

I am blessed to watch nearly two months of work on a speech and spelling fest, months where I wasn't entirely sure how this whole process worked, pay off at a region-wide festival where my students get mostly all top scores.  I am blessed to be able to just hang out with my students all day at the festival, being invited to eat lunch with them, and even getting surprise candy left in my bag from some of them. I am blessed to see how supportive they all are of one another.

I am blessed by a mentor who throws his support behind most everything I am doing or trying. I am blessed when he allows me talk about way too much during our meetings.

I am blessed by the relationships I have with some of these students, relationships that fill me up and remind me how much I love this job. I am blessed by the energetic sixth grader that reminds me of the girls I've watched grow up, and I am blessed when she is begging me to help her with her homework or is insisting I must be on her team when we go bowling in a couple weeks. I am blessed by the student who would potentially be challenging but with whom I get to spend time after school in study place, where I get to ease off some of the teacher-type command and just get to know her for all her silliness. I am blessed by the girl who never fails to give a compliment or share a short conversation about non-academic topics that are important to her or to me. I am blessed by the student who will often catch my eye to share a smile or tries to quiet his classmates when he knows it's getting out of hand. I am blessed by the student who I admit I wouldn't mind spending time with outside of school because conversation flows easily with her. I am blessed by the student who all the other teachers said used to be a challenge, but whom I see blossoming into a positive leader and a joy to have in my class most days. I am blessed to watch a student call out his peers about unwise decisions or inconsiderate conversations, for I feel blessed to be teaching a young man of such godly character and boldness. I am blessed when my classes can get me laughing or smiling even on tense days.

I am blessed by the parents who come to conferences already open to what I have to say and ready to stand behind me and take my side. I am blessed that they are so invested in their sons and daughters that they want them to be doing their very best, and that they see the value of education, which isn't always the case with parents at every school.

I am blessed when what I am working on doing in my class sticks in the other classes, so that students are pulling out daily grammar books to remind themselves what an adjective is so they can find them in the social studies text or are required to write story problems in math.

I am blessed when a group who struggled with one chapter of an old text stick with it and end up begging for more. I am blessed when students admit they struggled to read a story with vocabulary or sentence structure they weren't comfortable with, but then they end up liking the story regardless and grasping the key ideas I want them to glean.

I am blessed by the room parent coming to ask me if I want the eighth grade to throw me a bridal shower. I am blessed by the family who opened up their home to wild eighth graders on a Saturday night. I am blessed by the students who took charge to pull together food, games, and gifts for the party. I am blessed by fourteen families who sent recipes and ingredients with their student as gifts for me. I am blessed by three quality gifts bought by the pooling of money from each family - all of it more than I anticipated.

I am blessed by a principal who sends me encouraging emails, cards on special occasions, notes of thanks for snacks on my required day or for sharing something insightful during a meeting, and holds a "yay you survived the first quarter" check-up with me. I am blessed that she joins this team to teach and mold the middle schoolers' hearts and minds.

I am blessed by coworkers who are just as open to hear my suggestions as they are willing to give them when I need them most. I am blessed when they look to me for guidance in areas I have been trained in or instructed about during my college years.

I am blessed by the teacher who with one look on a particularly crazy morning says "you seem stressed" and then checks in with me later that day.

I am blessed by four-square and the opportunity to bond on the blacktop as well as the classroom.

I am blessed by the fact that many of my students are nearly as excited about this wedding as I am.

I am blessed by the parent who thanks Kyle and I for the witness we are to the students simply by the fact we aren't buying into the cultural norm of living together, which stimulates conversation between the kids and between the parents and their kids about the why behind our choice. I am blessed to know God's truth can shine through our lives in that way, and that maybe we're making a difference to these kids' perceptions in this post-modern world.

I am blessed that I now come home every night to a man who listens to my stories, holds me when I'm having a particularly rough day, and gives me snacks, chocolate, a back or foot massage, or whatever I desire. I am blessed that in just 19 more sleeps he'll be able to call this apartment home as well and won't have to leave.

I am blessed by this and so, so much more. I am blessed by Sheboygan Christian, I am blessed to be exactly where God has called me, and I am blessed to be doing a job that still hardly seems like a job.

For the Love of my Calling

Today it hit me I get paid to do this.

My paycheck came weeks ago, but it was today I realized I'm doing this for money; not for grades or for practice, but this is my real-life, serious career. I'm doing something that feels nearly as natural as breathing every day, and it's my job.

This is why they call it a calling.

I'm nearly finished with the third week of school. In some ways, it doesn't seem like it. Each period goes by in hardly any time at all. Before I know it, we're at lunch, then the end of the day, and I'm thinking whoa, 8 hours are over already? Then all of a sudden it's nearly or past 5:00 and I realize I should go home for dinner. The next day goes just as quickly. I can hardly believe we're nearly at October, creeping closer to speech festival, convention, and the end of first quarter.

Yet, in other ways, it seems like I've been doing this for far more than three weeks. I know these kids. I can predict in first hour how the kids will probably be acting when I see them again in fifth hour and adjust in my head if needed. I'm understanding who needs what level of firmness and what kids have a hard time working with what other kids. And the kids have figured me out some too, I think. They know "eyes and ears on me" means they stop conversations and look at me. They know when I look at the clock, I'm counting minutes they're wasting and they quiet right away, afraid of staying in at break for wasting my time. Unconsciously, I believe I've gained "the look" that works on 90% of students because I can just look at someone who's talking too much and if they catch my eye they apologize and stop. They also know that when they're focused and not having their own side conversations, I will be able to actually have some fun and share my life or experiences with them and listen to theirs. They know I want to choose interesting things to read, some of them a little out-of-the-box. They know if they give me good attention during the week that I actually love watching videos that relate to our topic. So really, I feel like it's been far longer than three weeks because I feel so settled into what I'm doing.


I also have to brag about this staff. Seriously - the best. I have yet to feel like a total novice because they don't look down on me. I freely ask questions to anyone on staff and their answers come back as if they're just gently reminding me of something I knew - which I didn't, but they don't act like I should have - or they even blame themselves for not telling me. Even more than that, everyone is looking to me for advice and fresh ideas, and that makes me feel like they believe in me. Okay, not just feel like they do - know that they do.

Even though I could speak about any of my colleagues, I'll just pick out the four that have been the greatest support. One and two - my fellow middle school teachers, Laureen and Steve. They're the ones who get some of the daily questions because they're the ones who have a break at the same time as I do and never yet have I felt sheepish coming to them. They just explain it with a smile and clarity of ideas, and we move on in our day as a team.
Then there's Kathy, my principal. It feels a little strange thinking of her as my boss because she's so un-boss-like - in the greatest way. She's a lot of times in the trenches with us - partially because she's also helping teach 6th grade, and partially because she just wants to immerse herself in what the teachers are going through as well.  She isn't ashamed to tell me when she doesn't know something.She is like one of us in ways that few principals I've ever encountered, in any placement, have been.  She's not the authoritarian who sits in her office dealing mostly with the trouble students or the voice that controls all conversation at the staff meetings. She is a teacher, through and through, who also happens to be head of the school. Yet she's so knowledgeable and aware of all the teachers, all the students, and all the goings on of the whole school in ways the principal should be. She's like the perfect mix and I love that she's my boss because I feel so comfortable with her.
And finally, Joel. my mentor teacher (though he kind of resists the label sometimes because it feels too official) and someone who's quickly becoming my friend. I can't tell you how many times I've just gone to Joel with a small plea - "help!" - or  a "So, there's this problem..." or "I have an idea but I don't how it'll work." Sometimes I go just to talk, air out my thoughts on the day, and hear his advice or empathy. The amount of time I've been in that fourth grade classroom is second only to my own classroom. And never have I felt like Joel just wishes I would go away so he could work in peace (even though sometimes I probably should wrap up my conversation with him sooner so that he can get to work). Never have I felt like there's this divide between elementary and middle school teaching like I sometimes did in education classes, and that he can't relate to what I'm doing in sixth, seventh, or eighth grade. And once again, I haven't felt like a novice around him. He's one of the biggest supporters of my ideas. That's why I share so many with him - because I know he'll love it as much as I do, or maybe make me love it more, and then give key tips for implementation. He knows more about me and my thought processes and my frustrations than anyone at that school. Even though he has a family and there's a seven year gap, I honestly call him a friend.

I re-met the parent who was on the interview panel at the school's Open House/Parent Awareness Night tonight. He gave me a hard time for not remembering who he was, but it did start spinning wheels in my head back to that time I sat in Room Three, which is now where I give devotions every morning and seek Steve out if I need him, nervous, unsure of what God was planning, and not certain that I was doing well enough in the interview to land a job. Joel was there, on that panel. So was Kathy. And Laureen. Steve was going to be, but couldn't make it that day. Since that time, I've found out about other candidates who were vying for the position - thankfully for my conscience, they also have teaching jobs they love now. But the interview panel picked me. In less than a week, they knew I was the one. It was more than just the fact that I'm able to teach in most of the capacities that needed to be filled - English, social studies, and Bible (side note: when I picked up a history minor, it was with intention to have it as something that I could pull out for extra qualifications... who knew how that would play into the exact position I'd interview for, as I picked up what Reid left). It was more than my education, my level of experience, my grade point average. I'm sure all those things helped - I mean, you have to hire a teacher who you're confident knows how to teach well. But mostly it was God.

The days - months - of applications that returned no results, the worried heart as graduation approached, seem like a haze now, but I was struck with the memory that it was until literally two days before graduation that I was concerned and clueless. That phone call the week after I interviewed shocked me - they were interested in me, I was near the top of the list. Then, a short time later, they confirmed that they wanted me. Me! God knew before I even got the email to set up an interview I'd be sitting in an apartment a block away from the school that has become a place I love. He knew I'd be in Sheboygan, which is an ideal city for me - small, but not cut off from malls and a downtown, and by the lake. When I told my family that I thought the interview went well but I thought the interview before mine sounded like it went better from snippets of laughter I heard, and I thought it could go either way for me, God probably laughed to himself, knowing the phone call I'd get the next week. Knowing that I'd start my career right out of college in a place that is better than I could have picked for myself.

I won't say these students are perfect - trust me, there are daily struggles with these squirrelly middle schoolers. Neither is the staff. But it's where I need to be. It's where I love to be. That's more than enough now.