Voices

Week 4 of my teaching career is over. I am on what I've been calling my fall break because some of us were sent to a teaching conference Thursday and Friday in Chapel Hill. Even though it was for work, let me tell you, sleeping in until 7:00 and then sitting instead of standing all day felt like a vacation. And I needed the break. We all did. We all signed up for this knowing it would be hard, but I know I certainly didn't realize the extent of it.

I've always been a crier. I cry in almost every emotional situation, whether its sad, angry, or happy. And lately, I'm finding myself spending a lot of time in tears or holding them back. I'm confronted with harsh lies and brutal truths every single day right now, and life is a little bit of an emotional roller coaster between the two.


Whispered

This job is hard and overwhelming, and I'm not really very good at it yet. And right now, it seems to be taking all of my physical, mental, and emotional energy. I've never poured so much of myself into one thing, and struggling with it leaves me feeling pretty inadequate, not just as a teacher, but in all of my roles. I spend 42 minutes a day with each of my classes, and I doubt that I can make any difference in that short amount of time. I doubt I can teach science, I doubt I can maintain relationships, I doubt all of my abilities to do what I'm here for. I start to question why I'm even here.

Tuesday night, I had a bit of a meltdown. Certainly not the first since I've been here, but one of the worst. My kids and I had both been off that day, which made teaching...well, what's the opposite of fun? I was discouraged, had to turn in progress reports for 160 kids and sub lesson plans the next day. It was almost midnight, and I could not think of anything to do with my classes the next day. I was believing lies about myself, my purpose here, even God. I started crying, couldn't stop, and then felt a nudge to pick up my journal from a year ago. It was after midnight at this point, and I flipped to September 16, 2008. I realized that exactly one year ago that day, I submitted my TFA application, and made the decision that, if I was accepted, then this is what I was supposed to be doing. Across the top of the page, I'd written I will not offer you a sacrifice which costs me nothing. 2 Samuel 24:24. A year ago, I was praying so hard to be right where I am. I got exactly what I prayed for, but blessed in so many ways that I would never have even thought to ask for. I started crying again, but for different reasons this time. Never doubt in the darkness what you've been shown in the light. I'm learning that sometimes lies will shout over whispered truth, and that's when you'll hear what you've decided to listen for.


Shouted

But sometimes truth doesn't whisper. Sometimes it shouts. And sometimes I cry because the truths I see around me make me angry. I'm angry at how feeble my efforts seem to make a difference for my kids. I'm angry that the only meal some of them get every day is at school. I'm angry that the high school I graduated from just got a whole new building with a rock wall in the gym, and I am about to run out of copy paper one month into the school year. I'm angry at the fact that I live about an hour east of the Research Triangle, with one of the highest concentrations of PhDs in the nation and several major universities, and our science supplies are next to none. I'm angry that I complain about my public school teacher paycheck when my students' parents are trying to support families on much less. I'm angry because I refuse to believe that God made all these children without making enough resources to care for them and people to love them. And this is happening in the United States. Truth shouts that this picture is wrong. I'm not trying to make any political statement about wealth distribution or socialized anything. I'm just angry because I see their beautiful faces, and I feel helpless to change the ugly truths that sometimes stare back at me.

I don't really have a way to wrap up my point into a neat package, except to say that, while these truths don't make life any easier (if anything they make it a lot harder right now), I think the day I stop feeling an emotional response to them, will be the day I need to go find something else to do. And like the whispered truth at midnight mid-meltdown, these shouts of reality remind me I'm exactly where I prayed to be.


Miss you all!!!