Blind

just read my blog entry from this same Wednesday a year ago. Right at the beginning of my TFA experience, I wrote about the things that had surprised me up to that point, and it made me laugh a little bit because, if I'd waited a month or two, I probably could have added about 257 more things to that list. And, now, right in the middle, its funny to look back at where I was just 1 year ago and compare it to now. For example:

Last year at this time, Matt and I had been dating a little over a month. Now we've been married that long, and share a last name, a new apartment, and memories of a wonderful wedding.

Last August, I taught my classes how to pronounce "Pezzanite," now all official government agencies recognize me as Mrs. Jacobs.

At the beginning of last year, I had NO idea what I was doing as a teacher. I actually, on the second day of school, had students write things (I don't remember what) on sheets of paper, crumple them into balls, and throw them across the room at each other. Let me say that again: on the second day of school, I told classes of 28 middle schoolers to crumple up paper and throw it at each other. It was some kind of team building thing, I don't remember...probably because I blocked it out. As the year went on, however, I figured out a few things, a little bit about the middle school mind to be precise. A year ago, I stood in front of my classes and tried really hard to seem like I knew what I was doing. This year I actually do.

I could make a pretty long list of those. I could talk about idealism turned more realistic, or about all the hilarious stories you collect in middle school that I couldn't have told you a year ago. I could talk in detail about the difference between reading about the achievement gap and living in it, working with it, seeing its effects in beautiful eyes everyday. Or, I could talk about all the things that didn't change, like great friends here, missing those at home, and belief in the importance of what we're doing here.

But what struck me most as I read my blog from a year ago was why I thought it was so funny. I laughed at the me of August '09 for my naivete. I sort of thought I knew how the year was going to be, but I wasn't even close. I didn't know how hard or exhausting teaching was going to be, or how much joy was going to fill the year. I didn't know I would be getting married in 11 months and have a wonderful husband to walk through year 2 with. I knew I would love my kids, but I didn't know to what depth or how their stories would both break and fill my heart.

I walked into the year blind.

I think sometimes that's how you have to go, whether you realize it at the time or not. Sometimes you need the naive pure excitement of starting something to get you through the middle when you've forgotten why you started and the end is out of sight. Other times, you have to remember that you started blind so you can find enough flexibility to let go of rigid expectations and accept whatever reality turns out to be. And sometimes, I think we start that way simply so that God can bring us joy in ways that surprise us, that show His power because we weren't planning for them, didn't even see them coming.

What's really funny is that, even after writing this, even after seeing this past year unfold, I still sort of feel like I know how this next one will go. I still don't fully realize that I'm blind, that I don't know what will happen tomorrow, good or bad. But I'm learning, I guess. And hopefully in August 2011, I can look back, laugh at my own naivete, and think about all the ways the year surprised me.