Charming typos :)

Judging by his spelling errors, I'm not sure how much I've actually helped him? Made my day nonetheless! Too funny!

---------------

Dear Mrs. Morreim,

   

This is part of an email assignment in word proccessing. I would like to thank you for helping me be able to write collage grade pappers. Your class has helped me tremendously in writing collage grade pappers and essays. You also helped me sharpen up my wprd choice and grammer. Thank you alot.

    

Sincerely, Matt

Theraflu and Starbucks

Right now I am hopped up on Theraflu cold medicine and a big ol' thermos of Starbucks coffee. I am exhausted. It's one of those days where 8am hasn't even hit yet and I'm already giving myself pep talks. Yesterday I stayed home sick with a head cold, which has now moved into my chest, resulting in me sounding like a blues singer with a 30-year smoking habit. I probably should have stayed home today as well, but I get bored.

As I write this, I'm realizing how whiny I sound... A different way of saying how I'm feeling today is that I'm in desperate need of encouragement. In many areas of my life right now I feel like I am just barely making it by; in relationships, work, physical health. I am letting myself become run down by the world and its cares. I am being ruled by worry more often than I'd like to admit, or more often than I think is healthy (is it ever healthy? hmm).  I want to shovel these discouraging thoughts out of my mind and fill my head and heart up with His truth.

Psalm 27:14 - "Wait for the Lord. Be strong and take heart, and wait for the Lord."
Isaiah 41:10 - "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 - "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."

being graded

My students turned in their very first paper last week. As a teacher, it was easy to forget about the anxiousness that inevitably comes when a student turns in an essay. I was shocked at my students' questioning when I collected the essays: "Miss Morreim, do you think you'll get those done by tomorrow?" They weren't asking out of annoyance or impatience; their raised eyebrows and wide eyes betrayed them. They were worried about what I would think.

This raises a couple of questions for me. One, what is their experience with grades? Is it simply: if the teacher likes them enough, they will receive an "A" for that essay? Second, do they believe writing to be that subjective? They were relieved as I reminded them about the rubric; it shows them clearly what they'll be graded on and what constitutes an A, B, and so on. I also reminded them that I would not dock them points for something that I hadn't taught them yet - to which one student replied, "Thank you!"

The biggest question is this: how can I show my students that what really matters in the grand scheme of life is if they're proud of what they've written? What I wanted to ask them was, "Well, what do YOU think about it? Are you proud of it? Does this reflect who you are?" I want my kids to write things they'd be proud to hang on their refrigerator. I want them to write in a way that makes them not worry about what the teacher thinks. I want them to write about what they love, to write about things passionately, to write with purpose and with a desire to get better at the craft; and maybe, just maybe, along the way, to find a piece of themselves they didn't know existed.

In memory of Jill's reputation...

I've already got an embarrassing story, and it's only three days in! Imagine what else this school year will bring! Thankfully, this does not involve me teaching in my classroom. If I already looked like a moron to my kids, I'd be toast. 

So it's the end of teacher workshop week, and we're all gathering in the gym to take our staff photo. We decided to wear the football jerseys. The jerseys that were still wet from the washing machine and smelled like sweat, I might add. I'm chit-chatting away with one of my fellow new teacher friends and I grab a jersey without looking at it and throw it on. 

Little did I know as I walked towards the bleachers, laughing and talking, that I grabbed the most embarrassing jersey of all. Number 69. It took all of 7 seconds for one of the veteran teachers to notice and yell out, "Morreim! I like the jersey pick!" Commence the entire teaching staff laughing and cracking jokes at me. "Hey, Morreim! There's room in the front row!" "Morreim, try not to look so seductive when we're taking the picture. The kids will see this!" "Morreim, I'm not judging, but we're supposed to keep our personal lives private!" "Lookin' good, Morreim!" 

Well, I tried to be taken seriously as a professional. Good thing I was the youngest in my family - I've been conditioned to take crap like a champ. 

fear

Sometimes, when I'm bored and left to my own devices, I start to imagine my worst fears. All sorts of things, really. Fear of the future, past, what might happen, what probably will happen, thinking up things that will happen that in all actuality never will (but, you think, it still could happen), fear of losing family, friends. Blah blah blah.

I'm getting tired just typing all of that out. Sheesh, what a nutcase.

A few days ago as I was talking to God about all of this, something hit me: all of those things could happen. Yep. Trusting in God does not mean trusting that nothing bad will happen. Then I did something that I haven't done before. I played out those fears in their fullest - past when the dust settles on a terrible situation and  your entire life is in complete upheavel. Past my initial reaction and realization. Past the emotional trauma of having whatever fear it is realized in my life. After all of that - what would I do? Well, that's the wrong question. What would He do? He would give me strength, assurance, the supernatural ability to brush the dirt off myself and keep on walking. I'd be a mess, yes. But He wouldn't be. And in that I would be strong.

Don't you ever wonder how the Proverbs 31 woman "laughs at the days to come?" That woman has no fear. None. It seems that she quiets her fears by acknowledging that crap happens in life, and even if her worst dreams become a reality, she knows where her footing is - she is planted right on top of the truth that He will never leave us, forsake us, or abandon us. He did not make us timid, ladies! He gives us a spirit of power and a giant can of you-know-what to smack our fears square in the face, David and Goliath style.

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

ooof

Do you ever have one of those weeks where every day is one of those days? Where you knock your funnybone on the wall? Forget to completely wash out the shampoo in your hair? Miss the 10-second window when your toast is still hot enough to melt the peanut butter just right (due to said shampoo situation)? That's me this week. It's the last week of school and I am pathetically trying to push through to the end. If you looked up "burnt-out" in the dictionary, you'd find a photo of me. Guaranteed.

As of right now, I'm taking a quick reprieve from grading research papers and paperwork. To which I should return.

In Him we live and move and breathe and have our being, and in him I can grade, focus, and finish well (but only in Him).

ringing in the weekend

Trader Joe's grub? Check.
Leggings on? Check.
Vino? Check.
Cheesy girly movie (Time Traveler's Wife)? Check.
Bike ride? About to commence.

This is one of the joys of being a twentysomething. You can do whatever you darn well want to on a Friday night. My bathroom mirror is splattered with toothpaste, we are down to one toilet paper roll (4-squares rationing...) and I haven't seen the middle seat in my car for a couple weeks now. And do you know what? Do you really want to know what?

I really don't care.

This girl's taking her bad self outside to bike and soak in the last of the Friday sunshine.

to have hope

What does it mean to have hope?

"Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall, but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." -Isaiah 40:30-31

There's a promise in there: those who hope in the Lord will be renewed, strengthed, immovable. It didn't say: if you grit your teeth and just try really really hard to be better, you'll be stronger. Or, my personal favorite: if you have one more thermos of coffee, you'll be able to get through the day. I've been thinking about this verse all day. What am I hoping in the Lord for, exactly? Am I even hoping in the Lord? Am I hoping for the right things?

If I could pin it down as of late, I'm hoping that life won't be too hard and that God will bust open the heavens, plop down next to me in a coffee shop, hand over a roadmap for my life, and throw in a guarantee that life will go according to [my] plan. I'm hoping that God will take away certain parts of me, because then life would be easier if I could only "be like this person." I'm a feeler. I process everything on a feeling level and I view the world in the same way. I've been reluctantly coming to terms with that recently. Instead of trying to change that part of myself, I'm learning how to believe that it is a strength and not a sign of weakness. God made me that way. Who am I to say he did it wrong? I'm hoping that this tough stage will be over with soon. Transition is hard. It's not what I expected. Making new friends is hard. Paying the bills is hard. Working full time is hard. My dad laughs at me when I update him and my mom about my endeavors during our Wednesday night dinners. He goes, "Jill, the Lord is just hammering the iron." Then he chuckles heartily and takes another bite of pot roast.

I'm also hoping that God will speak to me, that he will show me where to step, that I will feel his reassurance and love more and more everyday. I'm hoping that the Lord is teaching me some big things during this time. I'm hoping that these life experiences will continually reveal to me how much I need God and need to be loved by Him. I'm hoping and believing that I will find my identity in his grace - and not anywhere else.

I'm glad he's got it together, because there are days I am a hot mess - amen!

party in the C-R-V

Yesterday I shamelessly listened to 94.5 on the way to school. That catchy Miley Cyrus song was on... somethin somethin... "they're playin my song, and the butterflies fly away... party in the U-S-A!" Naturally, I had it cranked up. And naturally, the principal witnessed the entire thing.

the big 2-3

Tomorrow I am twenty-three years old. My twenty second year was a time of huge growth and change. I lived in 5 different residences within one year, for example - State Street, North Myrtle, my parents' house, 3rd avenue, and now St. Paul. I worked in a video store, at a McDonald's in the deep South, directed a play, and student taught. I went on an adventure to North Myrtle Beach and I'll never forget a day of that summer. I began teaching at Lakeville one week after student teaching ended - whew! God knew I would deal with the adjustment of the real world much better with less time on my hands to think. That's how he operates with me, it seems. He throws me right in - and shows me how to trust him. Trial by fire.

My twenty second year brought change, challenges, seasons of being pushed and stretched. If I could sum it up thematically, it would be, "God throws Jill into a million different situations and shows her the only stable thing in this world is the Lord." My twenty third year brings me the chance to take root. I've got a job and an apartment (and a wonderful roommate, I might add). The trick now will be to take the initiative to keep growing and learning.

I'll never forget a Christmas card from my Grandma Morreim a couple of years ago. She wrote, "Just think, this year brings a whole new world of possibilities to my youngest granddaughter!"

It's just as true today as it was then.

Bring it on, 23. Let's see what you've got.

to be fully yourself

My favorite moments of the day are when my kids let go of the feeling that they are being watched and scrutinized and for a brief period of time, carry a "screw it, I don't care WHAT anyone thinks!" persona about them. This does not happen intentionally for my kids, or very often. It sneaks up on them and ever so gently lifts off the burden of the world that hangs on their shoulders, carries the weight for a bit, lets them breathe. But when it does, I look at them and think: there you are.

What makes you let go? What allows you to live out your design? I find it in a few places. Teaching, for one. I find my rhythm and get on a roll and on the spot think of ways to teach something - I love it when that happens. I love to watch my kids learn something, watch them turn in their rough draft of their research papers so proud that they made it 8 pages - something about that brings me alive. Hearing one of my Goals kids say that hadn't read a book since 5th grade until they were in my class, and they actually liked reading it - I lived on that encouragement for days. Talking with people, meeting new people, hearing about their wounds, scars, successes, hopes - that energizes me. Bike rides, taking pictures, listening to Talking Heads, finding a shirt for $3, writing, being outside, going for drives in my car spontaneously. Decorating. Making my first pot roast. Giggling with my 8th grade girls about someone farting during church. Having a glass of wine.

It seems fitting to put that list to the tune of "These are a few of my favorite things," but I hate The Sound of Music, and I don't think Julie Andrews would sing about farting.

ka-put

I have kicked all of my ambition out the door. We got in a fight. Ambition was saying I should grade those papers that have taken up residence on my desk for two weeks and search a little harder for those vocab quizzes that I suddenly cannot find. In return, I told ambition that I've had enough of being a productive and valued citizen, thank you very much, and I would rather relinquish all my brainpower to getting a suntan instead. All the while my comments to my students have grown sassier, "I'm sorry for the emotional trauma that is being caused by my giving you a ten-minute homework assignment, but send me the therapist's bill. It's a risk I'll take."

Honestly, where did those quizzes go? They just took them on Monday. This is terrible.

I figured something out. When my college professors told me to always give my students a "why," I was living in the land of idealism. Yes, I thought, I will always explain to my students succinctly and beautifully why they are learning how to properly use a semicolon and how it will enhance their lives. Then, at the end of each week, we will hold hands and join together in a song about the greatness that is Academic Writing. Now I have seen the light: When I tell them why, it gives them reason to question everything I do.

Let me illustrate:
Students: "Miss Morreim, we haaate reading day, why do we have to read? This is soooo lame. Mr. Hanson's class gets to go outside. Why can't weeee go outside?"
Me: "Reading improves your vocabulary and research shows that it improves your writing skills more than any other activity."
Students: "whinewhinewhine"

A better response:
Students: "Miss Morreim, whine whine whine whine whine?"
Me: "Because I said so. Deal with it."
Students: (in desks, reading quietly).

How did those quizzes disappear? I'm losing it...

moving out

Packing today, moving in tomorrow!
HOLLER!

Needed: spring break and a cat poster

I am more antsy for spring break to get here than my kids! My motivation is low, people. I'm talking LOW. I want to get all my stuff done before break so I can relax, move in, paint, nest, explore. If anyone has ideas about how to keep my motivation levels up when I'm more interested in the burn on my ear from curling my hair than the stack of informative papers piled before me, let me know. I need a pep talk.

Today one of my Goals kids was inspecting the posters in my room.
"Miss M, do you have one of those cat posters? You know what I mean - the ones that have the cat hanging by a branch and it says, 'hang in there'?"
"No, I don't."
"You don't? Every teacher has those."
"I guess I'm not an official teacher until I have one, huh?"
"Don't worry about it, I'll steal you one tomorrow."
"No, don't take one from ano-"
"Miss M, I said don't worry about it, I'll get you one. You need one."
"But you can't just take one from-"
"Miss M. You NEED a cat poster."
"But-"
"I'm serious."
"Alright, fine. Just don't tell me who you stole it from."
Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil...

ahem:

This is my niece. She is the cutest thing in the entire world and is missed by her Auntie!

drawing a line

I'd like to think that I do not let my students' lives or problems impact me, but they do. It does carry over into my life, and I am still discerning at what point it is good, and at what point I need to draw an emotional line. Last night I couldn't sleep because I am worried about a couple of my kids. I also woke up dreaming about a nightmarish episode about my kids writing their works cited - nothing was alphabetized or spaced correctly. It was terrible.

Frankly, I kind of don't care if sometimes I can't sleep because I am concerned about students. It is what it is, and I can't figure out how to shut it off anyways.

thankful

I am thankful for, in no particular order:

bike rides
sunshine
levi's
my squirrely creative writing kids
my new nickname - "Miss Morqueesha"
dixon ticonderoga #2 pencils
nutella
honest friends
a paycheck
Betty the drive-thru lady
the moldy grass smell in spring
turkey sandwiches
a boyfriend who likes turkey sandwiches too
driving & listening to the rain
my crazy 8th grade confirmation girls
miss zimanske
the cold side of the pillow
grandma's quilts
my church
knowing all the songs on the radio in the morning
grace

"But God's not finished. He's waiting around to be gracious to you.
He's gathering strength to show mercy to you.
God takes the time to do everything right—everything.
Those who wait around for him are the lucky ones." Isaiah 30:18

"I love you"

My niece said "I love you" to me last night on the phone. It was more like "lash ew," but still. Oh, my heart... :)

My parents are in Las Vegas until Sunday, which means I am in command of the dog. Correction: the dog is in command of me. Three times last night he woke me up, either barking at me to fill up the bathrub with water so he could get a drink (long story) or growling to let him go pee outside, a side effect of the said bathtub situation. Then, at 5:53am this morning, I woke up to him sleeping on my head and was introduced to another level of his snoring I didn't think was possible.

On April 1st, I am officially an adult. Christa and I found an apartment on Grand Ave! It's cute - wood floors, nice windows, teeeeny kitchen, charming bathroom. Ooo, and a parking spot to boot (hard to come across).

Jill comes to visit this weekend! Wahoo! And tonight, Lance and I are having dinner with Molly, Matt & Sarah (who are in town visiting from Chicago). AND, next week my dear friend Kirsten from summer project comes to visit for a night! I am looking forward to spending time with my friends!

belated valentine's day poem

Looking through poems this morning, thought this was pretty funny...

IF YOU FEEL SORRY
by Ted Kooser

If you feel sorry for yourself
this Valentine's Day, think of
the dozens of little paper poppies
left in the box when the last
of the candy is gone, how they
must feel, dried out and brown
in their sad old heart-shaped box,
without so much as a single finger
to scrabble around in their
crinkled petals, not even
one pimpled nose to root and snort
through their delicate pot pourri.
So before you make too much
of being neglected, I want you
to think how they feel.

my saturday evening

This is me right now: leggings tucked into my socks, unwashed hair, wearing a brand-new Gap sweater found at Savers this morning ($4, thank you, tags were still on it), Harley sleeping on my lap, glass of wine in hand, lesson plans on the table, John Mayer playing, cooking steak & brussel sprouts.

Bliss...

grace like an ocean

When my heart breaks for my kids, when I'm up to my eyeballs in planning, when I am unsure about my future, when I miss my friends, when life isn't exactly "just so" - I realize life will never be orderly, that I am blessed to have friends to miss, that the world is at my feet and my future is in His hands, that I have an amazing opportunity to learn more about planning and teaching, and that I although I can't fix my kids' problems, I can give them a safe haven, I can give them prayers, and I can give them love. I can even use commas in excess if I want to even though I'm an English teacher.

He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy.
When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,
And I realise just how beautiful You are,
And how great Your affections are for me.

And oh, how He loves us so,
Oh how He loves us,
How He loves us all
-David Crowder Band, "How He Loves Us"

Essential Question: Who are my students?

While in my teaching prep courses at UWEC, our learning goals were framed in "essential questions." Our content was driven by these EQ's. One of these EQ's hit me in a new way today: Who are my students?

It's one thing to answer this question in theory, referring to textbooks and articles written by adolescent psychologists to present my well-written and articulated answer. Those answers and conversations had order, semblance, and systematic thinking behind it. But I deal with people - with students - and the first theory that I chucked out the window is that you can approach people based on generalizations.

Today I was shown who my students are.

My students struggle with deep-seated depression that they can't shake, bringing them near tears when I asked them, "how are you today?" I saw the feeling of defeat and hopelessness written all over their face, and saw in their eyes that they didn't know how they were going to make it through the next hour.

My students have been abused. Hit by the very people who should love them; discarded with the attitude that parenting them was a flippant, optional decision. They have steeled their approach in return, callousing their hearts, sharpening their offense and letting their guard down only when they've tested you long enough to know you are safe.

My students face severe anxiety, and are paralyzed from it. Who can focus on school when you feel like the walls are inching closer and closer in on you? Their feelings are out of control, jumping and maneuvering and colliding like hail reacting to the sidewalk. They would give anything for consistency, for routine.

My students need me to look beyond their missing assignments, poor attitude, and lack of effort in order to see and understand what's really going on: their messy and unpredictable life.

the little engine that could (with a little help)

"Never let the sense of failure corrupt your new action." -Oswald Chambers

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

confession

I wanted to walk out of my classroom today and never return...just leave the kiddos there, go grab some coffee, and hurl the non-working laptop carts off into the commons area on my way out the door. Not to mention, assign a detention to every single kid who asked me if this was worth points, if they could do their math homework during class, or why couldn't he flirt with the girl next to him all hour and not write his rough draft?

It ticks me off that I need to assign a point value to every single thing, that I'm responsible for the kid who will potentially fail. If they aren't motivated, do I have to hold their hand? That annoys me to no end. Kids need to see the consequences of their choices. But when it's my butt on the line, what then?

It's time to get creative...

hazelnut coffee & scrambled eggs

Mmmh. McDonald's has the BEST coffee. I'm sitting here enjoying a large cup of black coffee with hazelnut syrup and scrambled eggs with ketchup.

Week 3 already! Wow. In some ways that feels fast; in others, it feels like I've been here for months. I am settled into a routine but I don't think it will all feel real until that first paycheck comes! Next big thing on the list? Finding an apartment :) Christa and I will be looking in the Uptown/Chain of Lakes area and the St. Paul Grand Ave area. We think it might be a little ambitious to get a place by March 1, but, if the right place comes along - who knows! I'll miss sleeping with my dog every night, though. He's a mini heater.

As I am still working on my coffee, I am low on wit and insight at the moment. Check back with me later.

restored

Funny the things I turn to for satisfaction, when all the while, the Lord is near and is waiting. My actions are evidence of what I'm really trusting in. I'm trusting that this big old cup of Starbucks coffee will morph me into the most productive and creative teacher while I plan lessons today. I'm trusting that if I schedule out my entire day, if I write it all in ink into my planner, then it will happen. I wrote it in ink, didn't I? I'm trusting in the belief that other people's perceptions of me matter the most, and I can tell I'm doing so because my feelings are contingent on what I perceive they must be thinking of me. What do my students think? What do my colleagues think? I'm trusting in my own plans and in my own power. "No thanks, God, I've got this one. Really."

In other words: I know I'm not perfect, I see my shortcomings all too clearly, but instead of going to the Lord for forgiveness and fulfillment I am trying to fix it myself. I have this feeling that I don't quite measure up because I don't measure up. This is truth: we fall short of perfection. Well, now what? How do we react to this? I know what doesn't work: trying to live life on Starbucks coffee and a day planner.

I'm forgetting about a very important adverb.

In the book of Jeremiah, Israel messed up (how's that for a Biblical synopsis?). The prophet Jeremiah had the happy job of announcing the destruction of the kingdom of Judah, "This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says about the houses in this city and the royal places of Judah that have been torn down to be used against the siege ramps and the sword in the fight with the Babylonians: 'They will be filled with the dead bodies of the men I will slay in my anger and wrath. I will hide my face from this city because of all its wickedness.'" -Jeremiah 33:4-5. They sinned, and there was a very real consequence for that sin.

But what is the very next word? Nevertheless. It's an adverb. Adverbs modify and describe verbs; it changes their meaning entirely. Pay attention to them. The story does not end with God doling out an appropriate judgment to Israel; the action of his judgment and wrath is absolutely modified by the promise of restoration that follows. God then says, "Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and will let them enjoy abundant peace and security. I will bring Judah and Israel back from captivity and will rebuild them as they were before. I will cleanse them from all the sin they have committed against me and will forgive all their sins of rebellion against me... there will be heard once more the sounds of joy and gladness." He brings abundant peace to our hearts, an overwhelming security. He fully knows and sees our sin - YET - He rebuilds, restores, cleanses, forgives, infuses joy and gladness into us once more. His love is nothing short of fierce, powerful, unwarranted, undeserved, incomparable. Pure.

Pay attention to adverbs. The truth is easily twisted. We are sinners, but do not forget about "nevertheless." Do not forget about the promise of restoration that God freely offers to us. Stop trying to hit the reset button all by yourself, because you can't. Believe you me, I've been trying. Go to him. Step into grace. "Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." -Jeremiah 33:2.

Must do: plan escape route

To protect the privacy of the parties involved, I will not give specifics. However, I will say this: at one of the schools I teach at, there is a bonafide creeper-teacher. I did not want to categorize creeper-teacher immediately, as that would be considered rash and not entirely very friendly; but due to today's events, he has left me no choice.

So I'm walking down the hallway, saying "hello" to teachers and casting dirty looks to participants of public "I'm going to inhale your toungue" sessions, when I see said teacher on the other side of the hallway.

Encounter One
Me: Good morning.
Creeper-Teacher: Hi.
Me: How are ya?
Creeper-Teacher: Excellent.

Encounters Two, Three, and Four
Me: Good morning.
Creeper-Teacher: Hi.
Me: How are ya?
Creeper-Teacher: Very excellent. [Channel your best Hannibal Lector voice while saying these lines in your head]

Today's Encounter:
Me: Hi there.
Creeper-Teacher: ... [insert brisk walk, knotted eyebrows, and a 10 second stare]

Tomorrow, I think I'll pick my nose when I see him. What's he gonna do with THAT?!

cabin fever

I was reading essays last night, and numerous kids wrote about summertime, sunshine, cabins, and lakes. I don't think I've ever wanted spring to come as badly as I do this year!

I'm getting lonely out here without a lot of gal-pal interaction. The past couple of days, especially, I am definitely feeling the adjustment to a new life. As such, I am finding it very hard to focus on lesson planning/grading. My friends are scattered everywhere, and we are all going through the same process; the difference is, now we're not physically there to support each other. We've jumped into new lives but are still breaking the habits and routines of what we knew for years. I think I'm still figuring out the best ways to unstress and unwind after the bell rings and I've still got stuff to do. I'm living on a prayer, people.

rotten banana, please report to the front office...

Last Tuesday I had a bag with a banana and a nutri-grain bar in it. To my uttermost confusion, it "disappeared." After rummaging around for a solid 30 seconds, I raised my white flag of surrender and went on to more pressing matters; i.e., googling "how to be an english teacher." I just found it lurking in the bottom drawer of my file cabinet, which was apparently the most logical place to put it (she says with sarcasm). Banana's official time of death: 2:57pm, February 8th. Poor thing.

Today I parked in visitor's parking... and I took the elevator to 3rd floor. And I had a cup of Culligan water even though I'm not on the list. My collegiate behavior needs a tune-up.

I've decided to nix making goals. For example, I had a goal that this weekend I would plan out all of next week. I did not reach said goal. I did, however, come out of the weekend with a new pair of $8 shoes and some hockey skating practice. Thus, I am forgoing all goals, and forthwith will consider any measure of productivity a raging accomplishment.

consistency

Teaching shows you the nature of your heart. It's a barometer, really, that gives me an instant reading of the amount of patience and love in me at that moment. How I respond to the fifth student asking the same innocent question, for example, carries a lot of weight with those who are watching me. Am I consistent? Kind? Clear? Loving?

In the interest of finding the true meaning of a word, and in the mission of reflecting upon one of the most important character traits it takes to be a teacher, here's the definition of consistent:
adjective
1. agreeing or accordant; compatible; not self-contradictory: His views and actions are consistent.
2. constantly adhering to the same principles, course, form, etc.: a consistent opponent.
3. holding firmly together; cohering.
4. Archaic. fixed; firm.

Fixed, anchored, cohesive, harmonious, reliable, uniform. I don't know if you can try to be consistent, because it seems to require something beyond that - I think our actions and reactions bubble up from beliefs, convictions, values. Simply put, out of the overflow of our heart, we speak, act, damage, or repair. Where's my heart at? Knowing and dealing with that is much more effective than any classroom management technique or relationship approach, because it requires me to grapple with the source of my attitude.

Do I interact the same way with the clerk at Payless Shoes as I do with the principal of the school? With my 8th grade confirmation girls and my close girlfriends? Between my parents and my boyfriend?

Something to think about.

Bambi got murdered

We read aloud our personal essays today in Academic Writing. The highlight, by far, was one kid's essay titled: "The Day I Killed Bambi." He then went on to explain how he shot a deer in the legs, which didn't kill it. Trying to put Bambi out of her misery, he shot her in the head. When the deer STILL wasn't dead, he slit its throat. "Finally, 45 minutes later, the stupid thing finally died... I was just trying to put it out of its misery." I was laughing so hard I was crying. The way this kid told his story was just priceless. [Apologies to any animal lovers out there...] Between that and another kid declaring yesterday that islands didn't exist, since technically, we live on an island (also known as a continent...), it's been an entertaining couple of days.

On Thursday I woke up disoriented and thoroughly confused, thinking I was still student teaching...Why am I still student teaching? Shouldn't I have been done with that a couple weeks ago? Today I woke up giddy thinking about kicking back and drinking a glass of vino tonight.

I have a comrade across the hall! Katie and I are in the same boat - new teachers, living with our parents (ha!), and we haven't a clue what we're doing. Every day after school we ensue in our daily therapy session. It's cathartic. Our excuse for chit-chatting is that we're "collaborating"...he he. It's an understatement to say that she's kept me sane this week!

I refuse to look at schoolwork tonight. Tomorrow at 9am I'll check back into reality, but until then, I am going to blissfully ignore all lesson plans and curriculum maps and quizzes and poems and IEP's and e-mails and grammar books and...

It's only Wednesday?

I'm catching on: finally picked up my mail today. Well, I have a caveat at Lakeville South High School since I don't have a mailbox there yet (notice that I'm not rallying the troops for one, either... that would mean I would be responsible for even more papers to keep track of). The sweet secretary Jean over here at North High School kindly reminded me to pick up my mail. I wish I could say that it was on my radar, but honestly, the thought never occurred to me, "I have a mailbox. Pick up your mail." You think I'm crazy, but it's funny the things that have been topping my priority list these last three days.

To no surprise, my passenger side has morphed into my traveling teacher's trash receptacle. The current tally: 3 lunchable containers, 4 nutri-grain bar wrappers, 1 plastic bag, and 1 empty McDonald's 16oz coffee cup.

Here's my teaching schedule:
Periods 1 & 2: Goals at Lakeville South High School
3: Travel to North High School/lunch/prep time
4: Academic Writing
5: Goals
6: Creative Writing

Here's my teaching schedule, the unedited version:
1 & 2: "Listen kiddos, read a novel, because I don't have your stuff yet."
3: Jet to the bathroom, pack up my crap, speedwalk through the high school, jump into my car, unwrap lunchable, put car in gear, simultaneously drive, eat, and shout sassy comments to slow drivers ("Hey, drive faster lady, I'm trying to educate your children, here!"), enter Lakeville North, swing by the copy room for Kristi and Nancy to make all my copies that I need... uh... next hour, unlock room, plan, visit, visit, plan, stare at wall thinking of lesson plan ideas, wonder how I'm going to make it through the day.
4: This is the class period where I am seriously pretending like I know what I'm doing. This week, they're writing a personal essay. Next week? You think I know what I'm doing next week?
5: "If I see your cell phone one more time..."
6: Breath-of-fresh-air class. Fishbowl discussion today, kids got philosophical, wrote some cool poems in the style of Langston Hughes' "Theme for English B."

Tonight I start volunteering as a leader at my church. I'll be co-leading a group of 8th grade girls through confirmation. I decided that if I start right away with that commitment, it will just be a natural part of my schedule. I don't want to turn into a TOTAL hermit, yah know...

My mind is fuzzzy

Ok, it's been my mission today to ask as many teachers as I could if it's normal to be planning the next day's lesson the night before. I am glad to report my findings: all 5 of the teachers I asked gave me a resounding "YES, that is normal, you are not crazy, and this is my (15th, 8th, 22nd) year of teaching and I still do that."

Phew. One less thing to carry around: the guilt of not having my entire week planned out.

My mentor Lora stopped by after school today and it was a breath of fresh air to talk with her. She encouraged me to ask teachers as much as I can what they are doing in Academic or Creative Writing - and to just downright steal their lessons. I voiced my concern of "would teachers be put off by my taking their lessons?" and her response was absolutely not. Teachers do it all the time, she said, and it's all a part of collaboration and teaching. Don't reinvent the wheel - talk to someone and get materials to work with. Why kill myself? I've got enough on my hands with classroom management, grading, running like a maniac between schools, etc, etc. Lora also told me the story of a long-term sub last year that had a nervous breakdown... the brave who have fallen before me....

Lesson of day 2: Par down my expectations of myself (I will not have the entire semester planned out by Saturday, I will not have the entire semester planned out by Saturday...). Ask for help. Get ideas from teachers. Let go of the fear of being annoying. Eat a banana after 5th hour for energy. Keep stash of chocolate in drawer for emergencies. Remember to pee before 4th hour.

I survived!

I made it.

My thoughts of the day, in list form:

1. I don't have a gol-darn clue what I'm doing tomorrow in Academic Writing (I have a topic - "The Writing Process" - does that count?).
2. I don't really care that I don't have a clue, because I'll figure it out tonight.
3. I felt like a million bucks speed walking around the school with my name badge, opening locked doors with my keys, making copies and introducing myself as "Miss Morreim."
4. Last, but not least, I loved every minute of today. Ok, maybe not the 3 times I was mistaken for a student ("What?! You teach here?"), but every other minute, I loved.

[Check back with me on #4 by Thursday]

D-Day

Tomorrow is my first day of teaching.

[holy crap]

It has been a whirlwind of a week. Last Friday was my last day of student teaching. This was the phase of "getting a real teaching job in the future is a far-off and distant thing...and it seems so nice in theory." Saturday, I moved out of Eau Claire and back into my parent's place. (I'm working on that one...but the free food, laundry service, and friendly company - i.e., my dog Harley - are enough to keep a girl happy for a time). On Monday, I got the call that I got the job. Tuesday, started coughing, slept all day = bronchitis. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday are a blur of too many trips to Office Max, Target, and Walmart and shoving around chairs in my classroom.

On Friday I had a breakdown. I couldn't breathe through my nose, icky stuff was coming out of my lungs, I missed my friends, I didn't have a thing planned for Monday let alone the entire semester, and the reality of a full-time job finally hit me. At the prodding of Lance, I gave up on life and went to bed at 7pm. 13 hours of sleep did me some good.

If you want to know what I'm really thinking, I'm wondering if my students will know that I'm barely a step ahead of them in the class. I'm wondering if I have what it takes to be a teacher, and I keep asking God that question. I also keep asking God if He thinks I can actually do this. Here's the thing: it's not pretend anymore. I'm in my own classroom (all by myself) and it's up to me to teach those kids how to write a thesis, or what a dangling modifier is, or how to channel their lost child into the best damn haiku they've ever attempted to write. I've been entrusted by those who hired me to do a good job and to earn the paycheck I'll get.

I reached a point today where I thought that a bare-bones sketch of the week was good enough, and I resigned myself to not being able to plan out the entire semester in one day. I just took a swig of NyQuil in the hopes of helping my lungs out a little. I will just have to get up tomorrow morning and plunge right in.

Jumping from theory into practice is a whole new animal.