Thankful for life...

Today for Social Studies, I had the students make Thanksgiving cards where they drew a picture of something they are thankful for. The typical answers came out – video games, gaming systems, sports, and family. Several students even wrote about their teacher.

Some were sweet:

(Picture of Mr. Lin with what looks to be a crown or a halo)

“I am very thankful for my teacher Mr. Lin. Mr. Lin thinks about his students and cares about them. Having Mr. Lin as a teacher is like a lifetime experience.”

Some were hilarious:

(picture of Mr. Lin wielding a stick)

“I’m thankful because Mr. Lin let me live. His favorite catch-phrase is “stop jibber-jabbering.”

In his work “The Prince,” Nicolo Machiavelli discussed the role of a leader and whether it is better for a leader to be loved, or better for a leader to be feared. In a scenario where a leader can only have one or the other, his conclusion is that it is better for the leader to be feared and respected than to be loved. However, it is best to be both loved and feared.

Teachers are the leaders of our classrooms. Hence, we NEED to be feared, but we want to be loved as well. From these Thanksgiving Day cards, it looks like I might be getting a healthy amount of both!

Holding onto The Rock

 

“I can fix most things, but I can’t fix a broken heart.”

 Those words are etched into my memory, written as the Facebook status of my close friend – an extraordinary carpenter and private contractor who is also the strongest, toughest, guy I know. His feats of super human strength are stuff of legend amongst our circle, including a time where he lifted a 650cc motorcycle into the back of his van with his bare hands, and another time where he snared (with one hand) a rope that was holding me an instant before I plummeted 400 feet towards the ground – close to 200 pounds of person + gear + momentum.


Unfortunately, the frailty of the human heart goes beyond physical strength and toughness. And, when those we are close to are hurting, we feel their pain as well. It’s interesting how, in all the years of human civilization, there has been a cure for many things. But the cure for a broken heart has been ever so elusive.

Some time ago, in one of my darkest hours, this same friend came to my house at midnight and dragged me out to the New River Gorge for some therapeutic rock climbing. This past weekend, it was climbing therapy part deux. The two of us, a third kindred spirit, and a fourth friend got in my 2000 Chevy Tahoe, and headed out to West Virginia. In our varying stages of brokeness, we listened to country music, ate Chick-Fil-A, told stories, and generally forgot about life as we took the 5+ hour ride to our prescribed rock. That is, until we saw some flashing lights behind us.

Ryan: "Shoot. Cop."
Me: "Maybe I can play the Veteran’s card. You know, since it's Veteran's Day and all."

(short wait as the police officer walks up)

Officer Un-American: "License and registration."
Me: "Any chance you can give me a break? I’m a Veteran…"
Officer Un-American: "Any chance you can not speed on my highway?"(spits tobacco)

I guess my shaggy hair precluded any notion that I could have possibly been a member of the armed forces.

Despite the short delay, the trip was a success. 2 solid days of clinging precariously onto small crimps and cracks in the wall was the respite we all were seeking. Although the troubles of the world still existed, the focus we had on climbing made everything else bearable. The rock we hung from and scaled was our salvation - it’s as if the analogy of a wise, ancient man was echoing in the still beauty of the wilderness that surrounded us. Later, as we made our way back to civilization, I knew that the relief that we felt was dissipating as we drifted further from the rock walls we were climbing.

In the frenzied pace of a busy job site, concerned clients, or a 5th grade classroom, it is hard to remember the peace that is delivered by the One that can fix anything, even a broken heart.

Many moons ago, when Ryan came by to convince me that a climbing trip was what my heart needed, the journey seemed incredibly long. However, it was only short drive away, made even shorter by the friends around me and the rock I would soon look up at. My healing would begin that day. I just had to choose to take that ride.

Naked at Work

I was naked at work on Tuesday.

That day, I ran out of the house without my clothes. Ever since man has succumbed to the overwhelming temptation of Apple, clothes have become an essential part of our lives. Aside from its most basic function, clothes also have many other useful applications. The right clothes even help us get places. Without my clothes, I was completely naked. Do you know how hard it is to get through a day without your clothes? Today at recess:

2nd Grade Teacher: “What time is it?”

Me: “I have no idea. I left my clothes at home.”

Wait, what? Now that you’re wondering if you’ll be seeing me on the news tonight for indecent exposure, go ahead and replace the word ‘clothes’ with the word ‘iPhone.’ I doubt I feel alone when I say I feel completely naked without my cell phone. And, like clothes, we often forget the importance and usefulness of a smart phone until we are without it.

This got me thinking. Often, when there is something wonderful introduced into my life, I often get accustomed to it and eventually begin to regard its presence as normal. If you’re anything like me, the day you got your iPhone (or Droid, or any other cool gadgety phone) was spent playing with the many functions and downloading cool apps. Then, after a few weeks of playing with my new toy, I got somewhat bored with it. Sure, I took it out when I needed it, but mostly I took for granted that I would never be bored at a stop light because of Angry Birds, I’d never be lost because of the built in GPS, and my fantasy football lineup would always be set on time because of my ESPN Fantasy Football App. Being without my phone for a day made me realize how much I depend on it.

Why is it that we often stop cherishing the things that we depend on the most?

In the corporate world, it’s often said that 20% of the people do 80% of the work. In the teaching world, 20% of the kids require 80% of the teacher’s attention. We make positive behavior charts that reward them for acting in the way that they’re supposed to be acting – the way that the rest of the class already knows how to act.

Because those 20% require so much attention, it’s easy to take for granted the kids that make my job easier. Those kids are my iPhones – in the beginning of the year I noticed how responsible they were so I began to rely on their help. They help me take attendance, sharpen pencils, change my daily calendar, and check to see if I have notes from parents. They listen attentively, work well in groups, and always have their homework and classwork complete. No behavior chart is required for them because they are already doing the things they are supposed to be doing. And, I’ve gotten so used to their help that most days I forget how much easier they make my life.

Today, as a reward for their hard work, I brought a few of my students out for pizza. We talked about soccer, football, books and authors they love, their families, and their homes. They talked about things in their everyday lives, some of which are almost unfathomable to those of us who have always had the basic needs of food, shelter, clothes, and love. These amazing students were so excited that they all wanted to be the last one dropped off afterwards. It was as if they – not me – were the ones that had something to be thankful for.

It’s easy to take my iPhone for granted. However, I know how much easier it makes my life. A couple hours of my time and an $18 pizza? That’s the best 1-year contract a guy can get for this convenience. I guess that’s what you would call a teacher discount!

Guest Post - Amidst a Sea of Costumes

Yesterday was Halloween and, unlike many teachers across America, I did not dress up. Not because I'm a Christian and think that it's wrong to celebrate , but because I'm too lazy and uncreative to do so. One conversation in my class from yesterday:

Student: "Mr. Lin, how come you didn't dress up for Halloween?"

Me: "I AM dressed up. I'm a mean teacher for Halloween. Here's your homework, get it done before you go trick-or-treating."

As such, I thought the best thing to do was have another teacher - one who is both kind AND creative - that DID dress up with her class for Halloween write a post for me. The following is a guest post by teacher extraordinaire Kate B. It's her first of (hopefully) many posts, and I for one am excited to hear the reflections and stories of another teacher. Without further ado...


Amidst a Sea of Costumes

If you asked a teacher the ease of effectively facilitating 25 children on a normal school day, you’d probably get a ranking in the “Manageable” range.

If you asked a teacher the same question but on Halloween… The score would vary from “Slightly effectively” to an off-the-charts score of “Woah!”

All I can say is that I am glad the parents are the ones back in charge of the children after we send them home all sugared up post-Halloween bash. Decorating those cupcakes today was super cute and hilarious. However, I’d go to say that the most interesting may be how it affected them about 30 minutes later.

 Hey everyone, I’m Kate: Fellow teacher; lover of children; restored by sunshine, sports, quality conversation, hugs, sarcasm, and laughter; passionate about making a positive impact for the greater good of the upcoming generations, both as individuals and as a society.

And while nurturing the growth and development of children is one of my first loves, I have to admit I so easily get caught up in the details. Emails, grading, professional development, differentiation, new curriculum, meetings… it’s… a lot.

But yesterday, in the midst of the chaos of a Halloween party with tables of frosting, crayons, “Mystery Boxes”, sound effects, and more… there was a sweet utterance of beauty, innocence, and life.

It was incredibly refreshing to hear the playful banter. To see the colored frosting on the rims of their mouths as they laughed. To watch them romp around in costumes, exuding life and the purest of joy. To be part of the joking, the hugs, the encouragement.

Somehow, I found my focus in the most chaotic of school days…

My eyes reopened, my heart refreshed… kids, in all that they truly are, are why I teach.