I wasn't planning on writing anything about the happenings going on in the world anytime soon, but I have to write something tonight. I just got done making dinner and was taking a clean up break to listen to some music. Ben Rector's "When a Heart Breaks" came on and my eyes instantly welled up. Tears were falling. I thought about all those innocent people in Paris. Those taken too soon in school shootings. All the people who died in the terrorist attacks of 9/11. And my heart broke because I realized that this world is broken and we are numb to it. I am numb to it.
I vividly remember September 11, 2001. I remember the teachers crying. I remember everyone being very "hush-hush". Other than that, it was a normal school day. I remember going home and sitting on my next door neighbor's couch watching some news channel. We sat there and watched them replay the footage of planes hitting the world trade center. At this time, I had never been to New York City. I had never been on a plane. I had never heard of anything as cruel as this. It was all so foreign to me, that I felt somewhat disconnected to what was happening. I was in 2nd grade...how was I supposed to know this world is actually cruel and unfair? The moment it clicked that something was terribly, terribly wrong was when I looked over at my friend's mom and she just stared at the t.v in disbelief. She wasn't crying. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't doing anything but staring. My 7 year old self knew in that moment that maybe this world isn't all good things. A band-aid won't dry all my tears and fix all my hurt. My mom's hug won't cure all my sadness. Offering someone Dunkaroo's won't always make them treat you nicely. This world is so harsh.
And just like I vividly remember 9/11/01, my sweet class of 4th graders will probably remember November 13, 2015 in the same way. They will remember they had a substitute for half the day. They will remember they took a pre-test for multiplication and they wanted so badly to test out of this unit. They'll remember it was really, really windy. And unfortunately, they'll remember the attacks in Paris. They will remember seeing it on the news and wondering why it happened. They'll remember the look on their mom's face at dinner when it was being discussed. They'll remember realizing that not everyone gets a happy ending and not everyone lives until they're 90. Knowing this--I am heartbroken for them and all the other children across the world that are making these discoveries.
Tonight, thinking about all of these things at once, I was literally brought to my knees. I was on my knees on the kitchen floor crying for this world. The only other time in my life I can remember physically bring brought to my knees and crying was when I got the call that my grandpa passed away. I have no affiliation with Paris. I have never been there. I don't know anybody from Paris. I don't have any friends in Paris. But I am still heartbroken over the state of this world. When I fell to my knees, I felt the need to just start praying. Praying for the victims, the attackers, the family members left behind, France, the innocent children who had their first taste of what this world really is, and anyone else who was affected by this in any way. I prayed for the state of our world and for God to bring hope, peace, and comfort to all.
I know a lot of people will say (and believe) that prayers aren't doing anything. I realize that the prayers said in my kitchen through my tears won't bring back the victims or heal any of the pain from yesterday. But my hope and my belief is in a God that can heal and restore and comfort. He is close to the brokenhearted, and I fully believe He is close to Paris right now.
I challenge anyone who read this to send a text to (or call) loved ones and let them know how you feel. Don't take this luxury for granted because we live in a world in which that can be violently ripped away from you in an instant.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
I love you for giving me your eyes.
As I sit down to write this post, I truly have no idea what direction it's going to take. Normally, I have some sort of idea what I'm going to write about because it has been something on my mind for weeks and I need to write it down to process it. But today, I am writing just for the sake of writing because I don't know what I'm feeling or learning, so maybe writing will help me figure it out?
This semester has been hard. I've cried at least once a week and have wondered how I will make it through the next day, almost every day. I physically feel the stress I am under and sometimes I don't know what else to do besides take a break and watch Netflix (recommendation: How To Get Away With Murder--so good, people) and eat. This is where my mom comes in. Homegirl loves to send me food. Over the summer she sent me a box (yes an actual box) of Chinese food because I was stressed. A couple weeks ago, I was planning my first lesson, and there is a knock on the door. That sneaky gal was up to something again and sent me Benny's AND Campus Cookies. If there was an award show for normal people, Allison Jacobsen would win Mother of the Year every year.
Dear mom,
First of all, thanks for sending me food when I need it most. Duh. I just want you to know how much I love, miss, and appreciate you. I can't tell you how many times I have said, "my mom is literally the best." Since this semester has started, I've thought a lot about how you have made me who I am and how much you loved me when I was younger (and now). There's a certain memory that keeps popping up in my head that reminds me how much you sacrificed for us. I distinctly remember one time when I was younger, maybe 5 years old, when we sat for what felt like hours playing a Rugrats memory game. You know, those card games where you just turn the card over and try to remember where it's match is? One of those. At first when I think about playing that game together I am just so thankful for that time and that I remember it. But when I am babysitting a four year old and I am exhausted from the day and drowning in all my responsibilities and he wants to play a game and I can't even pretend like I have the energy to play a card game with him, that's when I realize how much you loved me. You had two other kids to take care of. Bills to pay. Work to go to. Yet, you still managed to play a silly card game with me while laughing and smiling and making me think it was the best part of your day. I really don't know how you did it. I don't know how you are so gracious to all of your kids even after we say rude things to you. I don't know how you remember every detail of everyone's life even from miles away. I don't know how you've made countless dinners for a family of 5. I don't know how you work so hard and ask for so little. Like honestly, are you superwoman? Thank you for being my first best friend and for being excited to play a card game with me at the end of a long day for you. Thanks for holding my hand when we walked from the car to the store. Thanks for singing in the car with me when we would run "Erin's" when I was younger. Thanks for buying me countless Taylor Swift tickets year after year for that small chance I might meet her. Thank you for telling me not to part my hair in the middle in my school picture in 4th grade (why didn't I listen to you?! Those middle-parted bangs look like a curtain on my face... oh well, you tried). Thank you for sacrificing your life so that your kids' lives will be everything they had hoped for. We don't tell you nearly enough how much you are appreciated. And although I am hundreds of miles away, I am always missing you. I'm always hoping you were in the room next-door (snoring loudly). I am always hoping we could go out to dinner and a movie just because. Always hoping we can swing by Starbucks on the way to school for bagels and water. I don't ever want to think about a day that I will have to live without you because you are by far the most amazing person I know. I love you to the moon and back.
p.s. I love when you send me food <3
p.p.s El Rod's does to-go orders! (I like vegetarian H)
This semester has been hard. I've cried at least once a week and have wondered how I will make it through the next day, almost every day. I physically feel the stress I am under and sometimes I don't know what else to do besides take a break and watch Netflix (recommendation: How To Get Away With Murder--so good, people) and eat. This is where my mom comes in. Homegirl loves to send me food. Over the summer she sent me a box (yes an actual box) of Chinese food because I was stressed. A couple weeks ago, I was planning my first lesson, and there is a knock on the door. That sneaky gal was up to something again and sent me Benny's AND Campus Cookies. If there was an award show for normal people, Allison Jacobsen would win Mother of the Year every year.
Dear mom,
First of all, thanks for sending me food when I need it most. Duh. I just want you to know how much I love, miss, and appreciate you. I can't tell you how many times I have said, "my mom is literally the best." Since this semester has started, I've thought a lot about how you have made me who I am and how much you loved me when I was younger (and now). There's a certain memory that keeps popping up in my head that reminds me how much you sacrificed for us. I distinctly remember one time when I was younger, maybe 5 years old, when we sat for what felt like hours playing a Rugrats memory game. You know, those card games where you just turn the card over and try to remember where it's match is? One of those. At first when I think about playing that game together I am just so thankful for that time and that I remember it. But when I am babysitting a four year old and I am exhausted from the day and drowning in all my responsibilities and he wants to play a game and I can't even pretend like I have the energy to play a card game with him, that's when I realize how much you loved me. You had two other kids to take care of. Bills to pay. Work to go to. Yet, you still managed to play a silly card game with me while laughing and smiling and making me think it was the best part of your day. I really don't know how you did it. I don't know how you are so gracious to all of your kids even after we say rude things to you. I don't know how you remember every detail of everyone's life even from miles away. I don't know how you've made countless dinners for a family of 5. I don't know how you work so hard and ask for so little. Like honestly, are you superwoman? Thank you for being my first best friend and for being excited to play a card game with me at the end of a long day for you. Thanks for holding my hand when we walked from the car to the store. Thanks for singing in the car with me when we would run "Erin's" when I was younger. Thanks for buying me countless Taylor Swift tickets year after year for that small chance I might meet her. Thank you for telling me not to part my hair in the middle in my school picture in 4th grade (why didn't I listen to you?! Those middle-parted bangs look like a curtain on my face... oh well, you tried). Thank you for sacrificing your life so that your kids' lives will be everything they had hoped for. We don't tell you nearly enough how much you are appreciated. And although I am hundreds of miles away, I am always missing you. I'm always hoping you were in the room next-door (snoring loudly). I am always hoping we could go out to dinner and a movie just because. Always hoping we can swing by Starbucks on the way to school for bagels and water. I don't ever want to think about a day that I will have to live without you because you are by far the most amazing person I know. I love you to the moon and back.
p.s. I love when you send me food <3
p.p.s El Rod's does to-go orders! (I like vegetarian H)
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
I'd give all I have honey, if you could stay like that.
As I write the words in the title of this blog, I'm singing along to one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs (Never grow up). If I remember correctly, she wrote this song after spending time with her friend's children. And since I want to spend my life working with children, this song reminds me of the "why" I decided on this particular profession. The lyrics are so simple but so powerful and relevant to what I want to do:
This last school year, I was in the same beautifully chaotic second grade classroom for the entire year. As I was driving away from the school on the last day with the kids, "Never Grow Up" started playing and I just cried and cried. I pray that even if they don't remember my name, or what I looked like, that one day they'll remember the student intern that loved them and made them feel like they could accomplish anything. I most likely won't ever see any of those students again, but I think about them often. They taught me more than anything I had learned in any class at Virginia Tech. It is a privilege to say my job for the rest of my life will be hanging out with kids.
So why am I just now writing this? As some of you may know, I am in grad school here at VT for Elementary Education (duh), and I am in the home stretch of the first summer session, which is 6 weeks long. And I am tired. I am over writing lesson plans. I feel like I am drowning (only sometimes). Stress has taken over, tears have been shed, and thoughts of "can I really do this for the rest of my life" have been creeping in my mind. I definitely need motivation to keep me on track with the job of my dreams, and I know the girls in my cohort will probably need some too (unless I'm the only one who feels a little mentally unstable right now then ~idk~). So, I'm writing an open letter to my future students.
Dear future students:
I am so excited to meet you. Also, you may be nervous for the first day of school with a teacher you have never heard of...but I promise you I am way more nervous. What if I don't teach you right? What if you don't understand how I am trying to explain things to you (which is very likely because I'm horrible at explaining!!)? What if you hate me? Or throw things at me? Well--I don't have an answer for those things right now. But I'm sure when the time comes, we can figure those things out together. Please don't be scared for ____ grade. We will be learning and growing together. Some of you may have not even been born yet. And if you are one of those students, then congratulations because by the time I teach you I will have a few years under my belt and will have a better hold on this teaching thing. Yay, go you! I know there will be tough days, for both of us. I may come into work that day with a raging headache, or any number of things that have nothing to do with you. And I may take that out on you. And if I do, I am so sorry. If I do, I will be playing it over and over in my head for a very long time because you don't deserve that. There might be some of you that don't have houses, parents, or a good home life. There will be some of you that have it so bad, that I may leave the school in tears because my heart aches for you. There will be some of you whose parents are involved and are thriving in the classroom. Each one of you and each one of your situations are so welcome in my classroom. Each of you matters. Even if you don't get treated like you matter, you matter. You deserve to be heard and loved and cherished and held and comforted every day of your life. I won't be around for every day of your life. But I will be around for one school year, and in that school year I pray you understand how much you matter. I haven't met any of you yet, but I know I will love each one of you. I'll love the shy kid who yearns for approval. I'll love the class clown even though he disrupts the class. I'll love the chatty friends who will ~only~ work with each other. I'll love the kid who might know too much about the world at such a young age because of his home life. I'll love every single one of you with every ounce of love I have. Please remember that. And when I have kids, I will give you my full attention at school, even when my life is crazy hectic and hard. You deserve a teacher who is going to fight for you in every way. A teacher who believes in you, and a teacher who encourages you. Future students, you are more important to me than a lot of things in my life right now...and I haven't even met you. That is how much you matter. I pray that our classroom is a safe spot for you and that it is fun and magical and all things good. I can't wait to hear stories about what you did over the weekend and see your faces light up when we exchange valentine's day gifts. There are so many things I am looking forward to in my life, and meeting you is at the top of my list. I will spend the rest of my life working long, undocumented, unpaid hours for you. I will spend the rest of my life complaining about how much work teachers do and how little they are paid. I will spend the rest of my life spending the majority of my day in conversation with 8 year olds. I will spend the rest of my life fighting for you all to succeed. And I can't wait. Because you deserve someone to fight for you and love you (and not all kids have that). So, here I am. Sitting in my house with no AC on a hot June night. Listening to Taylor Swift and writing "you" this letter. Because I needed to remind myself why I am here, in this program. And it's all for you. Taylor Swift sings, "I'd give all I have honey, if you could stay like that". So, I'm giving all I have. I'm preparing myself for long days and millions of lesson plans in hopes that you keep seeing the world through your beautiful innocence... In hopes that your dreams haven't been crushed yet and that spark deep down inside you is still there somewhere, waiting for someone to help it thrive. Every test taken, every project submitted, every penny spent is for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you, and I can't wait to meet you someday.
Love,
Your Future {favorite} Teacher <3
"To you, everything's funny. You've got nothing to regret. I'd give all I have honey if you could stay like that. Oh darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up, just stay this little. Oh darling don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple. I won't let nobody hurt you. I won't let no one break your heart. Yeah, no one will desert you--just try to never grow up"As a {future} teacher, these are words to live by.
This last school year, I was in the same beautifully chaotic second grade classroom for the entire year. As I was driving away from the school on the last day with the kids, "Never Grow Up" started playing and I just cried and cried. I pray that even if they don't remember my name, or what I looked like, that one day they'll remember the student intern that loved them and made them feel like they could accomplish anything. I most likely won't ever see any of those students again, but I think about them often. They taught me more than anything I had learned in any class at Virginia Tech. It is a privilege to say my job for the rest of my life will be hanging out with kids.
So why am I just now writing this? As some of you may know, I am in grad school here at VT for Elementary Education (duh), and I am in the home stretch of the first summer session, which is 6 weeks long. And I am tired. I am over writing lesson plans. I feel like I am drowning (only sometimes). Stress has taken over, tears have been shed, and thoughts of "can I really do this for the rest of my life" have been creeping in my mind. I definitely need motivation to keep me on track with the job of my dreams, and I know the girls in my cohort will probably need some too (unless I'm the only one who feels a little mentally unstable right now then ~idk~). So, I'm writing an open letter to my future students.
Dear future students:
I am so excited to meet you. Also, you may be nervous for the first day of school with a teacher you have never heard of...but I promise you I am way more nervous. What if I don't teach you right? What if you don't understand how I am trying to explain things to you (which is very likely because I'm horrible at explaining!!)? What if you hate me? Or throw things at me? Well--I don't have an answer for those things right now. But I'm sure when the time comes, we can figure those things out together. Please don't be scared for ____ grade. We will be learning and growing together. Some of you may have not even been born yet. And if you are one of those students, then congratulations because by the time I teach you I will have a few years under my belt and will have a better hold on this teaching thing. Yay, go you! I know there will be tough days, for both of us. I may come into work that day with a raging headache, or any number of things that have nothing to do with you. And I may take that out on you. And if I do, I am so sorry. If I do, I will be playing it over and over in my head for a very long time because you don't deserve that. There might be some of you that don't have houses, parents, or a good home life. There will be some of you that have it so bad, that I may leave the school in tears because my heart aches for you. There will be some of you whose parents are involved and are thriving in the classroom. Each one of you and each one of your situations are so welcome in my classroom. Each of you matters. Even if you don't get treated like you matter, you matter. You deserve to be heard and loved and cherished and held and comforted every day of your life. I won't be around for every day of your life. But I will be around for one school year, and in that school year I pray you understand how much you matter. I haven't met any of you yet, but I know I will love each one of you. I'll love the shy kid who yearns for approval. I'll love the class clown even though he disrupts the class. I'll love the chatty friends who will ~only~ work with each other. I'll love the kid who might know too much about the world at such a young age because of his home life. I'll love every single one of you with every ounce of love I have. Please remember that. And when I have kids, I will give you my full attention at school, even when my life is crazy hectic and hard. You deserve a teacher who is going to fight for you in every way. A teacher who believes in you, and a teacher who encourages you. Future students, you are more important to me than a lot of things in my life right now...and I haven't even met you. That is how much you matter. I pray that our classroom is a safe spot for you and that it is fun and magical and all things good. I can't wait to hear stories about what you did over the weekend and see your faces light up when we exchange valentine's day gifts. There are so many things I am looking forward to in my life, and meeting you is at the top of my list. I will spend the rest of my life working long, undocumented, unpaid hours for you. I will spend the rest of my life complaining about how much work teachers do and how little they are paid. I will spend the rest of my life spending the majority of my day in conversation with 8 year olds. I will spend the rest of my life fighting for you all to succeed. And I can't wait. Because you deserve someone to fight for you and love you (and not all kids have that). So, here I am. Sitting in my house with no AC on a hot June night. Listening to Taylor Swift and writing "you" this letter. Because I needed to remind myself why I am here, in this program. And it's all for you. Taylor Swift sings, "I'd give all I have honey, if you could stay like that". So, I'm giving all I have. I'm preparing myself for long days and millions of lesson plans in hopes that you keep seeing the world through your beautiful innocence... In hopes that your dreams haven't been crushed yet and that spark deep down inside you is still there somewhere, waiting for someone to help it thrive. Every test taken, every project submitted, every penny spent is for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you, and I can't wait to meet you someday.
Love,
Your Future {favorite} Teacher <3
Thursday, April 23, 2015
I had the best days with you.
Last Friday night when I was working, I guess there was some sort of father-daughter dance going on. I saw a lot of father daughter pairs coming in to eat, but one pair really stuck with me. This dad walked in with his nervous daughter and checked in at the host stand. He was wearing a tux, while his daughter was wearing a beautiful dress and seemed to have her hair done. They both seemed nervous, but really happy to be there. I'm not sure why but it literally almost took my breath away and I had to take a second to collect myself. It might be because I missed my own dad in the moment, but I also think it just took me back to my childhood (which was incredibly awesome, thanks to my parents), and reminded me of how our heavenly father would be so proud to take us to a father daughter dance.
I know a lot about how much I was loved as a little girl because since I was born my dad wrote me letters and gave them to me in a binder when I turned 18. The entries went from him calling me his "little bug with wild hair" to him asking me why I was so distant with him. That's always really hard to read when I go back and look at those letters. There's a quote by taylor swift (surprise) which I wish I had heard when I was in middle school but it's something along the lines of when making decisions you have to decide as if you are 80 years old looking back on your life-- as a 13 year old girl I'm not going to want to wake up early on a Saturday and get breakfast with my dad, but I know one day I will wish more than anything I can have breakfast with him. So you choose breakfast with your dad on a Saturday. Always. In these letters he wrote about my curiosity, my desire to annoy my brother, and all of our "dates". I can't express enough how much I love those letters. No matter what stage of life I was in, his love for me was unconditional and constant. (side note: both of my parents were this way, but this post applies more to father figures so i'm writing about my dad). Even when I rejected hanging out with him, told him I hated him, and wanted nothing to do with him, he fought for me and loved me and wrote me letters. He pursued me day after day after day, even when I definitely did not deserve it. He showed me grace. He loved me.
When accepting The Lord into my heart, it was so easy for me to see him as a father figure. My dad is great, so then this Heavenly Father probably is too right? I can trust him to pursue me and heal me and comfort me just like my dad did too? The answer is yes. More than that, as great of a dad my dad was/is, God is greater than that. My dad is awesome, but he can't heal my heart (as much as he may want to). But the most important thing my dad did for me was making accepting Jesus so natural for me. I had no walls up, no reservations with it. Dad--I don't know if you realize how big that is for me. My earthly father is the closest thing a dad can get to being like THE heavenly Father. Thank you thank you thank you!!!
Not everyone is as lucky as I am when it comes to fathers, and if that's the case for you, I'm so sorry. Luckily, we all have a heavenly father that fights for us no matter what. He fights for us day after day, even when we curse him, use his name in vain, and straight up just walk away from him. And people who have dad's that reflect the love of the Father are really lucky, but they aren't the only ones with a father who is constantly pursuing them.
In the same way that now I would always choose breakfast with my dad on a Saturday, I also will (try to) choose mornings with my Father. Mornings when all it's all I can do not to crawl back into bed and forget every single responsibility I have for that day. Mornings when I wake up to devastating realizations. Mornings when I have nothing left in me to give. There was a time in which I pushed God away and thought I could do it all on my own and the reality is I can't do any of it without Him. Now I don't know how I ever got by without His strength.
Because of the letters my dad wrote me, I have something tangible to compare the depth of God's love for me. I know my dad loves me infinitely more than I can imagine, but I also know God loves me even more than that. The God of the universe loves me more than a dad who saved me from drowning, a dad who loved me at my actual worst (aka middle school, can I get an amen?), a dad (and mom) who drove 4 hours to my school and then 4 hours back just so I could spend 2 hours at home, and a dad who chronicled his love for me throughout the years in beautifully written letters? I am so lucky. I am so so so loved. You are so lucky and loved, as well!
So, if you're reading this, I encourage you to choose time with the Father (and your own father too!). Thanks, dad (and mom) for being the groolest ever.
*Also, mom, I used capitals and tried to make my grammar more legit just so you would be happy
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