The Lost Art of Introspection December 24, 2009

One of my students told me recently that a friend of hers was planning to install a TV behind plexiglass in his shower.  He said he was getting bored in the five minutes it took to lather and rinse and wanted a little entertainment as part of his morning routine.  I was shocked by this brief anecdote and obsessed over it the rest of that day.   I know that most people aren’t quite that extreme.  But just in the six years I’ve been teaching school, I’ve watched the electronic world start controlling more and more aspects of my life and the lives of everyone around me, and I’m worried.

Technology has given us so much.  I love seeing my sisters’ facebook status updates and feeling, in a limited sense, like a part of their everyday lives even though I live 1,500 miles away.  There are certainly huge advantages to having instantaneous communication and access to worlds of information that were once beyond our reach.  But what has technology taken away?  What did it replace?  Modern inventions did not fill a pre-existent void.  It wasn’t like people used to sit for hours looking at their hands and wishing for small rectangular boxes that would play music for them or enable the to communicate with friends; they lived full lives.  So what did we lose?

Spinning Plates December 21, 2009

It can be a lonely world for an English teacher.  While many of my colleagues can manage a two or three day turnaround on homework, I struggle and fight and work late nights to maintain a two or three week turnaround.  The inbox piles up higher and higher each day, and many evenings and weekends are spent on this mindnumbing and utterly unrewarding task–akin to digging holes in soft sand.  You can dig and dig and dig all day, sweating and toiling and burning for endless hours in the hot sun without making any visible progress.

Grading English papers also happens to be maddeningly subjective, despite the most detailed rubrics.  Personal feelings must be put aside as you simultaneously try to grade ideas, organization, voice, word choice, sentence fluency, and every little grammatical or spelling error in the entire paper.  And then there are the comments.  After all, you’re not just assigning a letter; you’re also trying to teach writing as you grade, leaving helpful feedback (just the right balance of honest encouragement and constructive criticism, mind you!) that students will theoretically understand, take to heart, and apply with diligence to their next paper.

Oh, and you have to watch your mood as well.  It doesn’t matter how you feel when you’re grading a multiple choice test.  You could be about ready to take a baseball bat to your china cabinet and smash up 12 place settings of Noritake; it won’t affect the student’s grade.  But it you start to feel cranky grading papers, there’s no hunkering down and powering through until you reach the end of the stack.  You have to step away until sanity’s circulation is gradually restored to your cramped and ailing brain.

One of my fellow high school English teachers wrote in her blog about the “Catch-22″ of teaching English: you feel that if you give one more major assignment, it will be the last nail in your coffin.  But you also feel the push from the parents, administration, and the Jiminy Cricket of your own conscience to assign lots and lots of detailed, complex writing assignments in order to provide the highest possible standard of education.

That’s What You Get for Reading Great Books December 15, 2009

In the midst of the monotonous task of grading literary analysis papers, I occasionally run across a line or two that bears witness to the life-altering power of the written word.  There is nothing more thrilling for me than watching a great book shake up a student’s world. The following quote is from a Korean exchange student who, even within the confines of a language not her own, manages to express how deeply Elie Wiesel’s holocaust memoir impacted her.

“When I finished reading Night, I was completely overwhelmed.  I thought, ‘This is a true story, but I can’t believe this is.’  It was too sad to believe that Elie’s father finally died.  It was too cruel to believe that Nazis have done such brutal things to the Jews with no good reason.  It was too hard to believe that Elie had closed his mind towards God ’seven times sealed.’  It was too heartbreaking to believe how much the Nazis and the holocaust changed Elie into such an indifferent person by the end.  It is a book that made me think.”

Stones of Remembrance December 2, 2009

This is an article I wrote for our church newsletter.  The newsletter segment is called “Stones of Remembrance.”  Each month, church members are asked to write about an experience in their lives where God has proven His faithfulness.  So here it is.

The Apostle Paul, we read in 2 Corinthians, was given a thorn in his flesh.  Something in Paul’s life served as a constant source of pain and anguish; a heavy burden for him to carry through his ministry.  Repeatedly, he asked God to take away the thorn, but God would not.

A thorn that has caused deep pain for Tim and me over the last several years is infertility.  We’ve asked God repeatedly to give us a child or suppress our desire for children.  He has not.  The pain of infertility is different from any other types of pain we have experienced: there is no funeral for our loss or consolation for our grief.

So how can a thorn in the flesh be a Stone of Remembrance?

The answer lies in God’s reply to Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).  Thorns have a way of forcing us to rely on God.  Through this trial, God has grown us, changed us, proved his unfailing faithfulness to us, not in spite of our thorn in the flesh, but through it.  It often takes a thorn to show us what we truly are: dependent, weak, and broken.

Time in a Bottle October 12, 2009

The other day at the YMCA, I gave the magazines a cursory glance, grabbed one that looked interesting, and hopped onto an elliptical machine.  I was well into my warm-up before I realized that my workout reading material was a magazine for women ages 40 and beyond.  By this time, most of the ellipticals were full.  Competition for machines can be fierce at the Y, and I didn’t want to interrupt my workout and potentially lose my spot just to get a 3-month-old copy of Better Homes and Gardens or Cooking Light. Even thought I’m still some distance from 40, I thought the magazine could be interesting.  Our culture tells women that there are only three valuable things about us: looks, youth, and health.  What does the world have to say to women who are losing these things?

I guess I should have known.  Nearly every article was about one of three things: how to look prettier, younger, and healthier.  It covered a vast array of topics, from disguising wrinkles or age spots, to highlighting away the grays, to fitting back into your high school jeans.  While masquerading under the guise of “female empowerment,” and “celebrating your time of life,” it was in reality the same message pumped through the media to women everywhere: your looks are not only all you have, but all you are.  Hold onto them for dear life.

Ancient Warrior, Timeless Hero October 11, 2009

I just finished going through Beowulf with my Brit Lit kids.  Now there’s a book that will stand the test of time.  Forget Inkheart. Forget Twilight. Heck, forget Harry Potter. Sit down with a copy of Seamus Heaney’s translation of Beowulf and let it weave its spell.  A thousand years will melt away like ice under the summer sun, and you will hear the clang of swords and feel the ocean spray at the ship’s prow and cower in terror as you watch Beowulf lay his deadly grip upon many a fearful monster. There is a beauty and universality in this epic that is not present in modern pop lit.  Perhaps it is the poetry–the clever kennings, the rhythmic caesuras, the pounding alliteration–that elevates the story to the level of music rather than prose.  Perhaps it is the rich tapestry woven by multi-layered symbols: gold pointing simultaneously to reward and temptation, the dragon (wyrm) representing Beowulf’s duel with fate (wyrd), Grendel and his mother existing as the living embodiment of sin’s curse.

But in the end, I think it’s really all about…Beowulf.

Although there are three formal introductions to the hero, we catch our first true glimpse of his character in the mead hall the night he arrives in Dane-land.  A jealous Danish warrior, Unferth, challenges Beowulf’s skill as a warrior by referencing a time Beowulf lost a swimming competition.

A Modest(y) Proposal September 26, 2009

I learned something new this week: a good message can have a bad effect if repeated too frequently.

Wednesday was our first discipleship group since school began, and I have an outstanding group of girls this year.  I felt like we bonded quickly as we laughed our way through a game of telephone charades, examined this year’s text (McDowell’s More than a Carpenter), and explored the purposes and goals of discipleship groups.  We had some great interaction and time to pray for one another.

Our discussion of discipleship groups in general led to reminiscing about topics from previous years.  One girl mentioned the modesty theme from two years ago, and both seniors rolled their eyes and groaned.  ”The only thing we talked about in girls’ chapels for the first three years I was here was modesty,” said one of the seniors.  ”I got so sick and tired of hearing about it.  It made me feel rebellious.  It actually made me want to dress immodestly.”  

Before and After August 29, 2009

There is truth to the lovely old cliché, ”Be careful what you wish for.”

Here was my ” Back to School To-do list” from last summer:

1.  Research life/teachings of Augustine to enhance unit on early church fathers.

2. Read Lady Windermere’s Fan to determine if it should be added to the summer reading list.

3. Organize file drawer.

Here is my “Back to School To-do list from this summer:

1. Survive.

2. Try not to mess up too much.

3. Repeat steps and 1 and 2 throughout the school year.

After five years in the classroom, I could just about make it through teaching my diverse subjects blindfolded, with one hand tied behind my back.  Sure, I would add a creative assessment here or a more in-depth unit there, but preparation was a matter of tweaking and polishing, not frantically writing quizzes the period before I was supposed to give them (not that I’ve ever done that before…).  Okay, so it had gotten a little old and dusty and, well, boring. But there’s a part of us human beings that likes comfort, familiarity, and getting off work in time to watch Jeopardy.

Are You Ready? August 18, 2009

I should have counted.  I’m pretty sure I heard the above question about 12 times today, but it may have been more.  Today was my first teacher workday back at school after summer break.  It was great to see my friends and colleagues looking trim, tan, and well-rested, as we usually do before the stressful school year commences.  Without fail, every person with whom I entered into conversation today asked within 30 seconds, “Are you ready?”

I didn’t think about the question much at first, but after a while it really started to bother me.  I felt the question building in intensity, breathing down my neck each time it was asked.  “Are you ready?  Are you sure you’re ready?  Are you absolutely, positively sure that you are completely ready to teach those students who are depending on you to be prepared for any and all life circumstances involving synecdoche and Shakespeare??!!!!”  At first, I was casual, nonchalant in my response.  “Sure I’m ready!”  Then it became, “Well, depends on your definition of ready.”  Then it disintegrated into, ”Well, I guess there’s not much I can do about it now!”  Eventually, I was bogged down in a mire of self-doubt, worry, and fear.

My Life as a Reluctant Vegan July 30, 2009

After two esophageal dilations, a trip to the ER because of a blocked esophagus, and a round of nearly every heartburn med on the market, it became clear that there was only one solution to my husband Tim’s debilitating heartburn: extreme changes in diet.  For a long time, I was in denial. 

Surely, I thought, there must be some technique, some procedure, some medication that would work for him and would allow us to continue eating the foods we loved.  Food means a lot to me.   What’s a party without corn chips and seven-layer Mexican dip?  What’s a birthday without cake covered in creamy frosting?  What’s a Friday night without cheesy pepperoni pizza and frothy root beer?  What’s a romantic anniversary without braised chicken simmering in a Port wine reduction?  What’s a stressful day at work without coming home to a pint of Haagen Dazs (or two or three or four)? 

Food, you see, is more than mere sustenance and pleasure to me.  It’s my good wife badge.  I’m not a great housekeeper.  Dust bunnies live long and productive lives under my bed.  My husband has been known to leave the house in pants that didn’t make to the ironing board.  And although I love having people over, the pleasant details of hospitality–artfully folded napkins, umbrellas and maraschino cherries, remembering to put forks on the table–often escape me.  My time to shine is in the kitchen, and even when the floor is not freshly mopped, if I can put a plate of hazelnut-crusted chicken with blue cheese crumbles in front of my husband at night, I feel like Martha Stewart (before she went to jail).