Three Wise Boys

Teaching is hard for me this year.

I have a wonderful bunch of kids, but the reality of increased class sizes paired with decreased aide support leaves me feeling like I'm stretched impossibly thin.  Like I'm not giving my students all they need, all they deserve.  Many days I go home feeling defeated, feeling like I hardly even got to talk to some of my kids, let alone teach them.

At night I lay awake thinking of all the holes I need to fill in their understanding of words and numbers.  But the holes are numerous and I am only one.

I'm giving my all this year and it's not enough.

That is the searing truth that rumbles in the pit of my stomach and snaps my eyelids up like window shades at 2:13 in the morning.

Today was one of those days.   I woke in the small hours of the morning, trying to solve this puzzle, to put the pieces together in a new way that creates a better picture.  The solution eluded me, slipped away as the moon and sun changed guards.

I went to work exhausted.  I had a good day with my kids, they all put forth their best effort and so did I.  We are loving the nearness of Christmas and simultaneously feeling the pangs of being away from each other for two and a half weeks.

After school, I sat in my room overwhelmed by all the little tasks that had to be accomplished before I could even think about big things like lesson plans for January.

And then a familiar face poked his head in my door.

I knew this face when he was a first grader in my class a few years ago.  This face, this little boy, will have my heart forever.  This was the face of the boy who belted out his solo in our class musical and brought the house down.  He peeked in and I hugged him tight, noticing how he comes up to my armpits, remembering how he used to barely come up to my waist.  Time is such a quick bird, flying away with little children and returning them to me as adolescents.

I asked him if he'd come by to help.  Many are the children who pop in after school wanting to help, wanting a little extra time to talk.  He said he'd be happy to help and I sent him with a note to his after school care teacher.  He returned a minute later with the okay from his teacher and with another boy in tow.  This boy has the most expressive eyes.  The second boy asked if he could help, too.  Suddenly all those little tasks that were stacked up against me didn't seem so daunting.  The second boy returned with the okay from his after school care teacher and when he returned, he brought with him a third boy.  The third boy was another former student, a boy with a sensitive spirit and impish dimples.  These three boys set about sharpening pencils, filing, cleaning my boards, washing dishes, and while they worked, they talked.

They talked about all the things we did when they were in first grade.  About the Mr. Bear Crime Scene Investigation unit.  About the leprechaun who left tiny green footprints all over our desks and turned our milk green.  About the pleasure of choosing a book out of the Santa sack.  About our 100th day Olympics.  About the piles and piles of books we'd written.

"We really had some great times together, didn't we?"  I smiled at them.  "I'd forgotten about a lot of those things."

And then the boy who will always have my heart said "Maybe we should write you a list of all the fun things we did so you'll remember them and remember to do them with your class."

"I'd like that.  I'd like that a lot."  And that's the truth.  Because somewhere this year I've let myself only see my failures.  I'd lost sight of some of the magic, some of the sparkle of teaching young children.

Half an hour later, all the little jobs were finished.  As were my lesson plans for the next month.  I hugged these three angel boys and told them that their help had been the best Christmas gift.  Then the boy who'd belted out a solo so many years ago told me he'd see me tomorrow at the school sing-a-long because he was in the choir.

"I always knew you were a singer."  I grinned.

"I remember you telling me that."  he replied.  And in that moment, we were both so full, so content with memories of our year together.

Before they left, one boy asked if he could have one of the pencils they'd sharpened.  And so I paid them each with a brand new pencil, such a small price to pay for the important lessons they taught me today.

[caption id="attachment_2432" align="aligncenter" width="320" caption="Image from beaktweets.blogspot.com"][/caption]

Thankful Thursday #3

This week I'm thankful for...

• the little girl who told me that I have beautiful hair like a movie star.  I didn't ask which one because I thought I'd just better leave well enough alone.


• walking my old neighborhood with my mom


• the jar of peppermint nougat Christmas tree candies my mom gave me


• falling asleep to the sound of rain


• the light of the Christmas tree


• sitting on my couch reading O magazine after a rough day at work


• my student who got a paper cut on her finger and said, "It feels like my finger has a headache."


• the dragonfly necklace my friend made me for Christmas


• the little boy, who moved away earlier this year, and called me this week to tell me all about his new class, his new house, and to tell me about his letter to Santa.  I only told him I missed him 7 times.  And my eyes only watered a little bit when it was time to say goodbye.


• my friend, Abby, who was featured here for the stunning necklaces she creates


• Christmas music on Pandora

What are you thankful for?

In Which I Am Famous

Today my friend, Laura, sent me the following text:

"Hey, did you know you are on the back of 'Biking the Best'?  How cool are you?"

Biking the Best is a booklet of maps of twenty-four of the best road rides in and around Shasta County.  I did not know I was on the back cover and I have to say it went to my head a little bit.  This was my reply.

"Send me a photo of it.  Wait, am I upright?"

Unfortunately, that is a valid question on my part.

"Yes, you're upright.  It's a picture of a bunch of people at a rest stop."

Laura sent the photo to my phone but I couldn't quite make it out.

"Oh good.  I was afraid it was when I fell over or something.  How do I get my own copy so I can brag about being big and famous?  And do you want me to autograph yours?"

Laura called a minute later and asked if I wanted to meet her at the bike shop because she was going to buy a copy.  Of course I wanted to buy my Very Own Copy.  I think she was actually buying it for the routes.  I, on the other hand, felt compelled to buy it because I was obviously the star of the book.  And bike routes are nice, too.  That way when I get lost because I didn't look at the map in the first place I can still find my way back home.

So I puffed up my chest and strode into the bike shop.  Funny thing is, nobody in the shop stopped and asked for my autograph.  They didn't even recognize me.  Didn't they know the back cover model of "Biking the Best" was in their presence?

I swaggered over to the counter and picked up a copy.  I didn't bother to flip through the routes.  Instead I turned right to the back cover.  And sure enough there were a bunch of my cycling friends.

"Are you sure I'm in this picture?  I don't see myself."  I said to Laura.

"Yep, you're right there in your Fat Cyclist jersey.  See?"  She pointed.

I squinted.  A lot.  And sure enough there I was.  Looking like an idiot.  True, I am upright in the photo, but that's the best thing I can say about it.  I apologize for the grainy quality of the photo.  It's a photo of a photo, but you'll get the gist.



Do you see me?  No?

I'm the one on the right.

Further right.

Yeah.  That one.

I have no idea what I was reaching for back there.  My only guess is that I had a sock stuck in my jersey or something.

Still, I'm happy to autograph your copy of the booklet.  In fact, you probably won't mind if I sign in big, black permanent marker, right?  And I have a long name so you might not even be able to see my photo underneath the autograph.  And wouldn't that be a shame.

Dragonfly Lady

In November I heard the eloquent Charlie Price talk about his writing process and read some of his latest work.  After the reading I had a serious Fan Girl Moment wherein I asked him to sign one of his books and then I gushed all over about how I'm a member of Writers Forum and so is he and isn't it great that we're both in it together and that we're both writers, well, one of us is an aspiring writer, and isn't writing just the best and I just love teaching kids to write and could he please, please sign my book?

Sigh.  I am a superdork.

He was lovely about it all and asked if I was going to read anything at the upcoming bi-annual Writers Forum read aloud.  I shook my head and explained that I probably wouldn't read because I am terrified, absolutely horrified, of speaking in public.  Which is actually an improvement, believe it or not.  Charlie encouraged me to read and I told him I'd think about it.

Well, I did think about it.  And I decided to do it, to ignore my profusely sweating armpits and just suck it up and read.  The rules of the read aloud are simple: You have five minutes to read something you've written.  At four and a half minutes you get a thirty-second warning.  At five minutes you get the hook.

I did not want to get the hook.  I was sure if I did, I would melt into a big sweaty puddle of embarrassment.  So I dug through my archives and weeded out pieces that were too short or too long.  I whittled it down to two pieces, one a funny piece and one a piece written during the most difficult time of my life.  I loved writing them both, but writing the latter piece was one of the things that helped me survive that time.

I thought to myself what if, just what if, I not only took the chance to read aloud, but instead of hiding behind humor, what if I laid down all my masks and read something that mattered, something that exposed vulnerability?

Ooh, that would be risky, scary even.

But maybe it would be worth it.

Saturday morning at Writers Forum, I swallowed my pride along with a big bundle of nerves and signed up to read.  I was ninth in line, meaning I sweated through eight other readings before it was my turn.  There were some great writers in that room, writers who softened my heart and writers who made me laugh so hard my stomach hurt.

And then it was my turn.  I was impossibly nervous.  Oh, Lord, when will speaking in public get easier?

I stepped up to the microphone and I read this piece.

My heart was pounding and at some point during the reading I seemed to lose contact with my legs.  I don't know if it was because my heart was pounding in my ears, but it seemed to me the only sound in the room was my voice.  My timid voice, reading about dragonflies of all things.  Reading about how dragonflies helped me pick up all the broken pieces.

After I finished reading I sat down and waited for the feeling to return to my legs.  At the break, many people came up to me and said kind things about my piece.  Charlie Price, the Charlie Price, was sitting next to me and said some of the nicest things I've ever heard about my writing.  I was touched and humbled.

The woman sitting on the other side of me called me the Dragonfly Lady.  And I kind of like it because, dear reader, I'm happy to say I no longer live in that mire.  I have shed my sorrowful skin and I'm winging my way through this beautiful life.

Dragonfly Lady, yup, I can live with that, especially because dragonflies have six legs.  So the next time I'm reading some of my writing aloud and I lose feeling in my legs, I'll rest easy in the knowledge that I've got four more to stand on.

 

[caption id="attachment_2392" align="aligncenter" width="343" caption="When raising dragonflies at school, I was surprised and delighted at the spot this new dragonfly chose to rest."][/caption]

Stuff It: Yet Another Embarrassing Bike Story

I am trying desperately, urgently to lose five pounds.  Five evil pounds with their horrid little claws clinging tenaciously to my buttocks.  I have been duking it out with these last five pounds for months.

Months.  Plural.  As in since October.

So there I was in spin class Monday night, ready to throw down with the Flab Five.  I was wearing a shirt and shorts.  Two pairs of shorts, actually.  Nobody in my spin class wears only Spandex shorts and if you've ever been the only one in the room in Spandex, you know it's a less than comfortable feeling.  But I love me some Spandex.  It wicks, not to mention the joy of extra butt padding.  So I ride with double shorts.

Spin class started just fine.  I was killing it.  My legs were speedy quick and I kept cranking up the tension.  I was in the zone.  I am never in the zone.  I could just see skinnier thighs in my future.

And then I felt something funny in my Spandex.

Something lumpy and soft and a teensy bit scratchy.  Something definitely not the slick, slidy polyester goodness of Spandex.

I didn't know what to do.

There was no way I was getting off my bike and heading to the bathroom to take care of it.  The bathroom is far away and spin class is only 45 minutes long.  I had those last five pounds in my sight and I was not going to miss a single second of spin class.

But there was no way I was reaching down in there in a roomful of people.  Besides who knows what I would have pulled out.  It could have been something as innocuous as a dryer sheet, but knowing my luck, it more likely would have been my most shameful pair of undies.

So I decided to ignore it, to put my mental game to the test.  I've got mental game to spare.  The foreign object was trapped in my Spandex just below my right hip.  I could deal with that.  I've ridden with much worse things many a time.

When we stood up to climb, my quads were shredding the hill.  I kept turning the tension knob up higher and higher.  I was owning the zone.

And then the lumpy thing started to inch its way over and down to, uh, um, a more centralized location.

I was already sweating buckets, but I could feel my face flush even deeper.  As I hammered away on the bike, I whispered a prayer of thanks for having pulled on double shorts.  I loosened up the drawstring on the outer pair to disguise the monkey business that was happening in my nether regions.  I fidgeted to try to get the thing to move back over to a less uncomfortable area.  No dice.  Instead it relocated further South.

I looked down and there was a giant bulge where no woman should have a bulge.  If it were possible to die of embarrassment, I'm sure I would have keeled over on the spot.

Several times I nearly worked up the nerve to reach in and pull out whatever it was that was ailing me.  But the thing about spin class is there really isn't anywhere to put stuff.  I didn't have a bag or a purse I could nonchalantly drop said object into.  Even if I'd gone on a rescue mission, I would've then had to stop pedaling, unclip from my bike and walk to the trash can in the front of the room to deposit whatever treasure I retrieved from the recesses of my shorts.

Absolutely.  No.  Way.

So for the remainder of the class, I tried not to fidget, lest things shift into a more precarious position.  I tell you, never in my life had spin class felt so long.  Whatever was down there had gone from mildly scratchy to just this side of sandpaper.

When the class was over and I was back in the privacy of my own home, I peeled off my shorts and there crumpled up in a sweaty wad was a sock that had been missing since laundry day.

Yep, I'd stuffed my shorts for spin class.

I feel like there are some jokes ripe for the picking here.  Something about sock monkeys or 'socking it to you' or something along those lines, but the truth is on Monday night I gained an iota of respect for anyone who can walk around for more than five minutes with a sock in their pants.  My hat is off to them.

Apparently my socks are, too.

Thankful Thursday #2

This week I'm thankful for...

• my grandmother's nativity set.  It's carved from olive trees harvested in Bethlehem.


• playtime with my nephew


• Christmas ornaments from all the places Terry and I have traveled


• Terry's vanilla pancakes on a Sunday morning


• Advent


• Christmas carols during Sunday morning church service


• Knowing I pushed as hard as I could in spin class.


• Sitting by the light of the Christmas tree


• peppermint hot chocolate


• online Christmas shopping


• walking the neighborhood in the misty air

What are you thankful for this week?

Top 10 Christmas Carols

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A few years ago, one of my students made me a CD of Christmas carols and other holiday songs.  He picked the songs out with his family and it is a gorgeous, GORGEOUS compilation of songs.

Today the pouring rain trapped my little ones inside and they were sort of antsy.  And by 'sort of antsy' I mean, out of their minds antsy.  We did all the regular things to combat being stuck inside like lots of singing and dancing, but still their little bodies were wiggling and squiggling all over the place.

Until I put on that CD.

They were mesmerized, soothed even, by the music.  I played it quietly in the background and they settled in and even sang along.  It was like we'd taken a collective deep breath.  I looked around the room at my smiling, working, humming, singing little ones had one of those blessed teaching moments where I just stood still for a second and enjoyed being in their presence.

And so, I'm thinking maybe your life is busy like mine.  Maybe you are antsy about some things and are about to wiggle right out of your skin.  Maybe you need a moment of tranquility to stop and enjoy your life and the presence of those blessed to be in it with you.  Maybe you're like me, in need of a song to soothe your soul, to acquaint you with all that is good and pure and holy.

Here are my 10 favorites this year:

10. River by Sarah McLachlan. I wish I had a river I could skate away on.  Alas, ice skates+me=one very bad idea.  So I'll just have to listen to the song and dream.

9. The Holly and the Ivy by the Virginia Girls Choir and Ana Hernandez This one reminds me of high school choir, of singing at the Madrigal Dinner.  The members of the Virginia Girls Choir sing with such purity and innocence that it leaves me in awe.

8. The Night Before Christmas by Brandon Heath I love, love, love this one.  I usually have to listen to it several times in a row before I can move on to the next song.  So when you download this one and have to play it over and over again until your family throws things at you to make you stop, just remember I warned you.

7. Ring the Bells by Travis Cottrell featuring Natalie Grant Remember when I said you'd want to play that last one over and over again?  Well, multiply that by 100 for this one.  If you're feeling blue, this song is the cure.

6. Christmastime is Here by Vince Guaraldi Trio Just put on some feetsy pajamas and snuggle up under a blanket.  This one is an express train back to childhood.  Sit back and enjoy the ride.

5. Silent Night by Yo-Yo Ma I do not know how Yo-Yo Ma makes such rich sounds come out of his cello, but you will love this one by the lights of the tree.  You will love it in your car.  You will love it pouring out of your earbuds in the grocery store as the children behind you in line cry and scream.  You will smile at those children, even if they are your own children.  That's how great this song is.

4. What Child is This by Andrea Bocelli with Mary J. Blige Okay, get close because I'm going to tell you a little secret.  I don't even like this song. I'll probably get one of my Christian cards taken away for saying that, but I don't like this song.  At least I didn't like it until I heard this version of it.  Mary J. Blige will break your heart with her raw emotion and then Andrea Bocelli will put it back together again.

3. Winter Snow by Chris Tomlin featuring Audrey Assad From the piano solo at the beginning to Audrey Assad's earthy voice to the harmonies with Chris Tomlin, this song just wraps its arms around you.  If you need to be reminded of the gentleness of God, take a moment to close your eyes and let yourself fall in love with this song.

2. Breath of Heaven (Mary's Song) by Amy Grant As a kid I used to wonder what Mary was thinking with the Son of God, you know, gestating inside her and all of that.  Did she ever think maybe God should have picked someone else?  Did she ever feel alone because she was the chosen one?  This song is sung from Mary's perspective and I love it because I think maybe Mary wasn't so different than you and I.  Maybe sometimes she doubted herself, felt alone, and needed the very breath of heaven to help her keep it all together.

1. O Holy Night by Celine Dion Admittedly, I'm not a Celine Dion fan, but that girl can sing and when she sings my most favorite of all Christmas carols, everything else fades away.  This one gives me goosebumps and makes me cry every single time.  It's Terry's favorite, too, and let me tell you, when we sing this one in church we are a sight to behold, blubbering and singing and wiping our noses and dabbing at our eyes.  So grab a box of tissue and enjoy my most favorite of all Christmas carols:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Jr-2eyRtV4

What are your favorite songs of the season?

Five Golden Rings

Dear Gramma,

The other day when my little ones were lining up to go to lunch, I asked if they wanted to sing a Christmas song on the way to the cafeteria.  We sang Jingle Bells and then one of my little ones asked if we could sing "that one about the 12 things".

My voice caught in my throat and not a single word cracked out.

I stood thinking about singing The 12 Days of Christmas at your house and always hoping, wishing, crossing my fingers that I would get the card that said "Five Golden Rings".  It was my favorite line.  I could only imagine enough golden rings to slide on all the fingers of one hand.  I remember you singing that line in your best warbling Baptist church vibrato.  Your singing voice always made me giggle.

As I stood there watching my little ones pull their jackets on and grab their lunch boxes, I spun the gold ring on my right hand, the one my mom gave me from your trip to Greece together.  It is carved with the Greek symbol for eternity.  We walked to lunch singing and when we got to the part about the golden rings, I sang through the lump in my throat my voice trembling each time until I got to those four calling birds.

Christmas is a hard time to be apart from you.  The tree, the music, the decorations, the food-it all reminds me of you.  Those memories are so sweet.  And I'm thankful for all of them.  I just wish you were here to make more.

But then I turn the ring on my finger and remember that this season, when I am singing of the Christ come to Earth, you are singing with Him for eternity, singing in your best Baptist church vibrato.

I can't think of a sound I'd like to hear more.

Come sing to me in my dreams, Gramma.  Come sing to me about the Christ come to Earth.  Sing to me about eternity.  Sing to me about Heaven where five golden rings are a mere drop in the bucket.

Love,

Alicia

Memory of Rain

Over at 1000 Awesome Things I read a great post on the joy of getting caught in the rain and I couldn't help but think of the day Terry and I got caught in the rain in Cancun last July.

It began as a drizzle, plinking on the marble that surrounded the pool.  We were laying on one of those canopied poolside beds reading our books in the heavy summer air.  I thought the rain would relieve the humidity, but Cancun still breathed down on us.

We didn't care about the rain or the humidity.  We relaxed and watched the drizzle become a steady rain.  And then the steady rain broke open into a deluge.  Never in my life have I seen rain like that!  We set our open books on our stomachs and watched the rain fill the walkways.



Our canopy leaked, gently at first, a drop here, a drop there.  And then the rain came in sheets, rivulets becoming pools where we sat.  It soaked through our towels, our clothes, our books.  It soaked through everything.

We watched others create makeshift umbrellas from towels and shirts as they ran for refuge at the thatched roof bars.  But not us.

Terry and I have been caught in the rain on our bicycles and we've learned that there is a saturation point, a point at which clothing, hair, skin is so sodden with water that it simply cannot contain another drop.  And we had reached that point.  So there was only one reasonable thing to do.

We stripped down to our bathing suits and jumped in the pool.

We were the only two swimming as the rain pelted the surface of the pool, but did not touch our bodies underneath.  We laughed and I kissed Terry, sucking the rain off his bottom lip.  The pool water was so warm, warmer even than the sultry air.

After our swim we dashed back to our canopy, gathered up our wet things, and sat down at an umbrella covered table at an outdoor café.  The waiters cowered in their white uniforms under the awnings, waiting for the downpour to stop.  We giggled at the people dodging from awning to awning trying to stay dry.

But this rain allowed no survivors.

The water puddled up over ankles and the waiters used giant squeegees to usher the water from the marbled paths back into the flowerbeds over and over again.  Men turned Coca Cola crates upside down and stood on them to save their leather shoes.  Terry and I ate lunch, my wet hair dripping on the table.

We walked back to our room in the rain and my arms and legs prickled with goosebumps.  Back in our room we sank into a hot bubble bath.  This is the part of the story where I fast forward.

Ahem.

Later that night I toweled off my wet hair until it sprung up in huge soft curls around my face.  No straight hair allowed in Cancun air.  I wrapped myself in a bathrobe and Terry and I pulled out our books and read some more while the rain pattered a percussion on our patio.

The rain had soaked through all 560 pages of The Poisonwood Bible and the pages crinkled up into waves.  Days later when all the pages were dry, the book was so fat with memories of the rain that it couldn't even begin to close.  That book will never be the same.

And neither will I.

I, too, am fat with memories of that blessed rainy day.

Thankful Thursday #1

I just couldn't give up writing down all I have to be thankful for.  So, I'm going to devote Thursdays to posting what I'm thankful for each week.

My friend, Bonnie, who has just started her 30 Days of Thanks, is partnering with me.  So every Thursday you can stop in and read my list and then click on over to her list.

I like to think of it as a double your pleasure, double your fun kind of thing.  Okay, that might be pushing it a little, but you get the point.

Without further ado, this week I'm thankful for...

• the opportunity to learn new things


• technology that facilitates meaningful instruction


• lunch with friends


• being asked to do writing inservice with my colleagues


• wicking gym clothes


• sandwiches


• tomato soup


• the scent of rain on asphalt


• online Christmas shopping


• packages in the mail


• my MacBook.  I just do not understand the mysterious PC.

What are you thankful for?  Share the love in the comments section.  :)