Strength

This morning, I was listening to a song on repeat.  The lyrics below stuck out to me, and got me thinking more about God’s unending grace and love:

“Your love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me. / Because on and on it goes, for it overwhelms and satisfies my soul, and I never ever have to be afraid, this one thing remains, this one thing remains. / Your love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me.” (One Thing Remains, by Jesus Culture)

As a Christian, we often go through seasons in life.  Some seasons feel like an abundance of love and grace are poured out on us, and other seasons feel like the heat and dryness and emptiness of the desert.  For the past year, I have found myself in the desert place, by my own doing.  I came into this year of teaching and left behind my community and friends in Columbus to embark on this adventure in Chicago.  Despite my struggles this year and finding myself in the desert, never for one moment did I question whether or not I was at the center of God’s will.  This creates a strange paradox, but I believe it to be true.  I have spent a lot of time this past year trying to “do life” independently.  At my core, I am a very independent person.  When it comes to big life transitions (like moving to a new city on my own!) this character trait can be both a saving grace, and my biggest flaw.  This past year, I saw it play itself out as both.  While it means I can push through really tough circumstances and focus on the end goal, it also means I can be too independent, and try to do everything on my own.  In reflecting on this past year, I definitely saw a lot of this - trying to do life on my own, apart from God.  Throughout the year, I saw my faith as the reason I was where I was (namely, in a new city, in a hard job, working inhumane hours) and as my motivation behind my work.  However, when it came to the day-to-day grind, I was working on my own strength, trying to push and encourage myself.  I rarely turned to God to say, “Lord, I can’t do this on my own, I need you”.  This conversation with God was rare this year, when it should have been a daily occurrence.  Looking back on the year, there are a lot of things I can be proud of, as I truly have accomplished a lot.  But when I compare this to what I have been told, I know I have accomplished nothing.  Let me explain:

In John 15, Jesus tells the story about the vine and the branches.  Two verses stick out to me: “Remain in me, and I will remain in you.  No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine.  Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” (v. 4-5)

So, in looking back on the past year of working independently, apart from God, there are legitimately things that I have accomplished.  However, I am reminded that I did this independently and on my own strength.  Instead, God has called me (and all believers) to turn to him and depend on him.  Our strength is fleeting, temporary and weak.  His strength and power are never-failing, eternal, and perfect.  Our strength with fail us.  His strength is dependable, constant, and complete. The “fruit” I have borne this year is NOTHING in comparison to what could have been accomplished had I been turning to the perfect source of strength, instead of fighting the battle on my own.  I could come to this conclusion and feel totally defeated and worthless and foolish.  Instead, I have found myself coming to this conclusion hopeful and excited about what will be.  I can’t “re-do” this past year and fix what I did wrong.  I can and should celebrate what has been accomplished, because even if I wasn’t consciously turning to God for help, there is no doubt in my mind that he orchestrated the past year.  When I think about next year, I think about what I get to do differently.  And the first thing that will change is where I am turning to for my strength.  And instead of feeling regret or guilt from what I messed up on, I can be excited and filled with his hope for what is to come.

Blank walls

My students left me on Friday (and by left me, I mean they ran out, screaming and jumping for joy at the start of summer), and I have spent the past week wrapping up end of the year tasks.  One such task was tearing down my classroom and packing it up so they can do a deep clean and repaint the classrooms this summer.  Therefore, every poster is off the wall, my desk is empty, and the bookshelves are free of books.  Filing cabinets have been emptied, and my closet has been carefully arranged to host all these new items in a leaning tower of Pisa-like fashion.  Now, sitting in my bare classroom, I am looking around at the blank walls and empty desks.  I have two thoughts while looking around at the vacant room:

• The sappy/cliché thoughts: I have total freedom to reinvent my room and my class.  Blank walls = a blank slate. As much as I wouldn’t trade this past year for anything, I will be the first to admit that this past year has been really hard.  Coming into teaching, especially in an urban environment, I knew it would be hard, but I don’t think I ever knew just how hard this job would be, and how mentally and emotionally draining it would be.  But, I am very excited to be returning next year, to start (!) to perfect my craft and get better with each passing day.  Looking around the room, I have a visual reminder that I made it, and that I can do whatever I want next year, and not be confined to the self-imposed limits of a first-year teacher.
• The practical/pessimistic thoughts: We come back from summer in 5 weeks.  So in five short weeks, I have to drag all my books back from the book room, reorganize everything that has been crammed into my closet, and redecorate the entire room.  I am enough of a perfectionist that the first time I decorated my room, it stuck for the entire year.  So let’s be honest, a lot of the previous posters will get hung up in the exact same spot as they were last year.  And in 5 weeks, I get to re-do everything I just spent that past week un-doing.  But hey, a little inefficiency never hurt anyone!

So moving into summer, I turn in my classroom keys tomorrow to take a break from the never-ending demands of teaching for a few short weeks, and hopefully come back recharged and ready to hit the ground running.  And ready to redecorate my room, or maybe even reinvent it J

Lessons

This past weekend, I called home to wish my dad a happy Father’s Day.  As it was the first weekend after the end of school, we were reflecting together over the past year. Now, my dad is all about learning life lessons and all, so he asked me, quite directly, what do you think you’ve learned this year? Now, the answer to this question is not perfect, as I think many “life lessons” are realized long after the fact.  But given as I have officially completed my first year teaching, I do think I can start to answer this question.  So, what have I learned this year?

1. It’s not going to be perfect.  And that’s okay! I so often strive for perfection, but it’s not possible or realistic.  Instead, I must learn that it’s okay to let go and to take a break. No one asked me to be perfect, so why do I ask that of myself? I am (slowly!) learning that it’s okay to let go of some control and trust that things will work themselves out.
2. My role is to be faithful.  Along the lines of letting go, I have struggled with my “smallness” in such a big and broken world. I have wanted so much for my kids, but can provide so little.  I have felt hopeless and helpless in bringing change and redemption to the dark corners of this city, and to be able to change the circumstances for my kids.  So when asking what my role is here, I have been very stuck. I am now realizing that I am to be faithful to the work that God has called me to.  He hasn’t called me to change the world.  He has called me to teach.  I must be faithful in the task at hand and give the rest to him.  This is a lesson I grapple with daily, and will continue to be a real struggle for me (note: I am a control freak, and this requires me to be the opposite).  But, I must learn to be faithful in what he calls me to today.

Say What, part 3

Below are some more terms commonly used by my students that I have learned.  I have noticed in the past two months that: A) I am now regularly using some of these terms in my own speech; and B) I know I am missing probably 20 terms, but it is harder for me to recognize new terms.  I guess working here for 7 months means I am more used to the language, and it's not as noticeable to me anymore...

• Do it for the vine: Do something crazy.  This came from a Vine video that students sing/chant/quote. The idea is that when someone tells you to “do it for the vine”, you do something ridiculous and crazy in response, as if you were filming a Vine video.  When given this challenge, I respond in one of three ways: 1. Dance or jump or flail around; 2. Make a ridiculous face; 3. Ignore my students and insist they get back to work.  My response generally depends on my mood.  Below is the original Vine video that students are referencing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltrcNAcxuRc
• Merch: To provide proof or evidence of something.  It can either stand alone to be used as a response to someone's claim (to basically imply you don't believe it and want proof).
• O.G.: Original Gangster.  This means different things in different places, but for me and my students, it means mom.  Example: “Hold on, my OG be calling me” or “Why you call my OG last night?”
• “On…”: Examples: on my momma, on my granny, on my dead homie, on BD (Black Disciples- a gang).  This is used to imply total honesty in a statement made, as if you are swearing that you are telling the truth.  The equivalent when I was in high school was “I swear”, but my students swear “on” someone or something.
• Petty: This word is used ALL THE TIME.  Examples: “You petty”, “That’s petty”, “____’s petty as hell”.  Any of these are used to imply that the subject or situation is petty and focused on non-important things.  My students use this when I require them to write the date in Spanish (which we have done EVERY day since the beginning of school, by the way), or when I check homework the day it’s due.  What a crazy concept that I would actually CHECK the homework that I assigned!
• Stain: steal. One day walking up the stairs at school, my phone was starting to slip out of my pocket.  The Dean was walking with me and told me to "watch out, these kids finna stain you!"
• Trappin’: hustling, drug dealing.  A tell-tale sign that someone is trappin’ is that they have numerous cell phones, used to make a variety of arrangements or deals.
• Treat: similar to “flame”, often used in the context “he/she just treated your ass”. I hear this in my classroom after I sarcastically respond to foolish questions or inappropriate comments.

Lamenting

The transition from winter break back to the busyness of teaching has been one defined by the extreme cold that Chicago has been experiencing.  I am currently enjoying my fourth “cold day” this month, and have been hibernating quite a bit these past two days.  When the temperature drops below zero, with wind-chills pushing us to the frigid depths of -40 degrees, NOTHING is worth venturing outside for.  So instead, I am hibernating and reflecting on the past month; I realized that over my winter break I found myself dealing with frustration and mixed emotions as a result of my experiences teaching in Chicago.

I grew up in suburbia. It’s where I lived, went to school, made friends… it’s where I come from.  But the past year of my life has brought me to a very different place in the world: the inner-city.  While the inner-city isn’t without its challenges, it’s a place where I feel comfortable because of what I have been called to and equipped for by the Lord.  My winter break forced me out of the inner-city and back to suburbia for two weeks.  And I think there was some culture shock in that transition.

The first day back at home, I spent the evening talking and crying to my parents about my frustration just driving to the grocery store that day.  Here I was surrounded by middle-class America living comfortably in their small towns.  Looking at the houses and the stores and the roads I felt like this little town was so incredibly isolated from the world.  How can I be here (suburbia) when my students, whom I love, are hanging out on their block with friends, mindful of every car that goes by and every person that walks past, always on alert for danger, always aware that at any moment someone could pull a gun out and shoot at them? How can I be here, when my students are struggling through the decision on whether or not they want to leave their gang, because leaving means they must get jumped out, guaranteeing a visit to the hospital?  How can I be here, when my students are at home without heat, without food on the table? How can I be here celebrating Christmas when my students hate the holiday because of how it further represents the racial and economic divide in the world, and the reality that all the cards are stacked against them?

I know that I need to be careful when these frustrations start flowing.  I need to be careful that I am not being judgmental.  Issues of race and poverty and inequality are not exactly topics the world wants to talk about, and I am very comfortable discussing these things.  But these issues are so complex, that I can’t start placing the blame on anyone, and can’t accuse anyone. I need to be mindful of my thoughts and my words, that I am not condemning or criticizing.  I can never disown where I come from.  Even if it brings me frustration now as the result of culture shock, in some way my upbringing has brought me to this point and has played a role in preparing me for the work I am doing. 

Since moving to Chicago, I have been part of a small-group with other women who also teach in the inner-city.  We are a bit of a random group of women, brought together by our faith in Christ and our shared passion for our students and social justice.  Two weeks ago, we talked about lamentations.  For me, it was the exact conversation I needed to have at the end of a rough week, when the weight on my shoulders was crushing.

We talked about what it means to lament, and looked at Biblical examples of lamentations, not the least of which come from David and Job.  I best understand lamenting as a “righteous complaining” to God, a way to throw things at his feet, and say “what are you going to do about this?”  One of the principle lessons my generation has been taught is the importance of problem solving.  Thus, when I see problems around me – hunger, violence, neglect, corruption, pain, brokenness – my first reaction is to try to figure out what I can do to fix it. 

But this year, I am seeing SO MANY things.  I want to fix them all.  I want to be able to provide for my students – to provide them with food, with shelter, with safety, with love and respect, with protection from corruption and racism.  But the reality is I can’t do it all.  The past two months, I have been grappling with the reality that the Lord is exposing me to these things and is breaking my heart for them, but never once has he commanded me to fix it.  And that is a hard truth for me to accept.  Because instead of fixing anything, he is calling me “to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). Believe it or not, this is really hard for me to grasp.  I so much want to change the situations for my students, but this means changing an entire society that is built upon systemic racism and segregation and economic inequality and corruption.  This is not the battle God has called me to.  When I see these things and think about how I can do nothing about them, I feel entirely helpless and hopeless.  And this is where lamentations come in.

I can go to God and lay it all at his feet.  I can take each and every situation and story to him, and say “Here it is.  I can’t fix this.  I am broken by this.  What are you going to do about it?”  In this process, I am admitting a few things: I am admitting that the world is broken.  I am admitting that I am inadequate, and unable to fix it on my own.  To think otherwise would be untrue.  I am admitting that God is in control.  I am admitting that God is all-powerful and can bring salvation and justice to the world with his breath.  I am laying the problems I see at his feet, and surrendering them to him.  This isn’t to say that my heart is not still broken for my students, but it frees me from having to carry their burdens. Lamenting entrusts these burdens "to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us" (Ephesians 3:20).  Because I can't fix it, and the only answer is to give it to Him who can.

Sustainability

As a first year teacher, the demands for my time and energy are endless.  I regularly work 80 hours a week, and rarely know what I’m going to teach more than a few days in advance.  Do I know what I’m teaching next week? That’s funny. Unit plans? Nice try. Year-long calendar sequence? You must be dreaming.  Life truly has become a game of keeping my head above water.

As I struggle each day to spend less than 12 hours in the school and to leave at a semi-reasonable hour, I have had conversations with other first-year teachers.  My experience is not unique.  Being a first-year teacher just sucks… a lot.

Retention rates for schools – especially high-need, urban schools – is pretty low.  The first few years of teaching are the hardest, and many young, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, well-intentioned teachers burn out.  Last week, I was talking to another Spanish teacher.  We were talking about all this, and about how hard the first few months have been and about survival strategies.  In our conversation, as in many of my conversations about this experience, I articulated how I am incredibly tired, consistently overwhelmed, and perpetually behind on the to-do list, and how in spite of it all, I love my job, love my students, and can’t imagine doing anything else.  I may only be a few months into it, but I feel as though this is what I have been called to for the rest of my life.  He was a bit surprised to say the least.  His comment was something to the extent of: “that’s awesome, but I don’t understand how you do it.  I don’t know how anyone does it. This way of life isn’t sustainable. There’s no way I will teach for the rest of my life.”

Now, I didn’t take our conversation in this direction, but I have definitely spent a lot of time thinking about all this.  And I know that the reason I’m not hating every second of my life is because I have been filled with such peace.  Christians often talk about being “called” to something.  I never heard a booming voice from heaven, but the peace and the calm I feel in the midst of such chaos assures me that this is exactly where God wants me and that he has equipped me for the task.  How else can I explain it? I am a young, white woman from the suburbs working with inner-city black boys, many involved in gangs, many whose stories couldn’t be more different from my own.  And yet each day, we laugh and joke around and sometimes we even learn something about Spanish. This doesn’t make sense!

I won’t deny that this job is hard.  It’s REALLY hard. The challenges of lesson planning, on top of behavior management, on top of school culture and dynamics, on top of my students’ needs, on top of MY needs… you get the point. But I know that the Lord has a purpose and a plan for me here. I am filled with peace. And I don’t plan on going anywhere.

“Now may the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with every good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” Hebrews 13:20-21

Say what, continued

Each day brings new lessons, for my students and myself alike.  Here are some more words and phrases I have learned:

• Bars: lyrics/rap.  Often used as "spittin' bars" to mean rapping.  Students are now asking when I'm gonna "spit bars".
• Bogus: this words seems to be a less vulgar version of "bull s***", but is used all the time. Situations and people can be "bogus".  Example: "You bogus" or "That's bogus".  Most often used as "That's bogus as hell".
• Cuffin': to start dating someone.  Example: "This female and I were cuffin' this weekend and now she's my gf". That is a real quote form something one of my students wrote...
• Detail: also, "on the clock".  Referring to being a body guard.  Example: "I finna detail for you, Señorita".
• Doin' too much: trying too hard, as determined by the speaker. Examples: Straight A students are described as "doin' too much".  Also, I never sit down when I am teaching and always walk around my classroom, and my students tell me I'm "doin' too much".
• Drill: to kill; to have sex with; to flame.  The meaning varies greatly depending on the context.
• Flame: to embarrass someone.  Example: "He's finna flame me for that".  Side note: My students got a picture of me after school one day making a semi-obnoxious face, and they think they can "flame" me with it.  What they don't realize is that I make that face all the time, and there are numerous pictures in existence documenting the expression.  Good luck guys, it's gonna take more than that...
• Lacking: not paying attention.  I believe this comes from "slacking".  Example: my keys were on my desk and a student picked them up while I was sitting there.  He immediately, and dramatically, threw them back on the desk and said "Señorita, you can't be lacking like that", implying that I wasn't paying attention.  Also, this past week I asked my students about their Halloween plans.  One student wrote that he was going to "sit in the crib. Can't get caught lacking in Chicago because I am trying to stay alive longer than 50 years." A harsh reality in a violent city.
• L's: driver's license. Example: "I turn 18 next week and I'm finna get my L's".
• Stuntin' (her name): to be involved (with a girl) and make it known to others.  Example: "He's stuntin' her name".  Translation: he claims he's seeing that girl.
• Thot: stands for "that hoe over there", pronounced "thought". Obviously there are a few conversations about respect that my students and I will be having in the near future...

Carrying burdens

Seeing hundreds of faces every day brings a lot of interesting interactions and a lot of unpredictability.  I have 137 students who sit in my classroom every day, who are in my keeping for 45 minutes a day.

With some students, we get to laugh and joke around and they make me smile every day.  They ask me questions about my life (to get to know me better or to get me off task, I'm not entirely sure), and we have fun in class.  Some of my students think I live in a cave because of my complete lack of knowledge of all things pop-culture, and some think I'm an 80 year old woman because of my use of the word "shenanigans".  Fortunately, I have some pretty tough skin when they laugh at my quirks.

On the flip side, some of my students come into my room with some pretty serious struggles.  They write me notes or tell me after class about their cousin that died, their friend who was shot last night.  They are upset and withdrawn, head on their desk, willing themselves to sleep.  How can I blame them? What can I do or say to support them? I worry about my students.  I worry about "D" who is a bright kid and eager to learn, but whose aggression leads him to regular fights, whose girlfriend is pregnant.  I worry about "J" who was arrested last week, whose tattoo of a dollar sign on his neck signals to me of his life as a drug dealer.  I worry about "K" who had a gun put to his head last weekend, who has had too many negative interactions with racist cops.  I worry about "M" who is a gang chief in his neighborhood, and I am thankful that he loves basketball and plays for the school, which helps motivate him to stay in school.

Each day is long and tiring, but I truly love my job and I love my students.  But as I get to know my students better and develop relationships with them, they share more about their lives with me.  I am so thankful for the relationships I do have with students and the trust and respect we have built to allow me a glimpse into their lives outside my classroom.  I consider myself lucky to have students in my room every day after school, to have students yelling my name in the halls between classes or from the sidelines at football games.  However, as we talk, I find myself carrying their burdens.  Frankly, life as a black male in Chicago is pretty rough.  The things my students have seen, experienced, heard - it breaks my heart.  I rarely know what to say when I learn these things.  I get frustrated with the inequality and injustice that my students face every single day, a battle they have not chosen.

Through conversations with friends, family, and other teachers, I am learning how to cope and manage these emotions in the midst of what I am learning.  I have been reminded that I don't carry these burdens alone.  The Lord walks alongside of me and carries them too.  I have not been called to fix these problems or do this on my own.  I don't have the strength or energy or wisdom to do any of this.  But Jesus does.  Thank goodness I don't walk into my classroom alone.  Praise the Lord for nothing is a surprise to him, and he walks before us.

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses so that Christ's power may rest on me." 2 Corinthians 12:9

Say what?

Teaching in an all-male, urban high school brings a new vocabulary set.  Confused though I may be in the meantime, I am slowly but surely learning the new language. I have even had a student tell me I need to "learn how to speak black" and promised that he was going to make a test for me. This test has yet to materialize, but here is my list of new terms I have learned, and can now use in their proper context:

• Boppin: a type of dance that involves bouncing on one’s toes while moving your knees in and out.  This dance is a “West side thing”, so it’s not as common on the south side of Chicago.  One of my students is in a dance crew, and this video is his brother and a friend “boppin”.  I apologize for the language of the lyrics, but it gives you a pretty good idea of the dance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDWt9CyGHj0
• China: fancy jewelry. Example: "Where's your china today, Señorita?" (said while pointing to neck)
• FeFe: a large outdoor party in the ghetto that takes place in the street.  During the party, you want the “right” cars to drive through.  This is also a “West side thing”
• Females: girls. They never refer to girls as "girls". Only "females". Example: "Where them females at?"
• Finna: gonna/going to. Example: "I finna find a pen, Señorita”
• Foody: a crack addict
• Lining: hair line.  The boys are obsessed with their own and each other’s hair line.
• Loud: on weed. Example: “These guys be too loud”.
• Squares: cigarettes
• Stacking: a gangbanging sign
• Turnt up: A)crazy, B)high, C)drunk, D)any combination of the above.  Example: “How was your weekend?” "Man, I got turnt up”
• TTU: too turnt up.  See above.
• Tweakin: A) crazy, B) high/on drugs, C) nuts. Examples: "Señorita, you tweakin'" when I collect the homework I assigned the day before.

By no means is this an exhaustive list, and I am sure more will come in the weeks and months to follow.  However, hopefully this is interesting and enlightening in the meantime!

Day One. And a few that followed.

I am a teacher.  I am now regularly referred to as “Ms. S” or “Señorita”, or some other nickname depending on how creative (or frustrated) my students are.  My first two thoughts about my first week of school are: This is really hard. And I love it.

Let me set the record straight.  Teaching is REALLY hard.  Overnight, I became responsible for 136 young men.  For 8 hours a day, my job is to keep 136 people awake, safe, engaged, learning, active, excited, and participating.  My job is to hold my ground each and every day and maintain high expectations as students would prefer to talk over me or throw a paper ball at me.  I have been told a hundred times how hard this would be, but goodness gracious, it really is incredibly tiring.

Secondly, despite how much my feet hurt when I come home, how little sleep I get (and I’m only a week in!), and how crazy I think I am, I still love it.  I cannot imagine myself doing anything else in the world other than teaching.  This might be the hardest thing I have ever taken on, but I don’t regret it now, and I don’t think I ever will.  Some kids know exactly what they want to do “when they grow up”.  It may have taken me a little longer to make that decision, but I am confident that I was made to be a teacher.  I was made to teach 136 students the joy of learning another language.  I was made to see 136 faces every day, some more eager than others, some more hurt than others.  I was made to have my heart broken by 136 stories of life in this big city.  This year is certainly going to be an adventure.  And as tired as I am after week one, I am incredibly excited to see what this year will have in store for me.

Lastly, if you are interested in more about what I (and thousands of other teachers) do, take a look at this video. Please excuse the language, but I think it puts things into perspective rather nicely: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxsOVK4syxU.

Growing Up.

Growing up is inevitable. Sometimes it’s awesome, sometimes it’s a little awkward, and sometimes it hurts.  Everyone does it (although some more than others), and as far as I can tell, the secret is to ‘fake it ‘til you make it’.  These past few days and weeks have been good but quite challenging for me.  Post-grad life put me in two urban middle schools last year, and has now brought me to the Windy City.  I will be teaching at an inner-city high school this coming school year, but have already made the “big move” for courses this summer to better prepare me to teach next year.

While there are some super exciting things coming down the road for me, leaving my hometown was hard.  I left some wonderful friends who I met in college, which brought me to tears on more occasions than I would care to admit.  Although I like to claim an adventurous and care-free spirit, I have always struggled with big change.  Saying goodbyes and leaving behind good things is hard for me, as I fear the unknown.  But at the same time, I feel so incredibly foolish.  In the last 2+ years, I have gone through a number of transitions. And each time, I’ve come out okay.  Things work themselves out, and I (hopefully!) come out a little stronger. And if not, I have some great stories about it all.  Through it all, the Lord has continued to bless me time and again.  Blessing me by putting some fantastic, loving, understanding parents in my life; blessing me by providing me with a few great friends to help carry me through; and blessing by simply providing.  Time and again.

Thankful

This post may seem to be a bit random, but just go with it.  One night this past week, I was watching the evening news with my parents during my visit home.  One of the segments announced that President Obama officially won the November 2012 election (old news, right?).  Apparently, Congress met this week to officially count the Electoral Votes from November, thereby announcing Obama as the winner of the presidential election.  While this may seem unimportant (we kind of already figured out the results of the election back on election night), it reminded me of something…

The night of the election, November 6, 2012, I flipped the news on to catch the coverage as results were coming in from the polling booths.  And I was struck with a thought (bear with me, please).The entire nation was watching that night as results were coming in from each polling station.  Each polling station added up to the counties that were turned different colors indicating the victor, and then the states changed colors to reflect which candidate would be receiving that state’s electoral votes. 

But now think about it in reverse – each state is made up of counties is made up of polling stations is made up of people.  Made up of individuals who went out to cast a vote on who their next president would be.  My vote – that of a young woman who is still figuring out her place in life – became a part of history that night, regardless of who I voted for.

Now that is a kind of a neat thought.  And while it may seem so obvious, I was thankful for this realization that November night.  That night, our nation watched as each individual cast a ballot, and as each ballot added to others to declare a winner and a loser.  And I am very thankful to be part of a nation that stops everything else to watch as these individuals acted upon one of the fundamental freedoms of our country.

New Beginnings

The New Year always brings an array of cheesy wishes for a better, bigger, different year.  Frankly, New Year’s Eve is not a big deal to me (I spent the night hanging out with my family at home, crazy, I know), but I have my own new beginnings to celebrate.  And they just happen to fall around the same time as the New Year.

Last month, I (finally!) graduated from college – woo hoo! While I have been done with my coursework since August, I was unable to get my diploma until December.  I decided to spend my last term of college studying abroad in Chile and since international transcripts take about three months to transfer home, I didn’t get that coveted piece of paper proving that I was DONE until December.  After spending the past few months trying to explain the bizarre situation to employers – and anyone else who was asking – I can now officially say I am a college graduate.  What a relief.

Over the course of the few months I was in college-graduate-limbo, the Lord blessed me immensely.  About two weeks before I received my diploma, I started my first big-girl job.  I will be spending the next few months teaching middle school reading at an inner-city school in my neck of the woods.  I started at this charter school as an intern in September, and was offered this position as a result of the time and work I put in.  I am so fortunate to a.) have a job, and b.) to be doing what I love.

Throughout high school (and let’s be honest, the majority of college too), I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.  I knew where my passions lay, but I didn’t know how or where I was going to put them into practice.  And then came along education reform.  And I knew that’s what I wanted to do.  I have been exposed to poverty in a variety of ways and in a variety of places over the past eight years, and have felt a desire to serve the underserved and to be a light of the Good News in some pretty dark places.  Comparing what I’ve seen in some rough neighborhoods to my own upbringing brought up some pretty big differences that I couldn’t ignore.  One of the biggest differences is the quality of education.  I am technically the product of public schools, but the school was phenomenal, and many outsiders assumed it was a private school.  But the public schools in inner-city areas are another story.

When I say that there are serious problems in public schools, people often ask me what I mean by that.  And I tell them about some of the students I am now working with.  I have sixth grade students who are 14 years old, and still failing.  I have sixth grade students who read at a kindergarten level.  I have students who live in shelters.  Something is wrong with that picture.  And I want to be a part of that change, no matter how small the part.

The school I am working at is a charter school, and is dedicated to changing the outcome for these students.  I am so thankful to be working with a team of passionate, hard-working, and innovative educators, and I look forward to all that I will continue to learn from them.  2013 will be bringing some big changes (read: challenges) for me, and I am anxious to see what I will be taught this year.  Stay tuned!

Taking Chances

Last night, I had the privilege to be at another high school swim meet.  For the second year in a row, I have helped coach an inner-city swim and dive team, and it has been such a joy.  Yesterday, we had a swim meet against two other inner-city teams in the city, and it gave us an opportunity to swim all of our less-experienced athletes who don’t get much swim time in the more competitive meets.  And let me tell you, they did a great job.

For many of them, this past month has been completely new to them.  Most of these less-experienced athletes had never swum a lap in their life, and now they are swimming over 4000 yards a day.  Talk about a challenge, but they have stepped up to this challenge with such a positive attitude.

And last night, during the girls JV 50 Free, I almost cried.  That’s right.  I was brought to tears during a swim meet.  Not exactly the norm.  This event was full with swimmers who struggled to make it the two laps.  Their strokes were far from perfect. Flip turns just didn’t happen. Their starts had a closer resemblance to a belly-flop.  Some of it was more splashing than swimming.  And yet, it was absolutely beautiful.

Here was a group of six girls from three different high schools who took a chance.  Humans are not made for water.  We were designed for dry land, and yet every day, they throw themselves into a pool.  They listen to feedback from their coaches.  They look up to more-experienced swimmers for tips and encouragement.  They push themselves to just keep swimming, swimming, swimming (thank you, “Finding Nemo”, for your helpful mantra), even when they are tired, even when they just want to crawl onto the deck and rest.  They have taken a chance, and are growing in leaps and bounds.

Kudos to you ladies, who make me so proud and remind me why I coach swimming.

Rainy Days.

There’s nothing like a rainy day to get the memories rolling.  Chilly, wet days like today remind me of most of my time in Chile.  While I enjoyed plenty of gorgeous, sunny days, I definitely remember being bundled up in my rain coat more often than not, especially during my last few weeks.  My transition back to life in the States, even with how unpredictable it has been, has been a relatively smooth one, which has been such a blessing.  But I definitely find myself missing Chile and the adventures I had while I was there. 

I miss sitting in our kitchen with my gringa roommate, chatting about our lives at home and getting to know each other better over mugs of hot cocoa and spoons of manjar.  I miss my walk to (and even up the giant hill from) the metro.  I miss the daily hugs from Mariela, one of my supervisors at my internship.  I miss being close to the beach all the time, even if it meant I was always smelling nasty fish.  I miss hearing my host dad sing around the house.  I miss the helado de canela that I found at a little coffee shop.  I miss the sounds of music (mostly good) on my metro rides.  I miss the laughter of the kids running around our house, playing escondido.

And now that I find myself in the US, I have noticed how much my time in Chile has changed me.  There are so many moments, every day, where I want to blurt out in the middle of a conversation, “that reminds me of ____ in Chile”.  And even though I have some great, understanding friends, I know that I can’t talk about Chile all the time, or they are just going to get sick of it.  And when that happens, I become a bit upset.  No one knows what I experienced.  None of my friends or family will ever be able to share in my memories of the things I saw, heard, did.  And that is a bit of a lonely realization.  And when those thoughts start running through my mind, I have to make a conscious decision to remember where I put my hope and faith – not in this world, but in the work done on the cross for me.  I have been told to “be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid or terrified […], for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6). 

I am not alone. 

“For surely I am with you always, even to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).

From one adventure to the next

Once again I am standing on American soil.  Actually, I’ve been on American soil for ten days. 

So, a little update on my final week in Chile: I climbed a volcano.  I mentioned preparing for the trek in my last post, but I actually made it to the top of Volcán Villarica (feel free to Google it).  And it was the hardest (physically) thing I have done in my life – even harder than running a half marathon.  It had rained for two weeks in the town of Pucón, which meant two weeks worth of fresh snow on the volcano, so we had to create our own path the entire way.  It took us six hours to reach the top, and it felt like climbing up stairs, but the “steps” were too far apart most of the time (or at least, for someone of my height… or lack thereof).  Most of the time, the snow was deeper than my knees, so I used my ice pick to help stabilize me on the climb up.  After the long climb, we finally reached the top!  We were unable to see the lake of lava in the crater, but we did have some pretty great views of the surrounding area.

At the top of Volcán Villarica, with the crater behind me (and steam from the lava). 

After climbing up a snow-covered volcano for six hours, what is the best way to get down?  Well, sledding of course.  In our huge back-packs (like, the 20+ pound back-packing bags) was a little baby sled that was about the size of your butt.  And for two hours, we sled down, using our ice picks as brakes.  After getting snow sprayed into my face (and down my jacket… and up my pant-legs… and in my shoes) for two hours, we made it back down to the base of the volcano, looking behind to what we had just done.  Like I said, it was incredibly hard, but it was totally worth the exhaustion and was one of the coolest things I’ve done in my life.

Other folks from my hostel who climbed the volcano.  I'm on the far right.

View of Volcán Villarica from town.

While that adventure was a blast and was an experience of a life-time, life State-side is a little less adventurous.  I am currently rocking the unemployed status, which means life is incredibly up-in-the-air for me right now.  But surprisingly enough, that’s okay.  Yes, things are pretty unpredictable right now, but this is my current adventure – figuring out where the Lord wants me next.

Blogging this past summer was a blast for me (and hopefully you enjoyed reading).  I probably won’t update this very often, but maybe there will be some more writing – and blogging – for me in the future.  I guess we’ll find out. 

Un abrazo,

Elise

One last hooray.

Dearest friends and family,

As I write, I am unwinding from one adventure, and am preparing myself for the next.  These last 72 hours in Chile are going to be wonderful.

Today, I went white-water rafting for the first time, on a level 4 river.  It was crazy! The river was beautiful, and it was surrounded by gorgeous, snow-capped mountains.  And I learned that the water was incredibly cold when I went for my little ¨swim¨ part-way through. One of the level 4 rapids included a ¨hydraulic¨(? Some things just get lost in translation with Spanish...) that our group didn´t manuever quite as well as we should have, and a few of us took a dunk.  But it was totally worth it.

And now, I am packing my bag in preparation to climb the volcano tomorrow with some people from my hostel.  Let me tell you, the adventures never end in Chile.  The past few days have been raining a lot, which meant a lot of activities were unavailable for the past few days, but tomorrow is supposed to be perfect weather to climb the volcano.  We start at 6:45 in the morning, and climb up 2800m for 5 hours through the snow, before sledding back down.  I´ll be sure to keep you posted on the details of this next adventure :)

Love to all,
Elise

Bucket List

I have officially been in Chile for two months, and it has come to my attention that there were two experiences I had not yet had.  But not to worry, I have now experienced these last two things:

One.  Pulgas.  More commonly known as fleas.  That´s right folks, I got fleas.  I had hoped that if I didn´t pet the stray dogs and ran away instead (not hard for me to do), and hoped for the best, I would remain flea-free for my entire trip.  But alas, those pesky little pulgas got the best of me.  I have no idea when or where I got them (I have been in countless trains, buses, cars, and cities this past week), but the 16+ bites on my leg leave no room for doubt.  Mom and Dad, I hope you´re ready for all the laundry I´ll be doing when I get home :)

Two.  The south. During my time here, I lived in central Chile (and I love it dearly), and traveled to the Atacama desert (see the earlier post about that adventure).  But I was still lacking time in the south of Chile.  The land starts to break up the further south you go, as it turns into the region of Patagonia.  And my study abroad program ended last week, so I decided to travel to southern Chile for my final week here.  I made it to one of the northern-most towns of Patagonia, and I am enjoying the lake and the beautiful scenery, when it´s not raining.  Which it kind does all the time during the winter in the south.  So when it rains the hardest, I curl up by the fire, drinking tea and reading a book.  Rough life, huh?

I will continue to travel for this week (one more city to go before Santiago!), enjoying the paisaje and relaxing by fire-places.  And this weekend, I fly home!  I land in the wonderful land of the United States of America, bright and early on Sunday morning.  USA, I hope you´re ready for me :)

Love to you all, and I look forward to talking to you soon when I am state-side once again!

¡Chao!

Nearing the End

For the past few weeks, I have been volunteering full time at a local organization, and it has been different than I expected to say the least.  Unfortunately, the organization is in the midst of some transitions, which means there is little work for us gringo volunteers.  So, I can say I am incredibly up-to-date on my email inbox, and have found a few fun projects to do to decorate my new apartment next year.  I guess I am redefining “productivity” while I am here.

This past weekend, our group had another project in which we painted a different set of stairs in Valparaíso.  Our artwork was definitely better the second time around, and it was fun to hang out in the sun, painting away.  The set of stairs we painted was 450 steps long, so it was a little daunting to look at.  Someone had previously written a poem up the stairs, so we left that untouched and added color to other parts of the stairs.  Once again, I’ll try to add pictures soon!

Later in the day, I returned to the stairs with some friends to take pictures of our dry artwork.  And then I encountered the other side to Latin American culture.  A man had found our trash (empty paint cans, etc.) and put some paint on his hands and pants, and was pretending to have painted the stairs. And he was collecting tips for his “work”.  We spoke with him for a minute or two, asking about his “painting”, and he proceeded to tell us that the area was feo (ugly) so he was painting to bring color y alegría (color and happiness) to the area.  We didn’t correct him (telling him that we were the ones who had painted), because that would not have been a smart or productive decision, but I definitely learned about the “other” side of the culture here.  Ay de mí.

Lastly, I’ll admit being a little frustrated here.  Studying and living abroad is extremely fun and different and exciting, but no one really talks about the other side of it.  It is difficult to abruptly adjust to another culture, and then to have to leave so quickly.  These are my last days in Valparaíso, and I find myself upset about leaving Chile, but also upset about being back in the United States.  So basically I don’t know where I want to be.  Please be praying for peace for me in these last two weeks.  I have some exciting adventures awaiting me for these last weeks, so I’m looking forward to enjoying as much as possible from my remaining time in Chile.

I will try to update this blog again before I am standing on American soil, but I honestly don’t know if I will have the time.  So, please forgive me if this is the last post from Chile, and know that I am looking forward to catching up with everyone when I get home :)

You know you're not in America when...

You know you're not in America when... you hear the sound of an ice cream truck, look over your shoulder, and instead of seeing said ice cream truck, see the gas truck driving around the neighborhood with tanks of propane gas for household estufas.

That is all for today.