You've Got a Friend in Me: to infinity and beyond social networking

 

Once upon a time, we were five years old.  We played with Barbies or cap guns or Legos.  We climbed trees, we wrestled, and we made messes.  We had best friends that came to our birthday parties and shared (or didn't) their cooler toys with us.  Time played a funny trick, and we aren't five anymore.  Adios Otterpops, Spirograph and Barney.  See you later sleepovers and scraped knees and seeing a zebra for the first time.  Now we're twenty-plus-ish and our social lives are more dilapidated than that butter colored El Camino that your aunt's ex-boyfriend's brother drove back in the 80s. 

But seriously. 

If I were a doctor, I'd tell you that having good friends makes the difference between recovering from surgery (or having it in the first place) in a couple weeks or a couple months.  If I were a psychologist, I'd tell you that friends guard your sanity, or at least help you pick up the pieces after a breakdown.  If I were a trainer, I'd tell you your heart would be healthier with friends around.  If I were a pastor, I'd tell you that your spiritual life would be more on track with close solid friendships. 

I'm not any of those things, so I'll just tell you that having good friends means not having to go shopping by yourself, not sitting alone in a theater, not living off Lean Cuisine, not sitting at home when you'd rather be doing something fun on the weekends and not leaving the house naively wearing a disaster outfit.  I qualified the word friend with the word good for a reason.  Good friends are not your 1007th Facebook friend, the people you get drunk with, or the guy who makes your skinny minny mocha every morning on the way to work.  I know you're disappointed, but I'm not budging.  They don't count.  Having 367 followers on Pinterest doesn't mean you have 367 friends.  Those 1259 friends you have on Facebook?  Yeah, they aren't all your friends. 

It's a trick.  For some reason, the online powers that be want you to think you're socially stable if you have active accounts on Flickr, Pinterest, Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, etc., etc.  The activ-er the better.  What's better than online community?  I mean, you can connect with people across the miles and you can portray a version of yourself that is taller, has whiter teeth and is a glue gun ninja.  That's so cool, right?  No.  It's not.  It's a trick.  It's making you think you have all these stable social relationships.  I hate to break it to you, but relationships built solely on 1010101110011010101011110001 are not real.  Yes, I know your cousin found her husband on eHarmony, and you love reading Mark Driscoll's blog, and your sister just found the cutest little vintage dress shop on Pinterest.  Ok, ok, listen to my voice; those are not friendships. 

With this Information Age, we've lost the value of real time relationships - the kind that take years to build and laughter and tears to glue together.  That's the dark side to all this social networking business.  You can know an Alaskan fisherman that sells fair trade salmon at half price on Tuesdays, but he's not going to water your house plants when you're visiting your Aunt Mathilda in Cincinnati.  You need friends.

So, what's a girl (or dude) to do?  It's not like you can saunter up to the kid standing next to the swing set and ask if they want to be friends.  Now that we're twenty-plus-ish, we have jobs (sometimes), and pets and significant others who want to hang out with us.  (I'm not against significant others, but they should take up a significant amount of your time, not all of it.)  I'm going to break it down for you, real simple like, so you can stop watching Friends reruns while eating Lean Cuisine and start living. 

1. Get off your tush.

I know.  It's hard.  The couch is comfortable, but it is also the death of your social life.  Run away while there's still time.  Recognize that time spent alone on the couch can be productive, but watching TV or eating ice cream out of the tub doesn't count as productive.  Commit to quit sitting.

2. Find some people. 

This might seem elementary, but it's going to take some work.  Whether it's at church, a running club, a rec volleyball league, a pottery class, or a community garden - find some people you might have something in common with.  This is why #1 is so important.  You have to be willing to look for potential friend material.  This will likely require you being scared.  Even I, one of the most extroverted people I know, get a little sweaty palmed at the thought of braving completely new social situations.  If you can go in pairs, do it.  Otherwise, just put your brave face on and start introducing yourself.  Note: don't go looking for friends in places where dirtbags hang out.  I know all people have value because they're made in the image of God and He loves them dearly, but don't make your best friends out of stupid people making stupid decisions.

3. Choose a few candidates.

I'm all about being Miss Social Butterfly, but I have about 5 girlfriends I can tell anything to.  Pick a few people you want to use your social time on.  It's going to take work.  You have to squeeze in time for pedicures and coffee and baking dates (or man time, whatever that involves).  You have to make an effort to let people into your life.  If you have friendships that have fallen by the wayside, maybe it's time to pick them back up and do a little repair work.

4. Stick with it.

Friendships take work and time.  Don't be lazy when it comes to something that could literally save your life.  You wouldn't just walk around for days without eating because you're too lazy to open the fridge.  Don't do the same thing to your social life because you think you don't have time or people wouldn't want to hang out with you.  That's crap, and you know it. 

So go make some friends.  Go join a club.  Get off that silly couch unless you're sitting there hosting a dinner party with your nearest and dearest or having a heart to heart with your actual/real time/non binary friend. 

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine, who's in the process of making a few friendships herself.  

Living the Dream… mom, tests and tears

Oh, friends, I always knew teaching wasn't an easy job, but now I'm seeing it for myself.  Ideals sparkling with collegiate naiveté suddenly look like a fairytale castle, nice but not reality.  I wanted my kids learning plays, designing and building things, doing experiments, and solving the worlds problems.  What I'm finding is a gap between ambition and physical limitations of time and energy, oh, and having to be at P.E. and such and such a standardized test and lunch and deal with bloody noses and children who can't stand in a straight line. 

How in the world can I be what each student needs?  How in the world can I differentiate for precious child 1 and 2 and 15 and 23?!  Kid 7 keeps trying to spell words without vowels!  Kid 2 invariably forgets to use punctuation!  Kid 13 could probably do high school geometry!  I can't let any of them slip through the cracks - not Kid 10 because she's so quiet, or Kid 5 because she's about as hyper as a chihuahua puppy! 

I've decided, as a first year teacher, I don't have to do it all at once.  My priority is my precious children.  If they're learning, I'm satisfied.  If my room wins cutest classroom (which it likely never will), if I get enough box tops to buy a chemistry set, and if every one of my kids gets put in the gifted program next year, fine.  For now, I'm just going to focus on figuring out how to be a classroom teacher that can explain things in enough ways that it gets the point across to every student, treats her students fairly, keeps her promises, and ignites a fire for learning in the guts of the 23 kids in Miss Sunshine's Room 8. 

Friday, we were with our first grade buddy class working on the commutative property (flipping around addition facts), and I almost lost it.  There were my kids, some of them a little crazier than others, working carefully with their buddy to explain the concept and play the dice game.  I was so proud of them.  They were being responsible because they were given responsibility! 

Also Friday, we took a nasty long standardized reading test in the computer lab.  Afterwards, I had a little sweet one crying at her desk saying she didn't like reading.  I about started crying with her right there.  WHAT?!  Don't like reading?!  Next to loving Jesus and having a stable social network, reading is just about the most important thing in life.  We had to have a little chat about how she didn't really hate reading, she just needed a little practice.  Oh, but they pull on your heartstrings! 

  

Monday, I have my first big test.  I'm leaving my darling hooligans with a sub.  She has specific instructions in an attempt at preventing them from taking her to the moon.  Haha, they might take her there anyway, but I did my best to label things and give her a ship shape ship to run while I'm at a curriculum training day.  It's like leaving your kids with a babysitter for the first time.  You know there's the potential for them to be helpful and responsible and show her where the lunch box bin goes by the gate.  You also know you could come back to a warzone and a hastily scribbled note on your desk that says, "I tried to keep them from putting glue in each other's hair, it just didn't work out, sorry.". 

Thursday, a student called me over to his desk with a question.  He looked up at me with his wondering brown eyes and said, "Mom?  … I mean… Miss Sunshine? … uh sorry"  Later, the same precious child was wriggling around on the carpet like an earthworm.  When I asked him what he was doing, he replied simply that he was trying to get up with no arms.  Of course.  No arms.  Yes, that's life in 3rd grade. 

Well, if you want to pray, pray for wisdom and gumption, but most of all, pray that I figure out how to ask for help.  Everyone at school is so kind and helpful, but often I don't even know what to ask for! 

Loving being Miss Sunshine of Room 8 escapades,

LMS

Living the Dream… Puke, Blood, and Recess

Well, friends, I've officially survived my first week as a 3rd grade teacher.  You're all wondering, I'm sure, how it's going, and you'd probably rather read it from the comfort of your sweatpants and morning coffee than hear it from me (silly technoisolationist culture that we've built ourselves into…).

I am living my dream straight out of college (plus or minus a year in Australia).  That's unheard of with today's economy and the fight to out-resume the next guy.  In college, I represented the skinny piece of the pie who knew what they wanted to do with their lives.  I've always wanted to be a teacher.  Somehow, I just knew.  Of course, when I started looking at colleges, I went through a short nutritionist/journalist/Spanish phase, but teaching won out.  I wasn't exactly short on circumstantial evidence either.

• I LOVE mornings.  The alarm goes off at 5:45, and I'm hungry for a new day to dance in.

• I'm all about learning.  I don't care what it is… physics, Plato, pepperoni pizza making.
• I love kids.  Gee whiz, they're funny and genuine and precious… sort of like dogs, but more fun because they can talk.
• Volume is one of my spiritual gifts (or curses, depending on who you talk to).
• My energy level is… above average.

• Multitasking is interesting.

• I'm really hard to gross out. (I've already had bloody noses and an upset stomach)
• Small paychecks don't scare me.

So, I think being a teacher might be a good idea.

For now, I'll just give you a topical overview of the questions I know you want answered.

The School

The place I'm teaching is amazing.  There's a great teacher culture, lots of involved parents, plenty of demographics represented, and high standards.  I have a great mentor who saves my life at least once a day.  My classroom is spacious and well equipped.  I'm absolutely spoiled.

The Commute

My daily sing along/pray along time is about 20 minutes.  It's perfect for getting prepped for the day (and drinking 77% of my morning coffee).  If you ever drive up beside me, odds are I'll be drumming on the steering wheel and giving a mini concert. 

Living at Home

I know, people get a bad rap sometimes for living at home, but it's been great.  I wasn't so sure about it, coming off of a year in Australia and a year at school in my own apartment, but it's been easier than I thought.  The plan is to stay at least a semester and figure out what the heck I'm doing after Christmas.  And yes, Mom does cook dinner. 

Teaching

I love teaching.  I don't love all the transition time and management time that isn't active learning time.  In the big picture, that's on me because I need to plan awesome things and make my children behave so we can do them.  :)

Stamina

Yep, being with 23 third graders from 8:15-3:05 takes it out of you.  I'm still finding time to have a small life (dancing, church, all the good stuff in life) outside of school!  I sleep hard at night, but invariably I have dreams about school.  The first night, I found myself in my bathroom at home looking for a bandaid for a student.  Last night I dreamed all my children were in my bedroom and I kept thinking I couldn't send them out because they wouldn't have anyone to look after them.  Then I realized it was 3AM and they couldn't possibly really be in my room. 

Oh friends, pray for my kiddos!  I love them so much already and ache when they don't understand they're specially made or when they hurt each other without thinking.  Pray I model what I know and what I'm trying to teach them. 

Much love from the school front,

Little Miss Sunshine

Unraveled

Without Time, Life would rise up and slay us.  There isn't a body that could survive two World Wars and the aftermath of Vietnam at once.  It's too much.  What heart could endure at once the joy of several children's births?  Eyes could not cry enough tears to assuage the pain of a broken heart without many nights of a wet pillow.  The delirium of falling in love would leave us incapacitated if experienced like a wave crashing down on top of us. 

I never understood the importance of Time.  It served me in its fashion, providing terms of measurement for my life, if nothing else.  Often it crawled like a slug in no hurry when I wanted it to race.  Often it was gone before I could look it in the face.  It is fleeting, in a fickle sort of way.  They say it passes at a constant speed, but I'm not convinced. 

Trying to understand Time is like trying to see a bird's eye view of a road that you're standing on.  The best and brightest can only use their imaginations.  It stretches out behind and before us, bending and twisting to block our view.  There is no going back, and wild blooms snatched along the way quickly become dried blossoms, a relic of yesterday. 

Only God is outside of Time because only He can bear it.  He alone can take on the brunt of thousands of years of slavery, heart rending melodies and love stories in one glance.  Only He is strong enough to see the expanse of human frailty and the swelling buds of trees for a thousand springs at once.  It would be our undoing.  Our hearts would melt, and our very frames explode with the weight of a thousand sunsets. 

Count it good fortune that your grief endures many days.  You could never bear it all at once.  The deep anger, confusion, frustration and piercing pain could not be borne at once.  But God has given Time as a great softener of blows, and you are not allowed the full force of great grief.  It comes slowly.  Though it feels like your life is ebbing away with each heartbeat, you are being spared the unspeakable pain of a grief that would devour you, but for Time's staying hand.

Count it good fortune that children are born after nine months of longing.  Each day, your love for them swells a little higher, a little fuller.  The anticipation grows as they do, until it is time to meet them and let their small fingers curl around yours.  A human heart could not endure the swelling of that love in a single tidal wave, leaving a world of underwater rubble. 

Count it good fortune that Love comes on tiptoes, knocks you off your feet and carries you off a hostage.  Arresting your thoughts and rendering you vulnerable, it twirls you until you're dizzy.  Be glad it doesn't happen all at once.  Though each day be unendurably long for waiting to be together, it is better than colliding with the narcotic force of a thousand days with Love in an instant. 

Count it good fortune that books are read one page at a time, and tulips break their way through the winter ground once a year.  You could never hold the magic of a dance, the woeful cry of a Beethoven symphony and the laugh of a child at once.  The capacity of a human heart is limited, and so Time becomes the great gate, allowing one second through, never two at once, lest our mortal fabric be unraveled. 

Grateful for a God who made Time Life's sieve so our human hearts could bear it,

Little Miss Sunshine

Contracts and Construction Paper

It happened.  Glory, Hallelujah, dear goodness, meohmy, it happened.  That interview that I went to on Thursday?  Yeah, well, it worked out.  This has been my week…

Wednesday: Fill out district application

Thursday: Turn in application and interview

Friday: Get hired, have Meet the Teacher Night

Saturday: Work like a headless chicken

Sunday: Work like a headless chicken

Monday: Staff meeting and work like a headless chicken

Tuesday: First day of school and play volleyball with friends (important grownup time)

Wednesday: Second day of school, Bible study, dance the night away

Thursday: Third day of school, everyone's still alive!

It was as if God thought to Himself… She really doesn't think I can find her a job, and she really likes to be in charge and plan ahead, so I'm going to give her a job and no time to plan.  This will grow her faith.  Yes, that's what I'll do.

Well, I'd never claim to know the mind of God, but for some reason He decided to work it out this way.  I'm so glad He did.  I'm working with a great teacher mentor at a school with high standards and a great staff!  It's a little insane being hired four days before the first day of school, but hey, I'm a little insane myself. 

I have 23 beautiful and unique children to teach and lead.  Somewhere during the last 15 years, I've gone from Anne of Green Gables, Little House on the Prairie, and Christy, thinking about my ideal classroom and binders chock full of lesson plans to introducing myself as Miss Sunshine.  I'm living the dream, and it's weird.  I keep thinking it won't be real, that something is too good to be true.  I mean, who am I that I get to do exactly what I want right out of college?! 

So I'm a teacher now, and I love it.  I can foresee some challenges, but I'm already getting that intrinsic reward payoff that makes up for the all encompassing job description and incongruous paycheck.  I'm also beginning to understand how teachers quickly become workaholics.  When there are 22 journals sitting on your desk full of the musings of young writers, not to mention those grammar pre-tests that are supposed to be "informing your instruction", time flies.  Then there are parent communication letters to be written, curriculum to be previewed, oh, and that committee you're on as a part of the "you will teach this grade and be involved in any other activities deemed necessary" part of your contract.  We'll see how I go with keeping up with that.

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine

Tumult of the Soul

I was a mess yesterday.  I don't like being a mess, even a hot one.  I like to be either contentedly placid, knowing everything is going to be fine, or fervently elated, knowing everything is going to be fine.  What I don't like to be is desperately broken over circumstances, knowing everything is going to be fine, or feeling like I'm the only sparrow in a flock of magpies, knowing everything is going to be fine. 

Did you catch the consistency there?  I know everything is going to be fine.  Jesus is coming back.  He's going to do an Extreme Makeover: Planet Edition that would make Ty Pennington green with envy and the most hardened criminal cry his eyes out with joy.  Things are going to be better and brighter, just the way they were supposed to be.  Yay.  Great.  Got it.  So excited. 

So why in the big why world, do I get myself worked up into a mess?  (And when I say mess, I'm talking 2 year old got into the jars of paint while mom wasn't looking mess.)  I was steaming mad, terrified out of my mind, frustrated, excited, stressed, hopeful, and put out with myself that I couldn't just pick one emotion.  Hang emotions, who needs them anyway. 

Here's the story. 

Yesterday, I got scheduled for two interviews for teaching positions.  Enter the terrified out of my mind/excited/hopeful/stressed emotions.  I felt sick.  I had no appetite.  Yeah, all this from the girl who's quotable for saying "stress is optional, not required".  Yay!  It could be a paycheck!  AH!  School starts next week!  There was so much cognitive chaos, I felt like I was having a lightning storm in my brain.  Of course, it wasn't just the truth that was making me nervous - wow, this could be my first real job; what if they ask me hard interview questions; it was those dang lies bouncing around in my head.  There's no way I'll ever be a good teacher.  I'm too young, they'll never hire me.  God has much bigger things to think about than helping me with this job mess. 

Chaos. 

That still, small voice was talking away, but I'd have none of it.  Admitting I was a quivering, shivering little kid would only make me feel more vulnerable and a mess, or so I reasoned.  Poor reasoning, I know.  My saving grace came at 7 that night when I sat myself down for Beth Moore Bible Study at church.  Mmmmm.  That woman has a gift for showing you how God brings light into dark places.  I walked out of there reassured that God does care what the heck happens to me, and it's worth the fight to keep reminding myself of that. 

Today, I scrubbed my face shiny, globbed a professional amount of makeup on, and shrugged on my power suit.  The first interview went well.  Their questions were more theoretical than "tell us about a time when you…" which are always easier for me to answer.  Tortilla chips for lunch.  Took a nap.  I recaptured all my flyaway baby hairs with an extra shot of hairspray and set off for the second interview. 

Their questions were harder, more along the lines of "tell us about a time when you captured a runaway llama in your classroom".  I know, terrifying.  I barely got out alive.  A few phone calls to licensure and fingerprint people later, and I was thoroughly discouraged.  My license is still weeks away from being ready.  I would swear, but it wouldn't help, and you wouldn't like it.  My paperwork is taking longer than I expected.  There's nothing I can do now.  I feel like I neglected things that I should have done at Christmas.  Feeling irresponsible makes me feel like I fail at life, or at least at being a grownup.  Enter, more mad, frustration, tumult of the soul.

Either I will have a job that starts on WEDNESDAY, or I won't and I'll be in Texas hanging out with friends.  Either I have a classroom to decorate and routines to conjure up, or I'm going to the mountains tomorrow to relax while camping with the fam.  Oh, how I love uncertainty.  Not.  

During dinner I got the call… we've filled the position, but thank you for applying.  It was mostly the fingerprint card not being ready issue, etc. etc.  I thanked them and hung up.  I finished my pasta.  What's a little rejection, I thought to myself.  If you can't handle that, you'll never make it.  You're fine.  Fine.  Everything's always fine.  There's even a chance the other interview will turn into a job.  Just wait it out.  

It's one thing to know that and feel that because you're just chugging along in life.  It's another thing to feel like you're lost in the creepy Beauty and the Beast woods and know that Jesus hasn't gone anywhere.  Where is this faith that I claim?  When things get sticky and tricky, am I really that quick to doubt?  HE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE.  Why do I even let myself question that?  He's right where He's always been.  It's a tumult in the soul, a wind screaming, wave tossing soul storm. 

The sun will come out tomorrow, whether or not I have a job and whether or not I feel great about my life.  Stay in the game, kids, Jesus isn't going anywhere.

Adamantly determined to think what is true, 

Little Miss Sunshine

Dear Ladies, Some Advice from the Man You're Dancing with

In my last post, I addressed some things to the guys we dance with.  Do smell good, do ask us to dance even if you're not amazing, don't throw us like yoyos, etc.  I thought it only fair to write to the other half of the dancing population.  Being  a girl, and not having the corner market on male mind analysis, I outsourced.  This is an expanded version of what the men I talked to had to say.

Dear Ladies,

1. Follow the leader.

Dancing is not a three legged race.  The party of the first part and the party of the second part do not have equal… parts.  It is the man's job to lead and the lady's job to follow.  I know, you're a 21st century liberated, accomplished woman and you don't need a man to lead you around by the hand.  Well, this is dancing, not the office, so let the man lead.  I don't care if you've studied under George Balanchine, don't try to take over.  It'll make you both look bad.  Guys aren't opposed to you teaching them a new move now and then, but don't try to compete for the leadership role. 

"Be a good follower, i.e. let the guy lead.

"Just because I'm supposed to be leading doesn't mean I know everything.  If you know something I don't, I'm willing and wanting to learn."

2. Forgive us our peccadillos.

In short, guys feel bad enough when they step on our toes or have choreographical freeze ups without us giving them dirty looks.  To quote my sources…

"Be ok with laughing off mistakes."

"We will step on your feet.  Every time.  Please don't get angry when we do."

Give them some grace.  They're trying to figure out how to lead, where to twirl you next, and whether or not a dip is appropriate.  When it comes to the question of "are we human or are we dancers" (thanks, Killers) the answer is human. 

3. Flash us a smile.

There's a lot of pressure on guys when they dance with you.  As mentioned above, they’re attempting to multitask.  In most cases, men are trying to lead you around the dance floor and treat you like a lady.  They might have two left feet.  They might have never learned what it means to treat a lady well, but they're trying.  I hate to compare our warrior poet/kinsmen redeemer/brave hearted hero brothers to puppies, but when they're trying hard and having some successes, smile at them!  Let them know you appreciate their efforts.  Show them you're having fun!

"Smile, relax, have fun… if you're not having fun dancing, why are you doing it in the first place?"

"SMILE: a good sign he's doing a good job and you're at least having fun even though he's stepping on your feet."

"If you're a better dancer, he probably already knows this and there's no need to make him feel insecure."

4. Come dressed for success.

I can endorse this one with a Sunshine stamp of approval.  From a modesty standpoint, it's important to think about the duds you're donning for a night of dancing.  Don't make guys feel awkward by deep v's down to your belly button.  Not classy.  From a practical perspective, though, think through the kind of outfit you'll need.  Short skirts and passionate twirling do not mix.  Avoid straps that you know will slide down your shoulders, it's annoying.  Don't wear long sleeves and pants in the summer, or you'll be uh, damp, and that's gross. 

"Clothing choice is also something important, not necessarily on the modesty issue, but on the ability of the clothes to facilitate dancing (i.e. not heels or super tight dresses).  Oh, slider shorts are a must."

5. Nod and smile when we ask you to dance.

Ladies, I don't quite understand this phenomenon, but women can scare the bravest of men just by being women.  It's hard for them to ask us to dance.  They sign million dollar contracts, they do open heart surgeries, they take on 300lb linebackers on the field, but when it comes to girls, they get a little weak in the knees.  I know, to us it doesn't seem that complicated.  We want to dance; they ask us to dance; we say yes, but the poor guys are shaking in their boots, so be nice and say yes. 

"Dance with any guy who is brave enough to ask (creepers are an exception)."

"She said yes, I said wow" - Brad Paisley

There you have it, ladies, the inside scoop on what men appreciate on the dance floor.  Thanks to all my inside sources!

Happy twirling,

Little Miss Sunshine

Sources

http://www.goodeveningworld.com/mens-tie-how-to-choose-the-perfect-one/

http://www.merriam-webster.com/

http://www.lyrics007.com/Brad%20Paisley%20Lyrics/She%20Said%20Yes%20Lyrics.html

http://www.metrolyrics.com/human-lyrics-the-killers.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Balanchine