Confession 63

My bloggery has been sorely neglected this past month, and I do apologize.  It's not that the PCs (precious children) have not been saying funny things or that I've run away and become a lion tamer, it's just that I haven't been writing much in the last few weeks.  Last night I posted a small adventure in Pinterest testing, but I have a hunch you really read this blog to hear about my 22 children and other outlandish scrapes and escapades… not how to take a layer of dirt off your face. 

If you ask me how teaching is going, I'll say this: "Oh, so great.  It's the hardest thing I've ever done, but it's great."  I know I'll say this because people keep asking, and that's what keeps popping out of my mouth.  I won't talk too much about the depths of difficulty, but you can read about that here, if you really want to. 

I have successfully survived being a teacher for 1 semester and 1 week.  YAY.  What's more, my 22 PCs have survived my tutelage for that long.  You might shrug that off and say that I'm made to be a teacher and of course they survived.  Why should I be surprised that they're all still there? 

Confession  #63: Buoyant, chipper, optimistic Little Miss Sunshine often finds herself riddled with self-doubt. 

The task seems a mountainous one, nearly insurmountable.  Educate these children.  Take them as they are, broken and wacky or sometimes sad family lives, unique talents, quirky as a chameleon, and teach them how to multiply, write a persuasive essay, what the Judicial Branch does, and what it means to live with integrity.  Make sure you're treating them fairly, but not equally, as each one needs something different.  Make sure you're pushing them hard, but don't wear them out.  Bring the low ones up to grade level, but challenge the advanced ones so they don't get bored. 

Make your teaching active, hands on, interdisciplinary, connected to real life.  Give them practice working solo and in groups because they'll need that when they go out into the real world.  Teach them how to read a science text, but also how to identify the rise and fall of plot as their favorite fictional characters live out their dreams.  Love them.  Be firm.  Be creative.  Be punctual.  Be organized.  Be intuitive.  Be professional.  Be personal.  Be sympathetic, but don't let them walk on you.

And I chose this.  It's my dream job.  Who am I to admit that "living the dream" scares the socks off of me and makes me want to stay under the covers some mornings.  Who am I to complain that something I chose is really hard. 

Inadequacy follows me like a shadow.  When friends reassure me that I'm a good teacher, all I can think of is how I could have taught number lines with leap frog instead of just using white board games.  When people say I'm a natural, all I can think of is how I forgot to write the parent newsletter last week.  I discount their praise because I know they don't know the full story.  I know how I failed today and yesterday and the day before that. 

Is that fair?  Is it fair to set myself up as a goddess, knowing better than the wisest people in my life?  To discount their encouragement because I don't think it's warranted?  Hold the phone.  Is all this fear stuff really just a bunch of pride and faithlessness? 

What I'm thinking:  I can't do this.

What I'm really thinking:  God will not actually keep His promise to sustain me in what He's called me to do.

What I'm thinking:  This is too hard!

What I'm really thinking:  I don't really trust God to give me the strength to survive difficult circumstances.

What I'm thinking:  I suck at teaching.

What I'm really thinking:  I have unrealistic expectations for a first year teacher, and I'm ignoring the encouragement of my coworkers, principal, family and friends. 

When you put it like that, the mask of inadequacy comes off and just looks like pride.  Maybe my job isn't that huge, or hard, or insurmountable.  After all, I serve a God who calls the stars by name.  

Overcome by grace, again,

Little Miss Sunshine