No worries.

Those of you who know me know that it's not uncommon for me to... try to... be able to... direct the course... of... life. 

Okay, you can stop laughing now. I'm a control freak.

I like to be in control of most aspects of my life. I like to organize, to plan, to know exactly what's going to happen. And when I can't be in control I worry. And to deal with the worry, I compensate for my lack of control by trying to force things to happen. While I consider my patience with others a virtue, patience with things beyond my realm control and influence are a little harder for me to deal with. So, I've resorted to using the force, the dark side and the light side, to try to at least give me the false sense of control and security. 

Example: when Mark and I were watching the entire series of "LOST" on Netflix and I couldn't BEAR the heartbreak of my favorite characters dying, I Wikipedia-ed it so I could prepare myself in advance. I also did that with "Battlestar Galactica." And "Olympus Has Fallen." And season 8 of  "How I Met Your Mother."

Another example: When my nephew was having major surgery, I randomly decided to clean the refrigerator. 

It wasn't even my refrigerator. 

Come to think of it, anytime I'm upset or worried about anything, I tend to clean. As though scrubbing like crazy will wash away the problem.

But that's just it, isn't it? The problem? The real problem is not the situation that has sent me into a downward spiral of yellow rubber gloves, swiffer mops, and overdosing on Wikipedia plot summaries. The real problem is my lack of faith.

Ouch.

Just as I was coming to this realization last night, at a friend's encouragement, I read Matthew 6:25-34. Each verse brought a bit more clarity... and shame.

Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? 

You belittle yourself and forget your own value. You are worth so much in God's eyes. Of course He'll take care of you. You are precious.

And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? 

Worrying just eats away at the joy each day brings and it still doesn't change anything. It causes you to waste precious time.

...You of little faith! 

Ouch.

For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

God knows exactly what you need and has a plan to give it to you. In His time. But you must seek Him. Have faith in His timing. Trust his love for you and love Him. 

So, there it is folks. Just trust God and life will be peachy. Thanks for reading!

Love, Liz.

Wait, what? No, it's not that easy. Not even close. Because you all well know, and I have thoroughly established that I am a control hound. And in order to not worry myself to death over things beyond my control, I need to do something. I can say "I trust God" all day long and still not experience peace. And when I don't feel peace then suddenly I'm resorting to my own devices again just to try to feel better, to feel I have some inkling of control.  (See also: I cleaned someone else's fridge.)

So what can I do? Pragmatically speaking, what does "seeking God" look like? 

To answer this question, I did what all millennials do: I googled it. Here's what popped up.

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Phillipians 4:6-7)

I have to say, I was somewhat disheartened by this. I've read these verses time and time again and have been praying frequently about my concerns and, while it afforded me peace for a little while, the worry still crept back in. Slowly but surely, the worry clouded my focus and I was suddenly disinfecting the trash can and cleaning the dryer vent. 

But when I read it again, I realized that I have been missing some key instructions. 

"Supplication" means to pray to God with earnest and humility, remembering He has already given so much more than any of us deserve. So step one, humble myself before God. I have no right to ask Him for anything, yet His word encourages me to make my requests known.

And then the real epiphany: with thanksgiving. This is the part I had been leaving out. I went to God complaining about all that was wrong and that worried me. But when I did, it never occurred to me to truly humble myself and pray to him with Thanksgiving.

So, I tried it. I started thanking Him for the things that were right: my family, my job, a warm home, my health, my safety, His love. And as the list went on I suddenly felt shame again; shame that in spite of all the blessings in my life I still felt that I needed or deserved more. Realizing that God had provided as the book of Matthew promised he would I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders, a burden set free from my heart. I began feeling God's promised peace and as I did I was thirsty for more wisdom, more instructions.

So I googled again. 

But let all who take refuge in You be glad, Let them ever sing for joy... (Psalm 5:11)

 That's it. The stopper in the bottle that keeps the worry out and the peace in: worship. It's not enough to realize we are blessed. It's not enough to give thanks for our blessings. To truly experience God's peace we have to take every opportunity to praise him for his goodness. In my world, that means singing, music, reading, writing, and sharing love and joy with those around me. 

The thing I'm still trying to come to terms with is my humanity. The fact that, as a human, I am programmed to worry. It's normal, and given God's provision in the scripture (and google) He knows that about me and the rest of humanity. It's not a test, it's human nature.

The test lies in how we handle the worry. We can let it eat us alive, ruining the few precious days we have here. We can let it steal away our joy. We can let it cause us to have the cleanest house ever (well, actually... no nevermind.)

Or, we can humble ourselves and talk to God about it. We can thank God for what we have and don't deserve. We can ever sing for joy that there is a God who knows us and loves us anyway, who listens to us even when what we have to say might not be that important in the grand scheme of things, and who provides and protects us because we are His.

Today, I feel great. Life is not perfect; there are still some big decisions coming up, some improvements to be made, and struggles we'll face. And I will worry, because I'm human and I'm me and that's what I do. But at least now I have a plan, a strategy for dealing with those feelings of doubt and worry. 

I'm a firm believer that in order to kick bad habits, you have to replace the negative behavior with a positive one. As I was googling, I ran across an article that put it this way: Worry replaced by Prayer equals Trust. Now, I've never been once for math and equations but I'd like to complicate this one just a bit:

Worry+Prayer+Humility+Thanksgiving+Worship=Faith in Action

I don't know if it'll work every time, but I do know that it's a good start to living a life with no worries.

Who cares?

As I’ve discussed the impact of the latest budget on education in North Carolina, I have wondered what I could possibly write that would express what I’m feeling about the situation.  Every time I sit and try to write my ability to articulate my thoughts becomes overwhelmed by a multitude of feelings: anger, disappointment, fear.

There was a time not too long ago that I thought I would be a teacher forever. There was a time not too long ago when I told people that I absolutely loved everything about my job. Sadly, it only took two years of teaching in a North Carolina Public School to become totally disenchanted and disappointed.

It should be understood that I absolutely, without doubt, love working with young people. I love teaching, I love field trips, I love training for competitions. I love any school activity that involves trying to positively impact the children who cross my path. What I did not realize when I began teaching two years ago was that our law makers believe my work with students to be a rather insignificant part of teaching. In fact, they put far more emphasis on test scores, curricula, paper trails, observations, PLC’s, trainings, budgets, meetings, and ANYTHING else they can possibly squeeze into the already busy life of a teacher.

Never mind that the jobs we were hired to do. Never mind the lives that teachers often neglect outside of school. Never mind the children. Never mind our future.

If this budget is a reflection of the values of our general assembly, and the general assembly is representative of the state of North Carolina, then this is what I have learned about our state’s beliefs:

1. The people who educate our children don’t need a solid education themselves, and certainly not an advanced degree. In fact, an achievement such as a Master’s Degree might actually lead educators to believe that they are professionals worthy of respect and valued for their skills, passion, and commitment to children. And we wouldn't want that.
2. Children should be provided with skills that will help them to be successful in a future career… as long as the time spent developing those skills does not infringe on the student’s ability to sharpen his No. 2 pencil and neatly darken the bubble with the letter of the correct answer choice. Especially since these tests hold the students accountable for their learning (wait, what?) and NOW serve as a measure of the teacher’s efficiency. In addition, these tests will also take into account the number of days a student missed school, the below average reading level of the student, various learning disabilities, poor home life, poverty, illness, teenage pregnancy, depression, anxiety, language barriers, gang involvement…  what’s that? There’s nowhere to bubble all that on the scantron? Oh. Nevermind then.
3. Scholarships are awesome! We LOVE scholarships! There should be lots more of them. Just not scholarships, like the Teaching Fellows program, that encourage individuals to pursue teaching and support them in becoming highly effective teachers. I mean, it’s not like you get paid any more if you’re good at it than if you’re not. And really, who needs good teachers anyway?
4. Teachers have super powers. How can you tell? Well, we’ve done away with any provision to reduce class sizes. So now, one teacher could have say, 35 kids on any given day. And since these teachers are so extraordinary they don’t assistants either.  In fact, we should just insult and demoralize anyone who has direct contact with school children. Then, maybe they’ll actually forget that they are, in fact, highly educated and dedicated professionals who have been insulted with a meager 1.2% pay raise over the last six years, frozen salary schedules, and “professional development” that would imply that they never had any pedagogical training whatsoever.

Shall I go on? For the sake of my blood pressure, I’ll stop there.

I’ve always, always wanted to be a teacher. Never once throughout my entire childhood, college, student teaching, and graduate school, did I ever even consider another career. I love working with young people. I love guiding them as they learn new things and seeing them light up when “get it.” I love celebrating their successes, no matter how small they are. I love knowing that at the end of the day, no matter how challenging a day it may have been, I had the opportunity to make a difference in the world. And for now, all those wonderful things outweigh all the ugly things that are out my control.

Unfortunately, I doubt that all teachers feel that way right now. I fear that for many teachers, especially really good teachers who know their own worth, the scale is going to tip the other way. And little by little, those really good teachers will leave our students in search of greener pastures: a salary on which they can support a family, job satisfaction and security, respect. So then, honorable legislators, where does that leave North Carolina education?

I don’t know why I asked. It’s pretty obvious that they could care less.

Learning is Fun by Nature

Many of the blogs I read and workshops I attend use the same phrase when describing various teaching techniques; they call them ways to "make learning fun." However lately, I've come to the conclusion that learning, by nature, is fun. Example: While at my parent's house over Thanksgiving, I must have run the battery on my smartphone dead 3 times simply looking up random facts and answers to various questions. (For the record, that is meant to be a testament to how many things I researched, not to my poor battery life.) I learned that there are different genus of plants known as "mistletoe" and how to identify the species that were poisonous. I also learned that difference between sweet potatoes and yams, that Butler University is in Indianapolis (Who's Butler, you ask? Ask UNC. They'll tell you) and that Tim Tebow is a month and a half younger than me (yet makes so much more money.) Why was I looking for all this information? Because it was fun.

I think that it is human nature to want to learn. To want to know more about the world and how it works. And so by nature, learning is fun. So the key in education is not to make learning fun. If your students are truly learning they should be having fun by default. The key, then, is to make sure that your students are truly learning. Encourage them to ask questions and then go find the answers. Sell your subject matter, whatever it is. Even if it is the worst topic ever (*cough*cough*soil science*cough*) if your students believe that it is something you appreciate and that it is important in this world, they will want to know what it is. They will want to know, want to learn, want to understand. Why? Because it's fun!

They are why we teach...

The past three weeks have been THE most challenging weeks of my teaching career so far. Granted, that's only about a year and a half, but I always thought that the first year was the hardest. But the happenings of the last couple of weeks have been things that no college class, no student teaching experience, no workshop, and no text book could have ever prepared me for.

Let's back up to two weeks ago; I have learned that "Teacher Work Days" and "Professional Development" is teacher code for paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. As I sat in our "Professional Development" session listening to all the stuff that was expected of me I became more and more discouraged. This was not what I signed up for. I'm here to teach, to coach, to mentor, to work with students. Not to write papers and sit through meetings that won't have an impact on my ability to teach in any way. But as the "stuff" piled up, so did the discouragement and for the first time in my entire life I started wondering, "what could I do besides teach?" (And for those of you who know me, you know that when I say "my entire life" I mean, my entire life. All I've wanted to do since I learned what a teacher was is to be a teacher.)

As the weeks went on, so did the assignments, paperwork, needless meetings, and flaming hoops to jump through. I'd had all I could take. I stayed late on Friday night doing all the things I needed to get done so that I could go home and spend Saturday and Sunday thinking about anything besides school.

Boy, was I wrong.

Around 1:30am on Saturday I received a call that the unthinkable had happened. Four of our students were in a very serious car accident, and one of them didn't make it. His name was Ronald. He was a proud FFA member and fire fighter. He was on our Hunter Safety Team. He was on our Tool ID team. He was at every meeting causing roars of laughter everywhere he went. He was a hard worker, probably the hardest working student I've ever taught. He was mischievous, and silly, and funny, and caring... and now he was gone.

This is the hardest thing about teaching that I have ever experienced. Harder than any assignment or duty or workshop or professional development. And it took me until Saturday afternoon when I was talking to my teaching partner understand why exactly this was so hard: because this was meaningful.

I realized in that moment that I don't teach because I think it is absolutely imperative that every student in the world be able to calculate board feet or remember the formula for photosynthesis or remember what comes between the gizzard and the cloaca in a chicken. I teach because I like helping students. And in 30 years, no matter if I'm teaching or if I've moved on to another calling in life, I won't remember what his grade was or what he scored on the final. I won't remember if he was able to demonstrate higher order thinking skills during our Paideia. But I will remember how he found a hand full of zip ties and attached them to everything he could in my classroom (there's still one on my door knob that I can't get off.) And I will remember how he taped his initials on the wall and when I made him take it down he took the paint down with it. And I will remember how he looked so goofy with his Wranglers tucked inside his cowboy boots and how he didn't care that he looked goofy.

And those are the things I will remember because those are the things that are meaningful, the things that mattered.

I have spent the last 3 days worrying, not over my lesson plans, but over my students. I haven't been very good at attendance and I haven't done a great job getting my purchase orders to the bookkeeper or signing in and out, but I have tried to be there for my students every possible moment because they are what matters. They are all that matters. They are why we teach. And if we neglect them, then we negate our entire purpose for being here. If we allow the paperwork, and the politics, and the stuff to take priority over them, then we have failed them.

They are what matters. They are all that matters. They are why. we. teach.

A picture's worth a thousand words? Enough said.

For quite a while a print out of this picture has hung on various bulletin boards at my workstations from my office in Patterson to my office at home to my classroom for a couple of reasons. First, it’s just a funny picture. And who doesn’t need some comic relief every once in a while?

But my real attraction to this picture goes beyond hilarity of that poor little donkey’s woes. When I look at this picture, I see more than a few laughs… I see a thousand words.

I see that every creature on earth, even teachers and donkeys, have a limit to the amount of life they can take one at one time. They can only pull so much weight before they start to become overwhelmed by the staggering weight of all the tasks and responsibilities that they take upon themselves or that are thrust upon them.

I see that once a person reaches this point of being totally overwhelmed they cease to make progress; they no longer can move forward. Instead, the weight of life overcomes even the greatest strength, the strongest will, and the deepest passion.

I see that when the weight of life manages to finally throw its carrier off balance, it is not a pleasant experience for that carrier. It is obvious that this donkey, known for his stubbornness but not his intelligence, is highly displeased with the situation. He dangles helplessly; ears pinned back and ready to come down kicking. And he’s just a donkey. Imagine how amplified his poor donkey feelings would be if they belonged to a human: one with a full understanding of how important each responsibility is and who would be let down when the carrier of that responsibility failed.

I see that the problem now is that the likelihood that our donkey will be able to get himself down without some assistance or without a change in his load is very small. And if he can’t get down, he can’t move forward at all. Even if he could handle pulling the weight, he would never be able to get his feet on the ground to begin with. He can’t even unload anything from the cart himself because he’s stuck in the air! So now not only is he ashamed that he has failed to complete the tasks, and angry with himself to have let down those who were counting on him, he’s also frustrated because, unless something changes, there is nothing he can do about it.

I see that the only solution to this problem is to ask for help. For humans, who can often be very donkey-esque, overcoming our stubborn pride to ask for help can often be one of the hardest things we could ever have to do. But it is necessary to realize it is necessary. We may have the benefit of opposable thumbs, but in a situation where we have been outweighed and defeated, we have no more chance of overcoming the challenge along than that donkey.

I see that, although a donkey suspended in mid-air seems unnatural and problematic to me, the people around him and his cart seem totally unfazed by the sight. They don’t have alarmed expressions on their faces, nor do they seem to be hurrying to unload the cart or pull the poor beast down. Was it a human, I’d say it was because we are so expert in hiding our struggles that it is often difficult to spot. Which once again reminds me: help won’t show up unless you ask for it.  Ask and ye shall receive, don’t ask and ye shall suffer, suspended eternally in midair with the shame and anger and frustration and (surely) sadness of the situation.

I see that we are not donkeys. This donkey, a prized work animal, stood obediently by as his owner no doubt piled all of those boxes on the cart he was to pull. We however have the luxury of the word “no.” Though so rarely we use it, we have the choice to take on projects or to say “No, thanks. I can’t.” We have the ability to judge how full our plates are and if we can in fact handle another package. The key is learning that it is okay to say “no.” That it doesn’t make us an “ass” if we say “no.” In fact, it makes us quite the opposite. It makes us the anti-ass. We aren’t standing idly by letting someone pile tasks on us that we can’t possibly do a quality job completing because we are spread so thin. We are learning what we can do and when we can do it and having the strength to say when enough is enough.

I see that from the opposite end of the spectrum, it is important to be aware of how we load the carts of others. Even if the person pulling the load says they can handle it, it’s important to be aware of the weight they’ve been given and to be there to help them pull if the load becomes too heavy and starts to lift them into ineffectiveness. As leaders, it’s our job to delegate responsibly and monitor progress. If we are doing our jobs correctly, no one gets weighed down, everyone makes progress, and everyone benefits from that progress.

I see that it’s important to tie on our responsibilities with the right type of material. In the picture, the rope that is attempting to hold the boxes on the cart is tattered, torn, and weak. It is limp, not pulled tight, and the knots that have been tied with it are unraveling. This reminds me of the way we can take on responsibilities that don’t fall into our passions. We should be taking on different aspects of life because we care about them, because we love them and we know what good can come from them. We should be taking on areas of life that we are passionate about because if we feel even the least bit of apathy toward it, we will not produce quality results. That responsibility will get put on the bottom of the pile, crushed and battered and abused; and someone, somewhere down the line will suffer because of it. My dad always said, “If it’s not worth doing right, why do it?” We have to choose things that we feel are worth doing right. Then that passion will help bind that responsibility. And the results produced will be the quality that everyone involved deserves.

Wow. That was exactly 1000 words. But 1000 words later, what does it all really mean? Well, to be frank…

Don’t be an ass.

YOU might be an Ag Teacher

In the early 90's, southern comedian and redneck enthusiast Jeff Foxworthy popularized the saying, "You might be a redneck...." Since then, we have learned the many tell-tale signs that indicate that we too might be rednecks, including (but not limited to):

• You ever cut your grass and found a car.
• There are more than five McDonald's bags in your car.
• You think a subdivision is part of a math problem.
• Someone asks to see your ID and you show them your belt buckle.
• You consider a good tan to be the back of of your neck and the left arm below the shirt sleeve.

I could go on, but I digress. My point here is, there are some tell-tale signs for all of us that allude to our quirks, our habits, our lifestyles, and our jobs. And the Agriculture Teacher is not excluded from having such identifying characteristics. Observe.

YOU might be an Ag Teacher if...

• You use the botanical name of a plant to try to guess a correct answer on the game "Draw Something."
• Your students think you are a livestock sex-ed teacher.
• There is potting soil stuck between the keys on your keyboard.
• You teach mathematical concepts that cause students to exclaim, "Wow! I might actually use this one day!"
• You are busier in the summer than you are during the school year.
• Your students mimic secret service agents and give you the code name "Gray Owl" while touring Washington, D.C.
• A student cries in your classroom on the first day of school because she just learned her leather Coach bag is made of a moo-cow.
• You give your family members Florida Farm Bureau fruit for Christmas.
• You get antsy in workshops and meetings if you aren't doing hands on activities.
• Your officers expect you to end all your text messages to them with the words "and a goat."
• You recite the FFA Creed in the shower every so often so your can show your students just how EASY it is.
• You love seeing kids in that beautiful blue corduroy (and you're secretly a little sad you don't get to wear that 1933 fashion statement anymore.)
• In-Service meetings, conferences, and conventions are like college class reunions.

Any of this sound familiar to anyone? Maybe it's just me :-P

Have any of your own? Share!

Green and growing

It has been raining for three whole days. The sky is gray. The ground is squishy and covered in mud. But today on my drive to work I noticed something. Even though the sky is dark and gray and dreary as ever, even though the fog and steam bring an eerie presence to every landscape, somehow the world around the sadness seems brighter. After 3 days, the grass is greener than I’ve seen it all year. The crape myrtles are blooming in vibrant and beautiful pinks and whites and lavenders. The annuals are happy and healthy, the cotton is beginning to blossom; everything that has waited through the heat and the drought all summer has somehow managed to capture every nourishing drop of this monsoon and use it for good. In fact, it’s the best “good” I’ve seen all summer.

When it rains like this it’s not uncommon that I begin to equate the rain with sadness. I begin to remember challenges and pain and sadness. I think of those droughts: times when I kept waiting and waiting and hoping for things to turn around and all that happened was something that, at the time, just seemed even worse. But today I realize that each of those times taught me something. Each of those challenges encouraged me to grow. Every heartache made me appreciate and be grateful for all I have. But without those experiences, without those dreary days of rain, I would never have grown, never have learned… I would just be sitting in a drought, drying up and waiting.

The truth is we need rain in our lives. And we all hate to admit it; just ask any child who ever missed out on a day at the pool because it rained. But we as humans need the storms of life so that we too can grow and blossom. And while the storms are raging, our struggles seem so much greater than any good that could come from them. But if we can remember that we need the storms, not that we just need to get through them but we need them, then when the time is right we will be ready to endure the rain and learn to use it—grow from it and do things greater than ourselves. There is purpose in everything that happens. There is good in every storm. And if we can keep from drying out while we're waiting, when the storm comes we’ll see the good, and we’ll be better, greener, for it.