Substitute teaching is a job with many pros and cons. I love that I can take days off whenever I want, that the work day is short (8 hours-tops), and that when the day is over, whatever it was, "it's not my problem". It can, however, also be a stressful job. You never know exactly what type of situation you are walking into and classroom management is rarely easy. You have to be "on" every minute of the day. A lot of my assignments so far this year have been in special education classrooms, and I have discovered that these are my favorite assignments.
Yesterday I spent a delightful day in a Post High School classroom. This is where students attend when they've graduated for high school. It provides services until they reach age 26. The student were odd and quirky, at times a bit rude (burping was the name of the game), but eager to please hard working. We had a lot of laughter throughout our day. We worked on academics and life skills, went to job sites, and worked out at the Y. But more than anything, these "kids" had a warm and loving place to spend their day and work on skills and habits to help them be independent in life.
Sometimes I think we make life too complicated; we make God too complicated. The students I worked with yesterday, or in the Autism class last week, or the basic classroom the week before, don't usually contemplate great questions in life. They face struggles and challenges that we can't imagine. But you know what? Most of them also face life with a smile. I saw this so much in Argentina with Andres. No one in that school knew more pain, yet no one knew more joy, and I know that was not a coincidence. Andres loved God deeply and fully, in a way that I don't know if I am able to. He wasn't hindered by my doubts and distractions.
I hope I get more jobs working with the special students in the community around me (One of those teachers already has me reserved for a day in October and a day in November). Those students are so much more open to life, open to love. It's there that I have found my niche as a sub, giving them their space to be their quirky selves, supporting them through challenges, and guiding them through their day. They have so much to teach us, if we take the time to listen.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Master Plan
The sub job I have this week is a little slow, so it didn't take me long to read a short biography titled "It Is Well with My Soul: The Extraordinary Life of a 106-Year-Old Woman" by/about Ella Mae Cheeks Johnson. It's a quick read, but the kind of book that you want to slow down and savor at the same time.
Several quotes jumped out to me as I read and I thought, I have to remember that one. The first quote was, "I just wanted to see the wider world, and think about my place in it. When I look back over the course of my life, I realize I never had a master plan; I let the Master plan." This really struck me because so many times I can relate to that. I definitely don't have the life I thought I would when I was a child, and in the past 18 months I've done a lot of thinking about where my life is going and where I want it to go. And the truth is, even though I have goals, they remain vague, and I don't have a 'master plan' per se. I know that I want to honor and glorify God in all I do. I know that I want to be where he wants me, where I can use the gifts and talents that he has given me for his glory. I want the very best thing that is available: to know Christ- so I want to know him more deeply and more fully. And I want whatever leads me to those things. Which doesn't exactly answer a lot of the logistical questions in life... which is, I suppose, why I can rest, knowing that even without a master plan, the Master has a plan. What a comfort that is in this time of transition and wondering!
This is the other quote that really struck me: "The most important lesson I've learned over the course of a lifetime: not just surviving, or getting along, but being useful. Too often we remember, "Ask and ye shall receive; seek and ye shall find," and we believe all we have to do is ask. When we don't get the response we seek right away, we think our prayer has gone unanswered. Patience is essential. Heaven is always here, within us, if we have the patience to discover it. Sometimes we pray for things that we aren't, in fact, supposed to get- things that are bad for us. Maybe "no answer" means we need more time to discover that answer on our own, or to find out that another choice is possible. Not having a prayer answered right away doesn't mean He doesn't care; maybe He thinks this is just not the time. Maybe there's something else in the future that will help. Compassion is patience in its essence. As it says in Psalm 27, "Wait on the Lord: Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine heart."'
Several quotes jumped out to me as I read and I thought, I have to remember that one. The first quote was, "I just wanted to see the wider world, and think about my place in it. When I look back over the course of my life, I realize I never had a master plan; I let the Master plan." This really struck me because so many times I can relate to that. I definitely don't have the life I thought I would when I was a child, and in the past 18 months I've done a lot of thinking about where my life is going and where I want it to go. And the truth is, even though I have goals, they remain vague, and I don't have a 'master plan' per se. I know that I want to honor and glorify God in all I do. I know that I want to be where he wants me, where I can use the gifts and talents that he has given me for his glory. I want the very best thing that is available: to know Christ- so I want to know him more deeply and more fully. And I want whatever leads me to those things. Which doesn't exactly answer a lot of the logistical questions in life... which is, I suppose, why I can rest, knowing that even without a master plan, the Master has a plan. What a comfort that is in this time of transition and wondering!
This is the other quote that really struck me: "The most important lesson I've learned over the course of a lifetime: not just surviving, or getting along, but being useful. Too often we remember, "Ask and ye shall receive; seek and ye shall find," and we believe all we have to do is ask. When we don't get the response we seek right away, we think our prayer has gone unanswered. Patience is essential. Heaven is always here, within us, if we have the patience to discover it. Sometimes we pray for things that we aren't, in fact, supposed to get- things that are bad for us. Maybe "no answer" means we need more time to discover that answer on our own, or to find out that another choice is possible. Not having a prayer answered right away doesn't mean He doesn't care; maybe He thinks this is just not the time. Maybe there's something else in the future that will help. Compassion is patience in its essence. As it says in Psalm 27, "Wait on the Lord: Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine heart."'
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Wardrobe Change
Transition: movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another; change.
I'm switching my wardrobe today, changing out the summer clothes for the fall. It's not a task I like. For one, I like summer clothes. For another, I like warm weather and I'm not one of those people who gets excited about sweatshirts and football and big pots of chili. I realized this week just how much shorter summer is in Michigan than in Buenos Aires, and how much cooler fall is here. I wore shoes yesterday for the first time (other than running shoes) since I got off the plane in June and promptly grew blisters. Lovely. And after just three years in Bs As, something in me says that spring should be just around the corner. But it's not, and that is part of transition. Which brings me to the third reason I'm not so excited to switch my clothes today: my wardrobe has been a puzzle of moving parts since Christmas (when I started moving items home) and I growing tired of trying to predict which items I'll need (or want) in the weeks or months ahead.
At the same time, I look for the positives in the change: more cups of tea, wearing scarves, discovering more clothes that I can donate, less shaving. It's the little things in life, no?
I'm switching my wardrobe today, changing out the summer clothes for the fall. It's not a task I like. For one, I like summer clothes. For another, I like warm weather and I'm not one of those people who gets excited about sweatshirts and football and big pots of chili. I realized this week just how much shorter summer is in Michigan than in Buenos Aires, and how much cooler fall is here. I wore shoes yesterday for the first time (other than running shoes) since I got off the plane in June and promptly grew blisters. Lovely. And after just three years in Bs As, something in me says that spring should be just around the corner. But it's not, and that is part of transition. Which brings me to the third reason I'm not so excited to switch my clothes today: my wardrobe has been a puzzle of moving parts since Christmas (when I started moving items home) and I growing tired of trying to predict which items I'll need (or want) in the weeks or months ahead.
At the same time, I look for the positives in the change: more cups of tea, wearing scarves, discovering more clothes that I can donate, less shaving. It's the little things in life, no?
Friday, September 10, 2010
Better than free
I'm fresh off my first day of subbing, well, my first day since January of 2004! I spent my day in an elementary CI classroom- for the non-educators out there, CI stands for cognitively impaired, which is the new term for mentally impaired. The day was 9 kids, 2 aides, me and some vague lesson plans. I was suddenly very grateful for the week I spent filling in the PreK class last year at BAICA- it gave me a few ideas for what we could do and how we could structure our time. The day went as well as I could have hoped, I suppose, for a challenging assignment, and I found myself thinking about fishing on the way home.
We all know the line about teaching a man to fish instead of just giving him a fish, but what I realized today is that many people around the world don't need either one, the lesson or the fish, they just need the opportunity to fish. Many, many wonderful family and friends have helped me out this summer, whether it was a meal or a ride, a tank of gas or a place to stay. And all of that has been absolutely incredible. But it still doesn't compare to the feeling of being able to work, to do something you know, and to contribute something to the world. The few dollars I made subbing today or prepping roses last week (long story) are meaningful to me because afterward I am tired- I have done something called work, and it was good. I look forward to that first paycheck when I can go buy some black work shoes (I wore through my last pair on the cobblestones of Argentina), not simply because I need the shoes, but because I will have worked for them. The work is the gift, and despite the price of blisters, aches, pains or frustration, it's still better than free.
It makes me think about those who live day in and day out in poverty, who struggle to survive in developing countries. We send aid, but how much better would it be if we created opportunities to work? Opportunities which paid enough to lift them out of poverty (even if it raised the price of our t-shirt), opportunities that gave them something meaningful to do, something that they could take pride in. Imagine a world where farming and harvesting paid the bills, a world where lettuce was more expensive but those who picked it could afford to buy it. And yes, some of those people will need to "learn how to fish", but whether they're learning or they already know, it doesn't matter if they don't have the opportunity to do it.
We all know the line about teaching a man to fish instead of just giving him a fish, but what I realized today is that many people around the world don't need either one, the lesson or the fish, they just need the opportunity to fish. Many, many wonderful family and friends have helped me out this summer, whether it was a meal or a ride, a tank of gas or a place to stay. And all of that has been absolutely incredible. But it still doesn't compare to the feeling of being able to work, to do something you know, and to contribute something to the world. The few dollars I made subbing today or prepping roses last week (long story) are meaningful to me because afterward I am tired- I have done something called work, and it was good. I look forward to that first paycheck when I can go buy some black work shoes (I wore through my last pair on the cobblestones of Argentina), not simply because I need the shoes, but because I will have worked for them. The work is the gift, and despite the price of blisters, aches, pains or frustration, it's still better than free.
It makes me think about those who live day in and day out in poverty, who struggle to survive in developing countries. We send aid, but how much better would it be if we created opportunities to work? Opportunities which paid enough to lift them out of poverty (even if it raised the price of our t-shirt), opportunities that gave them something meaningful to do, something that they could take pride in. Imagine a world where farming and harvesting paid the bills, a world where lettuce was more expensive but those who picked it could afford to buy it. And yes, some of those people will need to "learn how to fish", but whether they're learning or they already know, it doesn't matter if they don't have the opportunity to do it.
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