Temperature is Relative

Overhead in the hallway today, on our second rather chilly day in Germany (low 60's).

Student from Afghanistan: It's so cold!
Student from Brazil: I know, right!!!
Student from South Carolina: For sure! Why aren't the radiators on yet?!
Student from Russia: What are you guys talking about? It's fine.

First Days

First days of school aren't my favorite. Don't get me wrong. I love the reunions with smiling former students, I enjoy the tingle of excitement in the air, and I almost always cry during the Seniors' parade of flags during Opening Ceremonies. (Yes, this year, too.) But first days also signal the final shift, the solidifying that last year really is now last year. Those 8th graders are out of my classroom forever. Friends who left in June for good truly are not here anymore. And I have to start over training in a whole bunch of 6th graders to my classroom procedures and expectations. First days are grand, they're necessary and right, but they're not my favorite.

My favorite school days come four weeks in. When I've mastered all the new students' names and feel comfortable to shoot hoops with them in the fresh fall air. When the bus schedule is finally worked out to accommodate all kind of special circumstances and no more students get left behind at wrong bus stops. When talking of classroom procedures has finally fully given way to talking about history and our place in it. When I experience freedom to stop performing and to truly start relating. That's when it starts to get good. :-)

with the new M.S. Principal

When I blew it on Day 1

Last Monday was the first day that all the staff was together on our Middle School campus. It was full of excitement, anticipation, and freshness. It was also chaotic as we weathered change after change that we couldn’t control. Chaos grew into frustration, and before I knew it, I blew it.

The details aren’t important, but by the grace of God, a person in my life had the courage and love to confront me. Of course, initially I was humbled and embarrassed, then guilt-ridden and self-condemning. But with processing, here’s what I learned:

1. Harsh words from friends are more valuable than kisses from enemies.

2. Attitude is a vital part of leadership.

3. His mercies are new every morning.

Thank God for #3 most of all!

It’s funny how it’s not the big trial of the year, the weighty decision that might affect a student’s future or the confrontation from a parent that got me down so quickly. In the grade scheme of things, it was a minute thing. I guess it’s good to learn lessons at the beginning. May it lead to less of me and more of him.

Historical Proof

Recently some friends and I visited a historical site. I was giddy the entire drive there and virtually bolted from the car toward the entrance to purchase my ticket. It’s important that I’m first because it doesn’t stay that way for long. Within minutes of entering the Roman amphitheater, I was already drifting behind, pausing to try out the stone seats, sit in the leftovers of a swimming pool, trace the remnants of a mosaic floor, and stroke each column as if it were a soft, fluffy pet. (Actually, I probably prefer ancient columns to soft, fluffy pets.) As we clambered back into the car, my friend asked me what it was about historical “stuff” that got me so excited.

That was an excellent question. I think it’s about learning, perhaps some about imagination and understanding. Mostly, however, it’s about connecting. It’s no secret I’m a history nerd extraordinaire and wish with all my might Bill and Ted’s time-traveling phone booth were real, for then I would be able to see my heroes. We’d hear each other talk, breathe the same air, and experience the same things. I’d be able to hook my arm in theirs and walk down the boulevard and truly understand their lives because I would have lived them. In some ways, I still hold on to that hope for my future (not the time machine bit, just the being with my heroes).

I rediscovered a short impressionist piece I wrote a couple of years ago after returning from the Middle East. It’s rough (as is everything I write), but maybe it will make my feelings a bit clearer:

Time and Space

The slab of marble winks up at me: Tomb of St. John. My friend next to me snickers, registering her disbelief, and to acquiesce, I nod my head. My historian brain understands this CAN’T be John’s tomb. But I feel so close; I’m grasping for a connection that is just outside of my reach. I’ve crossed the obstacle of space; why should the barrier of time still keep me from touching him?

I want to rip open the tomb and find John’s remains, perhaps clutching a pen and the original manuscript of Revelation as proof. What I wouldn’t give to find that love note from Jacob to Rachel that she preserved so well in a jar buried in the ground, perhaps directly under the well in Shechem. I want to unearth the tablets from a 2,000-year old Roman census in Bethlehem and find the names of Joseph and Mary listed under the House of David. And who wouldn’t want to see the rock I discover on a forlorn hill near Nazareth with the rudimentary carvings of two childhood friends: Eli and Yeshua, a little cross drawn across the top of the h just so we can know it’s the right guy.

It’s more than just having evidence for Biblical events. I want to touch it, to hold it in my own hands and be, even if just for a minute, linked to someone from the past through that inanimate object. The thrill I get just by being in the same place, staring at the same scenery, is so deeply moving that an outsider might mistake me for a star-struck, saint-loving, relic-collecting Bible character stalker. But time has continued its relentless march, and the Lord saw fit to place me in the 21^st century. So, I praise Him for the layers of dirt that separate me from too many ruins, which would draw my gaze downward instead of forcing it up.

One day, I will be able to grasp John – the living John – and firmly shake his pen-stained hand; when Jacob and Rachel kiss me on the cheek; when the House of David, from the man himself down to Joseph and Mary, greet me and welcome me home; when Jesus grasps my face between his hands and I see my name carved on the palm of his hands; when all the stars, saints, and relics in the world unite around the throne of God to praise him for the story he has written: then I’ll touch my proof.

It's only been 4 years ...

... and yet technology is baffling me. It's not even the great, big technology items - I've stayed on top of laptops, iPads, and various Internet sites - it's the little things. I stood in the kitchen struggling to pull up the straw part of Livvi's brand new sippy cup, and it just wouldn't budge. I pulled and strained and twisted, and thought It's a kid's cup, for goodness sake! That's when my niece from the other side of the table says, "Push da button."

Maybe that was a stupid example, but it's all too common. I couldn't find the actual key part on the key to my parents' new car. You can't drive without that. My steering wheel is full of buttons to control the XM radio station, phone calls, and other options. Just like remotes! They have been my absolute least favorite item, and I have yet to conquer a single one. In church yesterday, instead of filling out the Attendance Card as I had done for 10 years, the text number appeared on the screen, and the entire congregation whipped out their smart phones to send in attendance. Oh yeah, and one brother uses his smartphone as a TV remote. Double whammy for me!

I am out of the loop, for sure! Bad or good, I just wasn't expecting this after only 4 years! :-)

Night to Shine

Scrubbed clean and shimmering, the 8th grade class of 2013 was all smiles in the spotlight, and I sat back with a sigh to take it all in. This was the evening they had only been anticipating for three years, or so they said. Dinner had been enjoyed by all, even the deliciously secretive baby photos their parents had sent us weeks in advance had made their mark, and now we were all gathered in the auditorium to pay tribute: a lauding of character traits we admired, praise for three years of accomplishment and growth, expressed expectations for the great things still to come.

As each 8th grader climbed the daunting steps and listened to the tribute and while the audience ahhhed, laughed, and applauded at the appropriate moments, I inwardly said good-bye to each one. So many memories: the time MC yelled "flamingos" for no reason in the middle of class, the time MT threw her arms around me in a surprise hug, the embarrassing moment when I called JG another student's wife by accident. I'll forever savor the two minutes I got to hold JK's hand while he sobbed over a deep hurt. I will cherish the dinner conversation with AM and CC when they shared about their God-given joys in life. I recall the cookies that IW, DD, and MF dropped in my mailbox just the other week. And I know it's time to let go. I don't want to, but it's time. They have slipped my grasp of Middle School (most tower over me by now), and they are more than ready to tackle the challenge of High School. So we celebrate with them this night. We recognize their individuality and with heavy hearts, saturated with pride and heart-break, release them to shine.

Treasured Gifts

Last night was our final Small Group of this school year, and nostalgia rolled over me much like the thunder storm did on top of Hochblauen (our local mountain). While munching on cucumbers and crackers on our make-shift picnic blanket, we bade farewell to the girls' sophomore year by looking back at the gifts we have received. Some were physical, given to each other throughout the year, while others were relational, in the welcoming of two new girls into our group this Spring. They have blessed us already in so many ways. I know I will treasure the marble heart in colors of beige and purple, and I love the games AA has taught us since her arrival.

Of course, my favorite gifts are the ones that gathered in my living room every Wednesday to share tea, cookies, and lives. The girls dug deep this year, and I loved intermixing our fun, goofy times (mainly during sleep-overs) with some serious, vulnerable sharing of the heart. We examined stories this year: the ones we find in the Bible and the ones God is writing into our lives at this very moment. I'll miss them dearly over the summer but look forward to another year of learning more about each other and about our Savior at the same time. Here's to you, MT, EE, PM, KH, AA, HH, CB, and HR!