Last year many days I considered whether or not teaching was the profession for me. I had several classes that challenged me to the core. If you were to read the ISS lists, you would find many of my students listed day after day. These were the ones that I was given to serve and love, faithfully. Day in and day out. This brought me a lot of joy and pain.

This year thus far has been much easier, in part to the classes I'm teaching, and in part to the fact that it's my third year and I feel as though I might actually know what I'm doing.

I've seen already how my faithfulness to my kids last year is paying off. When my kids from last year need help, I am the one they seek out. From D knocking on my door to see if I could help him with school work to A getting kicked out of class and insisting that he would do work if he could sit in my classroom. My heart has widened for these kids and I am their biggest fan. I am so glad to be a resource and a safe place for them. I am realizing that God knew what he was doing when he gave me the kids he gave me last year. I have really found the desire rising in my to develop a program to mentor students like these. I'm excited to see them grow and hope that God will use my encouragement and prayers.

DIY: The Desk

I'd been looking all summer for a desk that I could make my own. I found one a week before school started and I finally finished it. Here it is!

Before:


After:

Today one of my students asked me how my weekend was. I thought for a moment and then laughed as I said, "I got sick, went to a funeral, and lost my cat -- you tell me!"

I can't help but think that my life plot sounds like the plot to a bad movie. I'm not saying all this to bemoan my life. Honestly, I just keep thinking over and over how important it is to tell people how much you love them as much as possible.

One of my favorite literary characters Emily Webb from Our Town says, "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?--every, every minute?"

I just keep thinking about that and how powerless you feel when you've lost something.