Teachers, It Can Still Be Amazing

Photo by Georgette Sandoval

Today in my area public schools are reopening. Kids are headed back into the classroom by the thousands. I’ve had so many conversations with educators and parents about what the next several months will look like. The truth is, no one really knows. Everyone has a big opinion, me included, but no one knows.

The prevailing sentiment in my conversations has been a bit of cautious optimism smothered in generous doses of uncertainty. Some are excited. Some are afraid. Some are clueless. And some are just ready for something normal.

I’m confident of this. It can still be an amazing school year. I would dare say this has the potential to be the most incredible year you’ve yet experienced. Why do I think this?

We’ve all experienced what the world looks like when it calls a collective timeout. You lived through it—although many around the world did not.

We’ve all faced what it feels like to be more or less stuck at home for a few months. It messes with your head.

Both are major issues. And you’ve beat them already. Wouldn’t it be a shame to waste the big opportunity this year presents?

Photo by Georgette Sandoval

I’m not a conventional educator. I don’t sit in a classroom all day everyday like the real teachers who are reading this. I teach for two universities. I am doing it all online this term. For a wide variety of reasons. But I am trying my best with what’s been handed me, to embrace the opportunity the best way I know how.

I have 74 students in my care. I am responsible for part of their eduction. It is a responsibility I take incredibly serious. This semester I decided to do something I have never done before. I gave them all my cell phone number.

It seemed like such a simple thing, but when I stopped to think about it—I could only remember one professor ever giving me their personal phone number. ONE. And until March of this year I had rarely done so either. But that’s all changed now. Why?

Because maybe teaching is about more than facts and quizzes. Perhaps learning is too. Maybe it’s about one human transferring a piece of something they’ve been given stewardship of to someone else who needs it. I’ve spent many semesters focused on the theories of dialogic communication, but maybe not enough focused on an actual dialogue—you know—real communication with these brilliant and beautiful young men and women entrusted to me.

They are still going to get their money’s worth, and then some, when it comes to Comms Theories and practicing the mechanics of good public speaking. But I decided to give them something more valuable this semester. My availability.

Guess what? It’s working. I’m four weeks back into my classroom (thanks Google Classroom) and everyday I get a handful of texts from students. I don’t see them as a distraction. I see them for what they are. Another opportunity to make this the best school year ever.

I have no idea what you teach. If you teach. Or where you teach. But I do know this. You’ve been given stewardship of something amazing. You have been entrusted with knowledge, experience, and the opportunity of a lifetime. You have a chance to make this year about more than standardized tests and all the other crap politicians like to brag about. You have the opportunity to do what only you can do in your classroom—you have the opportunity to make it the best school year ever.

Try it. Shift your mind. See the opportunity. Embrace it. Maybe you can’t high five everyone in the hall, but I bet you can out smile everyone. Maybe the setup is a little different. The masks make it seem weird and impersonal. Call the elephant in the room out for what it is.

You only get a short season of influence with your kids. Don’t lose it to complaining, pessimism, and a victim-mindset. Disagree with administrators and leaders about big decisions? Great. You are 100% entitled to disagree. But don’t let it affect the way you embrace the opportunity to help your kids.

The truth is. You won’t. I know that. If you are in education and you stuck around long enough to read this much of my rambling you’re not one of the ones we should be worried about. You’re a Rockstar teacher. So thanks for reading this far. Before you go I have two promises for you.

First, I think we both know this is likely going to be the hardest year in education you have ever faced.

Second, I just want to promise you that there is incredible value and worth on the other side of this hard thing you’re starting today. It’s going to be worth it. It’s going to be the best school year it can be. It’s sure to be hard. It will also be beautiful—as beautiful as hard can be.

Go get ‘em. Thank you for what you do. I can’t imagine where we’d all be without you.

When You Are Frustrated Do This

It wasn’t a typical Monday morning. Not after twenty weeks at home in lock-down mode. School was here. Time to face the music.

We’d already made the decision to homeschool our oldest two. You might have read about that previously. But what about the little ones? What were we to do with our toddlers?

How would we navigate all four kids at home, fulfill all of our professional educational responsibilities, lead our congregation, and not lose our minds. Depends on who you ask. More than a few would say we lost our minds a long time ago. Which brings us back to this atypical Monday morning. 

All of us know what it’s like to be frustrated. There have been whole weeks (recently) when I hung out in frustration for so long I fully expected it to start charging rent.

I was frustrated this particular Monday. Why? Because we had made the choice to send our youngest two back to preschool. Not the source of my frustration. But I couldn’t actually walk them into their rooms. That was the source of my frustration.

I’m not knocking the staff or the school. We love our little preschool. King kids have been dancing down those halls for going on eight years—and before that Jamie taught there. It’s the best preschool in town.

I was frustrated because it was time to let go of something I was hoping I could hold on to for just a little longer. See it was my daughter’s first day.  She is seventeen months old. She has never spent an entire day away from Mommy with a stranger. And I didn’t get to be the one to take her to the stranger.

Did I mention I was frustrated? I was frustrated at the options in front of me. I was frustrated at handing that little pink sippy cup over before I was good and ready. Circumstances had wrenched reality right out of my hand. You’d be frustrated to.

You probably have been. These last few months have been repeatedly frustrating for so many of us. What’s ticking you off lately? It’s probably not hard to figure out. What’s that thing just under the surface that seems to make you simmer inside? Loss? Confusion? Missed-expectations? Your frustrations might come from something else entirely. I get it. We all have them.

We all know what it’s like to be frustrated. Frustration often happens where expectations hit a wall.

There we were standing in the preschool lobby. They checked our temps. I signed the paperwork. Everyone was masked up. And then it was time to hand over my children.

Matty took it like a champ. He was so excited to be back at school with his little friends. He was good to go with his Paw Patrol backpack and Ninjago lunchbox. 

Anna didn’t know what to make of it. She is seventeen months old. Do you know how many of those months she has spent at home with Mommy? Seventeen.

But it was time. Time to let her go where I couldn’t go. Seventeen months just seemed too young for that kind of milestone moment. Hence the frustration.

I handed her backpack, some diapers, a lunchbox, and sippy cup over to the director of the school. And then it was time to hand over Anna. She was stoic. She obviously didn’t understand what was going on. She didn’t react emotionally. Not like I wanted to. But she didn’t want me to hand her over either. She held on to Dad. She held on to the familiar. Familiar is comfortable.

Our frustrations will often stymie the next step forward. Even when we know one simple step could take us from comfortable to something better. It’s usually just one step. For you, and for the one needing you to make a move. I didn’t know what to do.

And then sweet little Matty stepped in. My rowdy, hyper, rough-and-tumble three year old said, “I take you, Sissy.” As he grabbed her by the hand and bravely walked her through the front door.

The moment wasn’t lost on me. My decisive nature is quick to lean hard toward the solutions I like, and bow up at the ones that irritate me. Sometimes reality yanks the choice away.

When frustration hits big and you don’t know how to handle what’s important you need help. You need a hand. I know I did. But you don’t just need a hand. You need a hand-off.

You might need a friend to meet you halfway and help you carry some stuff. Maybe you need a loved one to just pick up the phone. Or, perhaps you need the innocence of a three year old to take his sister by the hand.

Whatever your frustration, don’t let the circumstances make you overlook the opportunity. Take a hand when you need one. Give a hand as often as possible. Handing off what’s got your goat will help you take your next step forward. Probably the one that will untangle your agitations. Do it.

You might not even know what the hand you need looks like. For me, it’s my faith. The providence of a friend with good timing. Or, the certainty of something more than imagination can muster. Faith is good at steadying me in the midst of frustration.

Handing off frustration to faith doesn’t make me weak to reality. It makes me better at trusting God.

I’m thankful for big faith. And I’m equally thankful for the small hands that remind me. Not everything has to be epic. Sometimes God will simply show up and say, “I’ll take you.” He’ll even do it through a three year old.

Hand off your frustrations. You don’t need them anymore. Emptying your hands of frustrations will free them up for whatever help God sends your direction. I don’t know what it will look like for you. I only know he’ll do it. When he does—just go. Take the hand that’s offered. Let faith in something better lead all of the important stuff in your life. It will take you somewhere you’d never go on your own.

Would you let us know what’s been frustrating you lately? Maybe we can help? And if you think someone in your circle could use some help handing off their own frustrations please consider sharing this with them.

When the Adventure You Want Is not the One You Get

At 6:34 am I rolled over to get out of bed. Not my bed though. A rented bed. We were on vacation.

I usually ignored my phone in the morning. The world doesnʼt deserve tolerating me before at least two cups of coffee. Tuesday was different. Maybe I was just out of my routine. Vacationed.

We picked the cabin we stayed in for many reasons. One of our favorite things about it is a total lack of cellular phone reception. AT&T hasnʼt discovered our little cabin by the creek, deep in the Ozarks. Paradise. But then I checked my phone.

Apparently iMessage can go where even Big Comm isnʼt welcomed as long as there is WiFi. Yes, our mountain escape paradise has WiFi.

Who would text me at five oʼclock in the morning? Mom. “Brian is at the hospital. They are admitting him.” My brother was fighting cancer and things had taken a turn for the worse. I spent the next two hours contacting people asking them to pray.

The kids had woken up. They were excited about the hike Jamie had planned for the first day of our illustrious hillbilly getaway. We were out on the porch picking at our pop tarts when I remembered something inside we needed for our adventure.

I went to get it—only to discover the door was locked. The glass door. The one without a keypad. All the doors with keypads were still dead bolted because we hadnʼt used them yet. *insert facepalm emoji*

What did we do? We loaded up the van with children and adventurous expectations. What could go wrong?

We travelled miles down the kind of road my dad used to take me down as a kid. The kind Burt Reynolds and Elisa Dushku would have been terrified to discover in their hillbilly horror movies. Why? We were looking for the trailhead to an obscure waterfall Jamie had found online. It was the kind of adventure where the only living things you expect hope to see are trees and squirrels.

At 10:30 am we piled out of the van and had a picnic on the ground. As we concluded our meal we readied ourselves to head into the bush. Then I heard something that changed everything. It sounded like a roar.

In rolled a thunderous biker gang like the Hillbilly Sons of Hell.

Just kidding.

The roar was more of a whisper. And the news being whispered was our impending flat tire. Yikes. The air was steadily leaking out. I suddenly regretted taking my really nice floor jack out of the van to make more room for Ethanʼs Pokémon Cards.

Did we even have a jack? Did we have a spare tire? Holy Goodyear, Batman. We did.

We jacked up the car. We replaced the faulty rubber with our pristine donut. Sure we had to convince Matty he couldnʼt take a bite out of it, but we got it on. It looked better suited for a lawnmower than a Dodge Caravan, but what did I know about tires? Covering our tiny wheel in prayer and absurd expectations we drove back at half the speed of smell.

Several careful miles, and what felt like hours, later we were at a tire shop. While awaiting our turn, Uncle Brian called from the hospital. Had our tire not deflated weʼd have missed the call. Jon prayed for him over the phone. It was one of the most tinder serene moments Iʼve ever experienced.

The people at the shop were colorful and friendly. The Salt of the Earth kind of people I am more comfortable around than almost anyone else in this world. The proprietor reminded me so much of my late father-in-law I was instantly at ease. Except for the dog.

There was a beautifully obese brown lab lying six inches from where they had jacked up our van. I was pretty sure it was dead. I wanted to check for a pulse but didnʼt know where to find one on such a fat dog. I looked to see if it was breathing. Nothing. Stuff was leaking out of its head. Nevermind. It was just an abundance of drool mixing with abandoned motor oil. Then the metallic squeal of a torqued lug nut seemed to resurrect the dead dog with a twitch.

Jamie and I rested in the shade of an old oak tree surrounded by older tires and our four playing children. Thunder boomed. For real this time. But the promised storm played out like presidential campaign promises and fizzled fast.

Soon the mechanic walked over to announce our car was finished, “I donʼt know where yʼall went, but I wouldnʼt go back ifʼn I were you.”

“Wouldnʼt go back...” I started, which he took as a question.

“Yeah, man. Ya had eight staples in one tire and a nailʼn tha other one. But we patched ‘em both up for ya. Thatʼll be ten bucks.”

As in ten dollars? I couldnʼt believe it. I handed him a twenty and we drove away. That feeling Iʼd had since 11 am, the one promising impending nervous vomiting, finally went away.

What did we do to celebrate? Ice cream of course.

We found a local ice cream shack. Walked to a nearby park. And stuffed ourselves until frozen dairy comas felt imminent.

We drove back to our cabin. The realtor helped us get back inside. And, after hot dogs, and a giant glass of Gatorade we played in the creek until sunset. And we did it all together.

Bumps in the road arenʼt a lot of fun. Flat tires, disappointments, and certainly cancer are enough to ruin anyoneʼs day. Iʼve let a lot less ruin my share of the calendar.

Missed expectations, like missed turns, take us where we didnʼt plan to go. Sometimes going forward feels like a slow drive on a tiny misfit tire. Often it feels like nervous hurl trying to climb the back of your throat. Itʼs a sure sign something went sideways. Youʼll know youʼre there when life starts to feel upside down.

When I get upside down over something itʼs almost always because I tried tackling it solo. Solo is rarely the best adventure. Together is always a better adventure.

Whatever surprising adventure smacks your agenda embrace it with both arms. And then invite all the arms at your address to lean in and get some of the action. Life is gonna toss you a lemon more often than youʼd like. When it happens, donʼt just make lemonade. Make enough for two. Adventures are sweeter that way.

Countdown Zacapa - 6 Days

Less than a week to go until Jamie and I will be Guatemala bound—18 young adults in tow! We are so seriously excited! It is always such a privilege to travel to another country and help a long term missionary. This year we have the opportunity to partner with Greg Miller Ministries. I had a chance to meet Greg last fall and he is an awesome guy with a huge heart for the nation God has called him to.

This morning I recieved word that Guatemala experienced an earthquake today. A lot of thoughts immediately went through my head, first among those the well-being of Greg, his loved-ones, and a close family friend who's family lives in the mountains of Guatemala.

The good news is that everyone we are connected to there is ok. The bad news, however is that not everyone is ok.

All of this only serves to point out a very real truth when you're taking about investing in short-term missions. Things can change on a dime. You have to be ready to be flexible and fluid. Plans can change.

Ultimately, the goal remains the same. We're headed to Guatemala in just a few days to serve the Church by serving Greg and his team. If the finer details change along the way, that will be ok. We will still go. We will still serve. Thankful for the privilege this opportunity brings.

October 17 - Compelled

Matthew 27: 32-34 & Luke 23:26

As they went out, they found a man of Cyrene, Simon by name. They compelled this man to carry his cross. (Matthew 27:32 ESV)

And as they led him away, they seized one Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and laid on him the cross, to carry it behind Jesus. (Luke 23:26 ESV)

When Simon of Cyrene left home with his family I doubt he imagined that he would play a key role in an event that would forever change the destiny of mankind. He was compelled, the text says, to carry the cross. He was forced by armed men already on their way toward savage murder. He had no choice. It was not voluntary compulsion.

I wonder if Simon knew what was happening. I wonder if he had heard of Jesus, or would come to an understanding later. I wonder if Simon and Jesus sit and talk about that day every once in a while.

Sometimes we are compelled. Voluntary or not, take heed of that which you find yourself compelled to do. It could be that you too are caught up in a story bigger than any you ever imagined.