Lazarus Heart

I thought of how every day each of us experiences a few little moments that have just a bit more resonance than other moments – we hear a word that sticks in our mind – or maybe we have a small experience that pulls us out of ourselves, if only briefly…we would realize that we have been having another life altogether; one we didn't even know was going on inside us.  –Douglas Coupland

We often say, one day at a time but I say, one moment at a time.  A day, all 24 hours is packed with so many planned and unplanned events.  So, I suggest you have the overview of the day, but take it in small steps, one moment at a time.  –Eveth Colley

Last week:  It’s Wednesday.  I’m leaving work right around 6, and the sun is peeking out after what seems like a year of hiding.  I am grateful.  It’s been a long week full of emotional triggers that have been hard to check at the door, and the week is only half over.  The sun, warm on my face and stinging my eyes through the windshield is like a tangible ray of hope, Shirley Temple style.

Unlike most days of the week, I have a passenger.  A small fourth grader occupies my backseat, his green and black coat tossed haphazardly across the seat, his backpack tucked between his feet.  I give this nervous boy a lift home once or twice a week – his mom doesn't have a car.  Despite the small inconvenience of the trip, on days like today when I have too much on my mind, I welcome the distraction.  I’m learning to find hope in my students too.

This particular boy always wants us to be first out of the parking lot, but I've never asked him why.  Rarely do I pull out of my parking spot before my boss, and he exhales an audible sigh of disappointment in the back.  “Man, she’s going to beat us.”  This day is no different; we are second.

He comments all the way down the road on how far ahead her white hatchback seems – will we ever catch up?  He wants me to drive faster.  His excitement is palpable as we pull up to the stop light and wait to turn – we are directly behind her.  I honk and she joins in the fun, playing a modified peek a boo game in her rear view mirror.  As the light turns green, I say out loud, “I’m not sure we’re going to make this light.”  The green doesn't last long and we are barely positioned within the turn lane.  I hear my student plead, “Please stay green, come on, come on, stay green.”

It’s not until later, as I reflect on my week and all it has held, that I wonder – why was he so intent for the light to stay green?  Who was he pleading to?  I remember being a kid and doing the very same, the promise of a game continued was exciting.  I wasn't concerned with how long the game would last; I only wanted to keep it going.  As we sailed through the still green light and his cheers of success leaked out the car’s cracked windows, I was struck by the simplicity of his request and the joyous result when it was granted.

The more I chew on this experience, the more I see God in it.  As I fought my way though each day last week, feeling the strain of life, I felt as if I were trudging through knee deep mud.  But I was reminded in this interaction that God desires to give us good gifts.  He hears every whispered request, no matter how big or how small, and he is overjoyed that we would come to Him and ask.  But we need to ask.  What a privilege to see a request so immediately answered, a game continued, a memory made.  I have no way of knowing how such a small interaction may have changed this small boy’s view of the world, or his relationship with us as leaders, but I am grateful for having been a part of it.

I've always been told that working with students isn’t just about you teaching them – it’s about them teaching you.  I was reminded not to be afraid to ask for what I need, no matter how big or how small.  It doesn't matter how urgently I ask, or how loudly, what matters is that I ask and then watch, in hope and expectation, for the answer.

The Downside to Dum-Dums

I was sitting in a Starbucks this morning, waiting for a coffee companion who would ultimately never show.  I had arrived to our meeting early, intending to prepare and organize a few notes, but instead I started writing.  Here's what happened:

Friday I had an interesting interaction with two of my students.  The first was a fifth grade girl.  She had opened the fridge where our students keep their water bottles. provided by the program, and where I keep the students' drinks and dinners for the week.  You may also find the occasionally abandoned soft drink, not to mention at least 2 bottles each of chocolate and strawberry syrup used to flavor the white milk almost none of my students want to drink.  A little flavor goes a long way.

Anyway, she's opened the fridge to get her water bottle, which is numbered to discourage students from sharing more than just water.  Standing with the fridge open, she realizes her bottle is empty and says that she'll just drink from her older brother's bottle.  She's going to wait for us "to fill up her bottle" for her.

Excuse me?

I looked at her and stated simply that LA and I are not responsible for filling up the bottles.  The only time we even worry with them is when we wash them [or pick them up from the table, floor, desk, playground, etc where they are carelessly left].  Despite her family's presence in our program for a number of years, this student seemed surprised that it was her responsibility to refill her water.  [And as far as I know, she still didn't fill it!]

The second occurred while on our field trip last week.  The students visited a local credit union to deposit the money they earn for grades each nine weeks.  I sent two boys in to use the restroom and followed them in to see how many students were still in line.  Clearly, the boys weren't aware I had followed them inside.  Both boys, despite have to go "so badly" stopped at the desk just inside the door and asked for a dum-dum sucker.  Normally I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but both students had already deposited their money and, upon doing so successfully, had received a plastic cup and 2 suckers.

I am not ok with my students expecting to receive things when we go on field trips.  [On the flip side, I am grateful for the generous hearts of people within our community].  Part of me wonders about myself in this situation.  I'll admit, I chastised the boys once they got outside.  They had already received, were already given where gifts were not expected, and then returned to ask for more.  I think, why point out and correct over something as small as a dum-dum when my students already have so little?

But I also wonder, where does this sense of entitlement come from?  What does this say about how we are meeting the needs of these students and their families?  I strive to empower my students, not come at their every call.  I want my students to work hard, advocate for themselves, and earn what they get.

My students thrive on questions.  Anytime something new is in the office, there are endless questions.  Are those for us?  Can I have it now?  When?  What's it for?  Where did you get it?  When can I have it?  Who's it for?  Why is it here?  Is it going to stay here?  Did you eat cake without me?  [This last one is a particular favorite, and it was asked only one day.  Another group had had a parent meeting and served cake, the remainder of which was in the trash.  More than one student came by, looked in the trash, and wanted to know who had cake and if they would get any.  All before they even said hello].

I do want them to feel comfortable asking for things, particularly help.  I want to give them the tools they need to succeed.

I do not want them to be given everything, to expect gifts each time we go into the community.  Nor do I want to deny them little joys, or rush them into growing up.  They are entitled to a childhood.  Where's the balance here?  Am I wrong?

Amidst tears and word cards

I'll admit, most of my students are enigmas to me.  Having only been on the job for a few months, and noting that this is a very different population than I'm used to working with, I spend a good bit of time learning to communicate with my students and then processing what I've learned.

Today was no different.  There is one student who has sporadic attendance in our program, and would rather choose to constantly run around, do cartwheels and turn circles rather than do homework.  My boss had a meeting with his teacher and mom today [I would have been there too if I hadn't gotten up late...oops] and I gained a little more insight into his life.

There is a slew of challenges going on in this child's life both at school and at home, and getting the background made the daily grind a little easier.  After getting the run down on the meeting, I spent the better part of my day making word cards.  He is surprisingly good in math but struggles in reading and spelling.  LA [my boss] and I hoped that by making letters cards and word matching, he would be more apt to study.  We hoped that giving him something to move, something to put his hands on, would entice him a bit.

Today was not his best day, and about an hour into program he was frustrated and crying [and it wasn't even related to homework!].  After a little coercion, he finally worked with me on the word cards.  There is a lot of work to be done, and I do not have a hard time envisioning more frustration and tears, but he seemed to enjoy the work.

I'll admit - working at my computer all day and putting together these activities for him was tedious.  By the end of it my shoulders hurt, my legs were restless, and it felt like I had wasted a day doing nothing but cutting paper.  For the last few weeks I've been working on individualized activities for my students to do once they finish their homework.  With more than 25 students in 9 different schools, I've been spending a lot of time in front of a computer.  The work seems to be never ending and I didn't realize how tiring it can be.

But watching him work today was the reward.  I wasn't sure he would be on board with the activities but he seemed to enjoy them [as much as he could in his current emotional state].

There are so many things going on in the lives of my students, and sometimes I forget they are just kids.  I'm still learning a ton every day, but I'm lucky enough to have students and a boss who give me grace each day as I fumble my way.  I know there are more long days ahead, more mistakes, more tears and frustration [from my students or me?].  But I know it all works for good, and I hope I get some insight one day into the long term effect.