Tuesdays with Blogger

I couldn't imagine not having my job.

I wonder too much who I would be if teaching hadn't consumed the pores of my life for the past two and a half years. I think that's how we think about our lives. We attempt to compare it to something that could have been. And from that comparison we make assumptions about this parallel reality.

By cause and effect, if I didn't have this job, there would have been consequences. Say that my interview for CCHS didn't go that well, and I was turned away. I would have continued working at Casey's gas station making donuts and picking up volunteer opportunities at the library to build my resume a little. From there, I'm not sure. Maybe I would have substitute taught at PH middle school until I got my foot in the door.

Maybe.

And maybe at 25 in this parallel, would-be story, the state of my heart would be similar.
Maybe I would have learned to listen carefully to people before butting in with my own ideas. Maybe my teaching methods would still be the same. Maybe I would have had students in similar situations, or I would have worked with administration all the same or developed a similar fondness for my place of work.

I don't know.

What I do know is that the wouldbes and the whatifs matter only so far as your imagination says it's okay to go. We can always dream that contentment is better in another place or another time, but that is not true. I value imagination, and in fact I stress myself more over what-if situations than I do over real ones, and daily I let waves of my brain take me other places altogether, but I am where I am for a reason.

I couldn't have dreamed a better discussion about film manipulation with my Media class today. I couldn't concoct students so complex as these ones, whose stories have intersected since they were in kindergarten. My whatifs and couldhavebeens couldn't hypothesize how addictive it is to know that the mind of a student has been opened by what it is you're discussing.

There are few moments similar to remaining in the heart of discussion that you barely even hear the class bell ring.

Those moments are perfect.

The other day I read about Jonah and how he ran away from God's will, which was to deliver a message to the Ninevites. He ran and people warned him pretty seriously that it was not good to ignore God's call. They tossed him to sea and there he was placed in the belly of the whale to reflect on his duty.

I couldn't help but trace my steps back. I look at purpose and realize that I've been called to it this whole time. I cannot deny being a child of the Covenant. Attending Sunday school as a child, going to GEMS, receiving my first New Testament, doing youth group, missions trips, talking with friends about what it all means, choosing Dordt and New Mexico and SF and now DeMotte, I can't help it. God has been calling me this whole time. I have nominally professed my Christianity, which is great. It's wonderful actually. Please tell your family you love the Lord. But please, don't let these phases roll by unnoticed and unevaluated.

I remember Sunday school so well because I was taught to say "This is the day that the Lord has made" meaning that God made even the sun, and the sun was far bigger than me, and that "I will rejoice and be glad in it" meaning exactly what it says.

I remember GEMS because it was the first time I realize that there were adults other than the ones in my family who cared about my spiritual development. I remember youth group, because before that I didn't know what it was to study the Bible, and before those bus ride discussions with friends I didn't know what it meant to apply the scriptures to life. Before Dordt, I didn't understand doctrine and calling and how invaluable friendship is, and before service trips I didn't know what it was to humble myself even to those lower on the capitalistic scale than what it was to live in a double-wide trailer.

Before counseling in Alaska I hadn't invested in the lives of youth who needed even incompetent me to help them along like the Ninevites needed Jonah. Before New Mexico, I didn't know what it was to be a minority and to understand how privileged I am to be white in America. Before SF, I didn't understand what it was to value family and how important it is to let your family see you grow.

Before D-town, I didn't thoroughly understand consistency in a walk with Christ, as modeled by Cherie and Jim, and I didn't understand what it means not to let your past dictate who you are, and I didn't understand that transformation and forgiveness doesn't happen all at once, and I didn't understand how to function in this weird stage called adulthood (and still don't, to be honest).

I find great joy in working with my students, with those who really want to succeed. I take joy in watching them do well in other areas, and truth be told, that joy wraps itself through the things with which I'm not so savvy. I wasn't the best at management of a classroom two years back but now I can tell it's improving. I no longer desire to turn right and head east and instead I faithfully turn left every morning, which is the way to school.

I am not sure if I've heard God's call clearly but the thing about retrospect is that you get to see your situation a lot better from its viewpoint. Sometimes I think it's a matter of making a decision, sticking with it, and living Christly where we are and not so much about comparing our lives to how things could have been.

I just want to appreciate the 25 I'm in.