Germs.

I am half way through the first week back at school. This quarter is going to be extremely busy! Running from class to work to class to work all morning long. I am blessed with an amazing boss that helps to keep me nourished and healthy along the way--which is quite the task! From the day I returned at the preschool, about a month ago, I have been surrounded by beautiful little faces, covered in snot, and coughing from time to time. It is the first month of school cold and I think it is finally starting to catch up to me. My boss has given me a packet of Emergen-C to drink. She also told me to leave early and get some lunch when I didn't have time to pack a lunch for work. I am blessed.

In spite of their germs, I still can't seem to stay away from the students. Now that I have started classes again I am unable to be with them all day, every day. I miss them! I am glad I still get to spend time with them though.

I am also teaching/tutoring a 5th grader in math. I have always hated and struggled with math. I wasn't sure I could do it when my host teacher asked me but I said yes regardless. Ready for the surprise...? I love it! Sometimes it can be very exhausting trying to explain something but I still manage to have fun and because of my struggles with math at such crucial beginning stages of my education I am passionate about making sure my student truly understands what I am teaching her so that she can be better prepared for when the math becomes even more complicated and advanced.

Every day I spend with the my students, even the hard ones, only makes me feel more certain about my decision to become a teacher. How could I not be sure though when I am working with such great kids?

Approval.

Everyday I work at the preschool holds some sort of epiphany or treasured moment. Today I was baffled by a particular little girl who insisted on playing with two other little girls that weren't treating her well. At this young and innocent age I see the very nature of "Mean Girls" being played out. The more the other girls treated her poorly, the more she sought out their acceptance and interaction. As an adult and teacher watching this take place I can clearly see that her best interest would be to seek a friendship with a child outside of this clique. For some odd reason, all she can see are these two girls who don't treat her the way any little girl should be treated and although she is hurt by their treatment, she mirrors the exact exclusive demeanor these girls show her with other children at the preschool. I know they are young and are just learning how to socialize, form relationships, and develop their own self confidence but I can't ignore the fact that so often we (adults) do the same thing.

How often have I found myself seeking the approval of those around me that reject or treat me poorly while under appreciating those who are such a huge blessing in my life and love me without conditions? 

This weekend I had the opportunity to spend time with some of those wonderful type of friends (blessings). We had a great time walking the streets of Walla Walla & exploring the Whitman campus. 

We just couldn't resist jumping into the Whitman fountain!

Such a wonderful group of ladies. 

What it Means Not to Choose a Job.

I just finished my second week of student teaching. This week I added on my hours at the preschool and it made the days only more exciting. Let me just introduce you to a few of the differences between the two classrooms I work in. In one classroom I am struggling to teach my children to stay in the lines when coloring a box while in my other classroom we are learning about the term algorithm and how it can make mathematics easier. I love it! Both age groups have their own challenges and delights. There are few things more enjoyable for me then sitting down with one of my preschoolers and reading them their favorite books but then there is the depth of learning in the 5th and 6th grade classroom that is experienced as we dive into different parts of the world and discuss why science exists. Never the less, both my classrooms require energy and patience.

Teaching isn't my job. Please don't misunderstand me, I am beginning my senior year in the education program of my university. I eagerly await the day when I march across the platform and receive my diploma and certification allowing me to officially become a teacher. I will without a doubt spend my life working endless hours, as most teachers do, and planning lessons but teaching is not my job it needs to be my passion, my ministry, and my service. The minute my career becomes a job is when I start losing focus.

I know there will be challenges this year and unfortunately I'll make mistakes but I know God will be able to work through me in spite of my shortcomings. As a teacher I think it will be just as important (if not more important) to spend time on my knees praying as well as time grading papers and writing lessons. I need God to fill my heart with love, patience, and understanding. He will give me wisdom when things seem out of my grasp. I am so glad I don't have to do this alone.

Here are just a few thoughts and goals I will have as a teacher--

"It is not our job to toughen children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It is our job to raise children that will make this world a little less cruel and heartless" -L.R. Knost

"Since it is so likely that our children will meet cruel enemies let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage." -CS Lewis

"Every child deserves a teacher that believes in them, be that one."

Einstein said,"It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge".

Amen.

One of my awesome kiddos & I having fun.

A Cotton Puzzle Piece.

I wrote this for my creative writing class & it was a very special piece. I thought I'd share it. 

My mother and her family entered the United States when she was 9 years old. Growing up, I loved to hear her talk about Cuba—the things my grandmother did to provide for her four children after grandfather leaving Cuba before the rest of the family, in order to earn money to bring them over too.

But without my birth certificate I would question whether or not I really belonged to them. As the puzzle of my family united during holidays and long weekends, I struggled to find where my piece fit. I wasn’t like my cousins. I was shaped differently. Although I resembled my mom’s coloring, I didn’t acquire her physique. As far as I could tell, I hadn't acquired anyone’s. I am quite a bit shorter. I had dangly chicken legs and you could see my ribs when I lay down. I was not malnourished; I ate my full plate of rice and beans like the rest of them. It didn’t seem right. I would lay in bed some nights wondering if there was a secret aunt nobody knew about, one that I turned out like. I couldn't understand why they would hide her and wondered if eventually they would start hiding me too. When two new cousins were born into the family, I finally thought I would have someone smaller then myself, I thought maybe they’d turn out looking like me. It didn’t take them long to surpass me and once again, I was the smallest cousin.

My freshman year of college my mother and I went to visit my grandmother, Mima, for her birthday in Greenville, South Carolina. My aunt and cousin met us there. We spent the weekend together, just the girls. Saturday night, we ordered New York style pizza, my grandmother’s favorite. Sunday morning, after my aunt and cousin left early, mother was cleaning, as she often does when visiting Mima, and I was upstairs in my grandmother’s bedroom. My grandmother loves holding on to all the things everyone else throws away; old dresses, cards, pictures, and notes. This particular Sunday she pulled out two old dresses from a box in her closet. She stretched them out on the bed in front of me as if she had set the Mona Lisa before me. I could tell she found these dresses to be beautiful. Then she began to tell me why. They were her mother’s. I had never had the chance of meeting her mother. She passed away at 50, long ago in Cuba. I had heard about her beautiful green eyes and dark hair. She was an illusion to me, an old story.

I traced my fingers along the edge of the olive green cotton, noticing the faded areas. It was fragile and resembled a rag but my grandmother had held on to it for years, as if the thread woven into it were gold. That was how she felt about Cuba, when she talked about her life there her eyes would glisten. Whenever she talked about her mother, she wouldn't hold one shred of emotion back. Although my grandfather urged her to leave Cuba, Mima refused to leave her mother’s side. It wasn't until after her mother had passed away that she finally made the decision to come.  Listening to my grandmother’s stories gives the impression that she was never the child, but always took care of those around her. As time goes on and her eye sight fades, she has a harder time brushing all the crumbs off her shirt but her mind is as sharp as ever, and to me, she is beautiful. She is like her mother’s dress; worn, fragile, but gold.

The dress looked like it could belong to me and I wanted to feel if it were true. I delicately unfastened the green plastic buttons, noticing the fabric’s tiny yellow flowers surrounded with ivy. I carefully slipped the dress over my head, felt it slide down against my body, and suddenly my piece of the puzzle made sense. The dresses in Cuba were tailored for one body; they weren't purchased in a store. Each measurement was designed uniquely. This dress was measured and brought together to fit my great-grandmother, the cuffs of the sleeves, the collar, and the waist. I looked at my grandmother and she recognized it. I could tell and I was proud. The dress was made for me too. My great grandmother was no longer an illusion, a story, she had become real. She was the missing link, the tie I had longed for in my family. It fit, I fit.

Family.

There are few things that can compare with family. I love mine so much & it is very difficult being far away from them for most of the year but it does make the moments we are together so much sweeter. We were able to get away and visit one of my favorite places--Charleston,SC. Although it was raining for most of our time there, we still had so much fun!

Walking along King Street.

My mother & I are very close, I am so thankful for her!

Isle of Palms,SC

My incredible parents.

Reunited.

I finally had the opportunity to spend the day with one of my best friends in the North Carolina mountains, my beautiful home. It was such an invigorating hike and the views were phenomenal.

My sweet friend, Leah.

In awe at the beauty. 

Art Loeb Trail along the Blue RidgeParkway.

Blessed.

The Oregon Coast.

My girlfriends and I went on an adventure to the Oregon coast so we could spend some time camping and soaking in the gorgeous views of the Pacific ocean. It was a remarkable trip! I couldn't have had more fun.

The first beach we visited.  

My first time on the Oregon coast! We were so happy!

Our next stop was Canon Beach, OR.

Exploring the tide pools.

It was so windy!

A beautiful lighthouse on Washington's coastline.

Here is to an amazing trip with two incredible girls. We were blessed with a wonderful time. I fell in love with the beauty found on the coast line of Washington & Oregon.