Welcome to the 2017-2018 school year

Every August, the hustle and bustle of school supply lists, bulletin boards, and new backpacks remind me that a new year is beginning.  A new year of learning, assisting students towards knowledge, and guiding kids towards becoming their own person, capable of surviving and thriving in a world after graduation.  As I enter my eighth year, I am humbled at the task set before me yet again. 

Every day, I have the opportunity to move children towards greatness or not. I can move them towards independence or not. I can move them towards managing emotions and fears or not. I can teach them they are worthy of  the world or not. I can assure them they have a place in this country, despite their culture and language, or not.  I have immense power and every interaction, email, smile, and my attitude can give children the world and inspire teachers who have the hardest job in the world.

To the parents sending their kindergarten and pre-k babies to school for the first time, I pray that I am the person you know who will take care of your baby.  Whether I am welcoming them, changing their clothes after an accident, or calming them down when they’re upset, I pray that you see that your child is ready, safe, and welcome.  I know you are sending me your very best.

To the first year teacher, I pray you know that you are supported.  I want to show you that you picked the best profession, and your opportunities are endless. I pray you see that we’ve all been there, you’re strong, and a respectful classroom community will take you farther than any lesson plan.  I pray you know it’s admirable to ask for help, and I’m rooting for you.

To administration, I pray that you know that I’m watching from afar and amazed at the work you do. I know you work late and long hours dealing with the worst situations that keep you up at night. I pray you know that I support you, and I appreciate the big things and little things you do that don’t get seen.  Your job is difficult, and you get a lot of the groaning.  Thanks for keeping your head up.

To the tired teacher who is entering another year, I pray you know that I’m watching and learning from you.  I want to know what’s worked and what hasn’t. I still want to see that spark in your eye when the kids walk in.  I want to know if this is a field that I should dig my heels into as I watch your happiness, fulfillment, and desire to grow. I pray you know that we are collaborators and moving towards the same goal for kids.

To the kids.  This. Is. All. For. You.

To the kids who don’t have the words to say what they want and need, I pray that we find a way to communicate and understand your desires, preferences, and connect in new ways.  I pray that you see us celebrate small victories and still hold high expectations for what you can do and who you’ll become. I pray that we never assume you aren’t capable of something and that we always show you that you are more than we, your parents, or you can imagine.  May we give you ways to become independent and always be kind, patient, and encouraging. 

To the kids who struggle to read, I pray you know that we have a plan.  You have teachers that will give you the skills and tools to attack words so that you can become a fluent reader. It’ll be hard, and you will have days where you are immensely frustrated. I pray you know that you are supported, smart, and on your way.  May you never feel “less than,” and I pray that you know the whole team is rooting for your success.  No one is giving up until you reach your goals.  Your life depends on it.

To the kids who “always get in trouble,” I pray that I am a safe place where you are valued just for being “you.” I pray that you learn to ask for what you need, identify your feelings, and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you aren’t a “bad kid.”  I pray you know you are protected when you’re in distress. When you feel like fight, flight, or freeze, I pray that the right person is there, at the right time, and does the right thing.  I pray that you will be shown love, acceptance, and warmth when you may not get it anywhere else.

To the kids with homes worse than I can imagine, I pray school becomes your calm harbor.  I pray you are shown kindness and acceptance all day long. I want you to know that you are capable and worthy of excelling, and we’ll hold you to those standards.  You won’t go without food, clothes, and love as long as you’re in our school.  You are braver and stronger than I’ll ever be, and I’m here wanting to care for your needs in any way.  You don’t deserve this, and we will take care of you.   

To the 850 kids that walk through those doors Monday, I pray you are met with a smile and a hug. I know you’re anxious, afraid, excited, nervous, and relieved that school has begun. 

Whoever you are.  Wherever you’ve come from.  Whatever language you speak. 

You got this.  And I’m here. 

Welcome to the 2017-2018 school year.

Dear 20-year-old Liz

Dear 20-year-old Liz,

            I know you’re probably busy dressing up for thrift-store prom night at the skating rink, but if you could put your hairspray and tease comb down for a minute, I have something to say.  All you can see in front of yourself is the present, so this may be difficult, but I wrote some findings you’ll discover over the next ten years.  Listen carefully, it’ll be a wild ride.

1.     Dinner doesn’t make itself.  Enjoy the free, hot, and always ready cafeteria food while you can.  Turns out, when you grow up, no one makes dinner for you.  You’ll spend many nights after work searching for something to make and end up with peanut butter and jelly, cereal, or eggs.  You’ll never be a great cook, but you’ll slowly add meals to your repertoire.  But, it’s not going to be easy and you’ll throw away burned chicken more times than you’ll eat it.  Just prepare yourself. And your stomach. 

2.     These anxious thoughts you have can and will cripple you.  There’s medicine that can help that.  You’ll have mixed feelings about taking medicine for your anxiety, but you realize it’s worth it.  You are relieved that it turns the volume down of the terrifying thoughts that your mind fixates on.  You won’t talk about it much, but you know your mind isn’t like everyone else’s.  But you also come to terms with that, and it turns out to be okay.

3.     That toxic, traumatizing, and degrading relationship you had for three years will continue to affect you.  You’ll invest in counseling and EMDR to work through the pain.  You will have dreams weekly for the next ten years about that time in your life.  You’ll do anything to be released from these memories. They will leave, come back, and leave again.  The good news is that you’ll have the most patient and empathetic husband that is committed to working through it with you.  He’ll remind you that that doesn’t define you.  You might wish that you could come to terms with this and see it as a growing experience and be done with it.  But, by age thirty, you still regret this relationship and the affect it has had on you.  Maybe one day, you’ll respect it and see that it was a piece of your story.  Right now, at age 20, you’re in the middle of it.  There’s not much to be said, except for wait.  It’s about to all fall apart.

4.     You think you can change the world.  Right now, you think you will live among the poor and are disgusted with the idea of a husband, a house, and 2.5 kids.  You think you’ll live overseas and become fluent in Spanish.  You won’t.  You’ll get pregnant three weeks after saying “I do,” and you’ll cry for eight of those nine months as you see your dreams flash before your eyes.  You’ll see this as a failure; a failure to what you’ve wanted to do for the Kingdom.  You’ll struggle with feeling like you’re losing your passion and you’ve “sold out” to the American way.  This will eat at your core for years, and you’ll only be able to put words to it maybe three times within the next ten years.  Somewhere along the way, you get placed at a school and a role where you get to communicate and advocate for the poor, the refugee, the beaten, the lost, the uneducated, and you realize that you have a unique opportunity to show genuine love and provide resources for those in your community.  You get to stand up for kids and families as your job.  You see faces and names, not just an idea.  Maybe, you haven’t failed.  You’ll learn that love and serving others looks different in your life than you thought it would.  It won’t make sense to other people, but you’ll do it anyways.

5.     You’re a people pleaser.  During the next ten years, you’ll work through being a recovering people pleaser.  You’ll go through counseling and realize that you don’t have to say, “yes” to everything. You have to say “no” to some things so you can say, “yes” to other things. You’ll spend the next decade learning that not everyone likes you.  You’ll work with people that don’t like you and say mean and hurtful things that cut you to the core.  They’re talk about you behind your back, and you’ll begin to question your purpose there.  When you are twenty, you will be devastated and over compensate when this happens.  You’ll think everyone has to like you.  But as you grow, you’ll learn to be self-aware and kind regardless.  You’ll change what you can, without changing who you are.  And if some people don’t like that, you’ll accept that.

6.     High waist pants will change your life.  At first, you’ll be resistive, because, let’s face it, you’ll never pair it with a crop top.  But once you slip into a pair, you’ll realize you lose five pounds instantly.  That pooch you have from those boys will never ever ever go away.  But you can shove in that little guy with those high-waited suckers.  Embrace it.  It’s like a little magic show every morning.  But you’re right, you’ll never wear a crop top.

7.     Not everything is black and white.   You grew up thinking you knew the Bible and you had the authority to speak it into everyone else’s life based on the Sunday School lesson you heard last week where you also got a star sticker for attendance. Turns out, as you get older, you realize that the absolutes are simple: love and grace and humility.  Maybe the details aren’t as important.  You’ll see the hate shown by “Christians” to homosexuals, illegal immigrants, women who have abortions, the homeless, women, those with other skin colors, and your heart with break.  Your strategy is to join the conversations with those people and show love. Show grace. And show humanity.  And as you engage in conversation with those people, you realize that Jesus may be more radical than you thought.  It just isn’t like him to cast out people in large masses for being different.  So maybe everything isn’t simply right or wrong.  Maybe grace stretches wider than our rules.

8.     Dry Shampoo is what has been missing in your life.  I know you wash and style your hair every day, but this is going to rock your world.  In about six years, you’ll hear about this mystical thing called dry-shampoo. You’ll say, “Wait, I’m sorry. What did you say?  I can sleep 30 minutes longer each morning, by spraying this on my head?  Is this real life?”  You’ll try it for $3, and it’s all this and more.  Turns out your hair can be “trained,” and you will only wash your hair once a week.  What!  I know your mind is blown.  So keep on with the daily Herbal Essence that you asked for on your Christmas list.  But your shampoo budget and getting ready time will be cut immensely soon.  I know, it sounds too good to be true.  Hashtag Jesus.

   

9. Find someone with a beautiful core who knows what they’re about.  You’ll be on the lookout for someone to spend your life with.  You’ll be terrified when a guy who’ve known for awhile pursues you.  Intensely pursues you.  He’ll be pretty awkward and tell you on your first date what he will be naming his first boy.  He wants to be upfront so you can run if that’s a deal breaker.  You’ll date several nice guys, but this one will feel different.  He’ll tell you that he never dated or kissed anyone before you, because he knew what he wanted and was willing to wait.  He falls in love with you one night where you pour out the pain in your life in front of a room full of people.  He will watch from the back and appreciate your honesty and vulnerability.  He will point you toward love and grace.  He will point you toward freedom from guilt and shame.  He will point you toward not pleasing others when you’re running around Nashville trying to make people happy. He will point you toward balance.  You guys will disagree, but you’ll always work it out.  A lot of people will be intimidated by him and not understand him.  You used to try to hide the intense parts of him, but now, you learn to appreciate that and help him round out the rough edges.  Things will always be changing.  His mental illness will change. His job will change.  His friends will change.  His hobbies will change.  His body will change.  His creative energies will change.  But his core doesn’t change.  What he’s about doesn’t change.  While you’re getting ready to start your relationship with him, be ready.  Be ready to be challenged to be a better person.  To be a better lover to the stranger.  To get outside your comfort zone. To be friends with people that are different.  But you’ll always have to order the pizza, because he’s scared to talk on the phone.  You’ll also have to help him navigate social situations.  But you can look forward to a relationship of give and take and a little bit of crazy every now and then. 

10. Everyone knows a good letter has to end in an even number.  So I’ll reserve number ten for what I am still learning.  When you reach thirty, you don’t feel like you’ve learned a lot, until you start writing it down.  So for now, here’s nine and one to grow on, since you’ll always be growing.

So 20-year-old Liz, keep on.  Things will get better. They will get more confusing. They will get exhausting.  They will get busy.  They will get exciting.  Stay the course and enjoy those size 6 pants and bikinis while you can.

Love,

30-year-old Liz