Un-school.

It is my second year of un-school. I survived my first summer with a full-time job. Yes, you read that correctly. I have never worked a real full-time job during the summer in my entire life. It is not a solicitation for sympathy, but a statement of fact. So after 17 first days of school as a student and then 14 more as a teacher (yep, that is a total of 31 school year photos), I see all of the "first day of school" photos all over social media and for a split second, my former life comes into focus. And do I miss it? Nope. Not one ounce. Don't get my wrong, I treasure my years as a student and as a teacher, but the freedom in this life is astronomical.

Grandpa.

In the recent passing of my last grandparent (rest in peace, dear Grandpa), thoughts of my upbringing and family come in to conversation, particularly when it coincides with a rather recent dating relationship as you learn about each other in the various lie aspects. The reoccurring theme for me in conversation is realizing that in my nature, I have been quite a people pleaser, which is ironic being that I had/have such a stubborn streak. It all ties back to life as a teacher.

Growing up, I wanted to be a lot of things. I know there was a time, though brief, that I wanted to be an astronaut. I was told that girls can't be astronauts, so there was that (Where was my girl power then?). And then when I wanted to be a doctor, I remember my grandpa asking me if someone came to me with a face gushing blood, could I stitch them up? So ended my medical career before it could even begin. And as I knew that it was in my nature to teach, a job fair at Biola where Whittier Christian was in attendance, I had a conversation with some of the folk and weeks later I was setting up a classroom. I had become everything I swore I never would.

And though I have reflected on life as a teacher in past posts, I am now celebrating one full year in this new life commemorated in my first annual review yesterday with the owners of the company I now work. I know that in the past, I have had a few asses for bosses that destroyed my sense of being and then some that I cherish for the way that they built my spirit. This was evident in my feeling of the review as I walked in feeling no hesitation as to my value. I was not nervous. I was not apprehensive. All to say that I obviously work in an environment that helps me thrive. I am able to feel empowered and encouraged in who I am. There is a dynamic that is a valued nucleus. And more importantly, I am not following the path of familiarity or what is considered safe and stable. I can have my hair purple. Not worry about any visible tattoos. To not feel stifled in creativity. I have spent the last year and some by finally chasing my own dreams.  Not the dreams others have dreamt for me. This chapter has given me strength to not let others dictate my dreams. It may come across in a form of rebelliousness, which is not intended (though we all have a bit of that in our nature, perhaps). Rather, I think this is more about freedom. I am free to embrace the person within and not feel shame. It is awesome and exhausting all at once. It is not something I can shut off.

My second year of un-school photo.
In New York.
For work.
Nope. Can't complain.

There is a positive energy to fill my world and yours. God is still at work. One is never too old to chase dreams. One is never too old for a do-over. Or a second chance. Go get 'em, kids.

So here is to my own second official year of un-school. Cheers.

HardKore Rap (That's hardkore...with a K).

As I have 12.5 days left of my teaching career (not that I am counting), I am looking back on some major highlights (I will ignore the lowlights) of my career as a teacher. In all honesty, those that are teachers may understand that teaching is like starring in your own reality show. It is not that we are the stars, but we get to have this recurring role in a constant comedy act/drama/telenovela of entertainment in which we actually get paid. Certainly not the pay of A-list celebrities, but more like the pay of an "extra" that you have to search real hard to see in the shot.

In my last 14 years...

I have been told that my hair looks real nice, "like a Laker girl." (I will take that as most of those women have great hair.)

I may or may not have removed all of the chair and stools from a classroom and saran wrapped them together. Outside. In a pile. With a colleague that will remain nameless.

Did you know that "Jesus and his resurrection was boss?" (You do now, and you also know that resurrection is a vocab word.)

Dutchland is NOT where Dutch people are from. Certain students thought that was the case. Dutch people are from Holland (the Netherlands), but according to my former History student, those people are Hollish. And when I jokingly told the story to my colleagues and said some smart remark about her History teacher, I realized that yes, I was in fact said teacher.

Maturity: to not laugh at a stupid word like sex. (Yes, I did get that definition on a vocab quiz.)

Awkward moments abound. Come on, this is middle school. How can there not be a plethora of those?! I wish I could tell those stories too, but I am working on boundaries.

I have gone through stock in purple pens.

I have had my room littered with hundred of copies of the scientific drawings of the male and female sex organs. Copies of which I still find in my files to this day...years later.

There was once a wonderful persuasive essay written about why I should change a student's seat. The essay was quite effective as she did have a new view the next day in class.

I have learned how to do the Harlem shake. (There is a YouTube video to prove it. Ask my volleyball team.)

There have been wacky days, color days, dress up days. I have been Dorothy from Wizard of Oz, a daughter from Sound of Music, Rosie the Rivoter. I have dressed in duct tape. Had a skateboarder jump over me. I have shared my cancer journey in chapel.

I have been a Crusader my entire teaching career as it was the mascot of both schools.

Kids have molded and shaped me as a person. It is amazing that as I am supposed to be their teacher, yet it is I that gets to learn.

I have graded thousands of essays. Judged many speech meets. Had hundreds of parent conferences. Sent too many emails. Been yelled at. Loved. Appreciated. And blessed.

Worked for 6 principals (Mr. Peters, you are the reason I taught. You truly are a hero of mine). Served under 5 superintendents. Had many secretaries (All of which I adore and seem to keep the school in one piece--what a gift each of those women are to the staffs they have served!).

I have listened to many accents (including those of Duck Dynasty, robot sounds, teacher impressions--I guess I wave my hands a lot when I teach) as I witnessed many kids act out their vocab homework every Wednesday. French Fry Debates have packed on a few extra calories each year as it is key that I test the product (I still have my favorite fries--Fronks). The Grendel trial has been exciting.  Some natural born lawyers in those classes of mine.

Volleyball games, practices, and teams have been a chance for me to know students in a completely different element. We have been able to win championships and sportsmanships. We have seen a few seasons that we were just excited to be .500. Coaching has been incredible.

It has been a wonderful experience to know these kids. To be in relationship with them as teacher and coach. Mentor and friend. To see them succeed, graduate high school, finish college, get married and even start families. A few of my former students are even now on their third kid. (Amazing how that happens as I am 24 years old, according to my students...God love them.)

And this week, as we wrap up a track season (of great success), my Boys' Volleyball team plays for a championship (Come on, boys!) and we have our 14th and final French Fry Debate, I am reminded by my student (Bling, Bling Big Ed as he has asked me to call him), school is serious business. I am proud of each student. Proud of their work. Efforts. Joy. And perseverance into this journey as they become the person God has created each of them to be. School is hardkore with a "k." Call it skool, if you will. And when things get tough, it is so much better to break out in rap. Being a student can bring out the thug life, in your school uniform, of course.