A Tale of Two Convos

Sometimes when you're not doing a great job with communicating with God, He just tells you. Very bluntly what you need to know. I sure did get His message today.

At the middle school today one of my students threw me for a loop. She was the first one to class, before the bell even rang. It was odd for her to be waiting at my door. She says, "Will you send me upstairs?" Which "upstairs" means CSR, and honestly I don't know what CSR stands for, but it does mean the kid is in trouble. I thought, okay this is a weird request. And then goes our conversation:

"Why do you want to go upstairs? You mean CSR?"

"Yes. I am a bad kid." 

"No you're not." (Which is true. Great grades. Respectful. Quiet. Wait.. do I ever really talk to this kid? Like really?) 

"I am a bad kid." 

"Why are you a bad kid?" 

"They told me I was a bad kid." 

"Who? I don't think you are a bad kid. You are a great student in my class. Why do you think you are a bad kid?" 

"I'm not popular. I don't wear the right clothes. I don't have any friends. The only friend I have is the devil. I hate God. God took my mom away from me. I have already chosen my path and I am going to Hell. I am not going to Heaven with the rest of my family." 

Ahhhhh how I wish there was a pause button on life at times. Because what do you say when a 14 year old girl says this to you? What do you say when she tells you to make something bad up that she did so that she can leave the class? What do you say when she tells you that she is ugly and that nobody loves her? That she hates God? 

I don't know most of what I told her. But we talked and she calmed down and she was fine for class. She's been in my head all day. Sam has been in my head all day. I have never truly felt a student's pain so clearly until I was face to face with her, telling her she was beautiful. I was about to lose it and she didn't even know it. I just don't get it. Any of it. I don't understand anything she has gone through. I don't understand why she even told me. It came out of left field. 

You know what else comes out of left field? Flat tires. Flat tires are never fun. And that is exactly what I had to deal with after school today. Slightly irritated, I aired up my completely flat tire enough to run it across town to Becker Tire.

Once at Becker Tire, things got interesting. I grabbed a pop and took it over to the waiting area. The waiting area had one old lady with a walker in it. This old lady was sleeping. Actually, she was fake sleeping because as soon as I crack open my can of pop she is talking to me. Which always happens to me. Thank you, God. 

"What kind of phone do you have there?" 

Because of course what teenager/ young adult isn't on their phone always?

After we got through the 5 minute conversation about phones, I found out her name is Kay. She started talking about her grandson Logan, an 8th grader, who just moved here from Lawrence. She talked a lot about Logan and his Dad in Lawrence. I mentioned briefly that I was a teacher, because she mention Logan thought student's were more respectful here in Ark City as opposed to Lawrence or Wichita. Good news people! :)

By this point I have completely given up on my quiet waiting room time and have put my phone completely away. I surrender, God. 

Then she asks what I teach? After I tell her agriculture, she starts telling me all these stories about her "home ec" teacher and her time as a FHA (Future Homemakers of America) member. She was the Secretary of her chapter in Argonia and got her state degree. In fact, she was only the second girl from her school that earned her state degree.

Then she told me the story about going to Topeka to be awarded the degree. She talked about walking on stage to shake hands in front of hundreds of people. She said, "I was just this country bumpkin that would get my ass kicked if I looked crossed eyed at home. I was so nervous." 

She then talked about her abusive mother. She told me the role her FHA advisor took in helping her in life. She told me her teacher didn't even really say a lot but that she sure did help her. She gave her flowers after she earned her state degree. She told me about her personal decision that she was going to either end her life at her own hands or get the hell out of her house. Which she obviously did the latter. She told me she had a ulterior motive to all of that....she wanted to live! Later, in life she ended up having to be her mother's caretaker and she eventually forgave her. 

It was quite an amazing story. It amazed me that God had placed the sleeping old lady, named Kay, in my waiting room. It was like she was there just to bug me and tell me stories. It was literally blowing my mind because her situations and stories were so divinely crafted to speak to the situations I was dealing with. And she didn't even know it. All she knew about   me is that I had an iPhone and taught Ag. 

When she was leaving she told me this word for word:

"What I am trying to tell you is that sometimes you are helping kids more than you know." 

"Thank you for telling me that."

"Thank you for listening."

The Courage to be a Teacher

Maybe the novelty will wear off someday but I sure hope not. 

I spent my Saturday slowly and purposefully getting ready to go to the Easter Vigil Mass. It's impossible to not think about the events of that day two years earlier and how I felt leading up to my baptism and entrance into the Catholic church. All day long it was if time had stopped and I was left in awe of God. Mainly in awe of His goodness, the people He has brought into my life and how He continues to woo me to draw me closer to Him. I felt like the luckiest girl on the planet. 

Sadly this post is not about the Vigil. An hour before the Vigil I found out Sam had died. We think he took his own life. I went to mass, then went and got ice cream with a friend I had promised earlier, and then found myself just sitting in my car. I was holding my rosary, trying to pray, but thinking about how I just wanted to bop Sam in the head. Then hug him. 

Sam wasn't even my own student. More like an adopted student because of how often I saw him at FFA events, working closely with his FFA chapter, and serving as district advisor when he was a district officer with three of my kids. Sam was that Winfield kid that would always talk to me, always have some joke or story, or weird noise to tell/show me. He was lighthearted and loved FFA. He truly appreciated how his ag teacher had helped turn his life around when he was a wee lil 8th grader and turned him from a student that got in trouble with all his teachers to one that was respectful and knowledgeable about ag. Heck he even had a speech with this story in it that I must have heard a hundred times! He would randomly bust out a set of reasons, most of the time not even about livestock. I can remember how he debated in par law. He didn't get mad at me when I ordered his district officer shirt with his last name misspelled. He just wore it anyway. He was a handful to get focused on workshop stuff but looked awesome in a Dr. Seuss hat. He played guitar. He was there at the dreaded Casey's gas station incident that I am not allowed to talk about. I could talk to Sam about God. Sam was a great friend to my kids. I am blessed to know Sam.

He was troubled the past year or so but was trying to earn trust back. He was working on mending relationships. The last time I met up with Sam was in December when he and I went to get ice cream. He was humbled and he was hopeful. We parted with a hug. I have text him a few times since. But when I found out the news of his death, it had been over two months since I had heard from him. 

Now I know it's not really fair to think like that. It not's fair to think that things would be different if I would have just texted him to see how his day was going. In fact, I do that with pretty much everyone I know. I think about them, wonder how they are, what new thing they might be up to, and then fail to follow up with a simple text. 

Sam's death makes me think about kids I see everyday. How I want to do so much for them but it seems like it is never enough. 

My kids fight battles that are so far over my head. One of my kids got into a fight with his Dad, screaming inches from his face, and ended up getting kicked out of the house. Another kid doesn't have a key to her own house because of her stepfather. She has to sneak around to go to church.  She played me a Matthew West song the other day. I have a kid that deals with an alcoholic father. I have a kid that doesn't have a mother that is very present at all and is raised by her Dad. And whenever she tells me about her Dad's girlfriend, I wish I could have a sit down with the lady and tell her how special this kid is. I want to tell her that she better treat her right because I love her. Or the kid that would lose his top with me and sometimes me with him. We'd talk later when he was settled down and he was so broken it hurt me. I didn't know what to do. Yet another kid was sleeping in class and when I talked to him, he told me he wasn't allowed to sleep the past week because he had to help his family move and they could only do it at night. Or the young lady that often wants to stay in my room over lunch because she doesn't have money. Countless kids take care of their brother and sisters while their parents go out to party. Countless kids have their paychecks taken my parents. For what? Cigarettes and fines. Countless kids are getting high and getting drunk and having sex. 

Some of these stories are from kids I know very well but then there are some that I barely know. They talk so freely and openly to me. They are crying out for help even as they are being flaky, disrespectful, angry or frustrating to me. They don't know how to deal with these situations any better than I do. 

Sometimes I give up. I get fed up. I wash my hands clean of the kids. 

A friend sent me this when I found out about Sam: 

"i haven't been at this very long but the bond that is built between us and them is stronger than any of us ever really realizes. i believe that's why i get so upset with them and their parents when they don't realize what we'd do for them. it's one of those things that in all reality i would like to just run from it to keep from getting hurt but i can't...i'm too stubborn to let myself do that"

It takes courage to be a teacher and to still put your neck out there. We do get hurt... a lot. We give so much. Sometimes you pour everything you are, what seems like your whole life, into these kids just to get hurt. I pray that God continues to give me the grace and strength I need to help keep giving, and for the courage to help them with their battles.

Back to the Vigil. It was extremely holy, moving and beautiful. God truly is so good. Also, one of my confirmation boys and his Dad ended up sitting by me. This boy and I tend to butt heads and I think he is a little turd most of the time. However, during the sign of peace I reached out my hand and told him, "peace be with you." He did that same. I am sure that has been the nicest thing we have said to each other. It clicked. And I truly want that for him. I want all my kids to know that peace. 

Lastly, I leave you with a bit of the Colossians reading from Easter Sunday. Because it gives me hope. 

"Seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Think of what is above, not of what is on earth." 

May Sam's soul rest in peace!