Still Enough

 There are about a thousand things I cannot publicly say about the 2021-2022 school year but I'll just give you the understatement of the year and say:

It's been a challenge.

And because I can't stand to see teachers make vague comments and then wonder if it's my kid they're talking about, let me also offer this clarification:

The kids in room 220 have been ZERO PERCENT of the cause of that challenge. I always tend to adore my students, but this year it has been above and beyond. The absolute most perfect little AP class, a group that makes me feel completely comfortable and loved every single minute, a group that is so dang mature and perceptive that I sometimes wonder how they are real... An awesomely fun senior English class last semester, a group that never gave me a dull moment and worked hard... A Holocaust Lit class that could not have been a better group of human beings, just a joy to teach and so focused and caring and smart and kind... a senior English class this semester that laughs at more of my pitiful jokes than any class ever has and that has a higher level of attention to Macbeth than I have ever seen, plus they are just sweet... an English II Honors class that came out of nowhere and fell into my lap and that I have decided was a singular gift from God meant to reward me for making it to May this year, they are so perfect. So the kids? The kids are fine. Better than fine, actually.

But this year has been hard and in some ways it's only getting harder and big changes have come and are coming on a lot of levels and I've had to work through a lot of things for myself over the past month and a half. It's not a secret to say that turnover in education is currently very high and only projected to climb higher, and that is true at the local level as well. And truthfully, it's tough to be the one "left there", in a sense. I don't judge those who have left and are leaving, not one bit. But I have realized through some pretty heartbreaking dreams I have had (one in which I woke sobbing) that I have some abandonment issues that this is awakening. I am also revisiting some really deeply buried insecurities that I haven't seen in about fifteen years or more that center on "settling" and "selling out". 

I remember in high school, hearing all of those around me talk about wanting to get out of Cleveland and feeling like there was something wrong with me because I wanted to stay. I remember in college, switching my major to English and knowing it was what I was meant to do, but also hearing it echo in my head, "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." I remember (and it still happens today) talking to others about their lives and their jobs and, when asked about "what's new with you", only having this to say: "Oh, same things as the past 21 years, just living in Cleveland and teaching and raising a family!" 

In my heart, I don't feel like any of those things are "just" things. I am doing exactly what I planned to do, what I longed to do, what I set out to do. And truthfully, most days I feel that I am doing all of it pretty dang well. 

But in this mad rush for the door that is happening nationwide, I don't have the option to go. Would I, if I did? I don't know. I think if several things in this state go the way I think they are going to go, I would very seriously consider it. I would miss the kids something fierce, but I might go. But the fact of the matter is that it doesn't matter because the option for me does not exist. I am here. Where I will stay until I turn out those lights in 11 years for the last time and take my $3/sick day or whatever it is and my stacks of novels bought from McKays with my money and my bulletin board of photographs and my yard sale purchased furniture and my 4.0 Banquet trophies and my bags of student letters and cards and drive away from 850 Raider Dr for the last time.

So because the option to go isn't there, I am in a situation where I have shape my perspective in whatever way I need to for me to be able to peacefully stay. I have to to find the good in the things I will be living with for 11 more years and see that as self-preservation, not selling out. This week I had to do some hard work inside my heart and brain and sort through these feelings and thoughts. There were tears and there was pressing down on the bruise and wounds, pressing that didn't feel good but was necessary in order to see where the hurts were that needed to heal. 

At the absolute height of rifling through my rolodex of emotions this week, literally out of the clear blue, I got a fb message from a former student who is probably pushing mid-30's now. And it shouldn't be surprising to know that God used this kid-turned-man to say exactly the words my heart needed to find the strength to face the inner demons and to find what I needed to move forward. The number of times this has happened in a 21 year career, when I have gotten a message in one of a hundred different formats and platforms that was precisely what I needed to hear (and often from a completely unexpected source, either a kid I didn't even get particularly those to or from a "kid" who is now a grown adult with a family of his or her own), is innumerable. God has always used the written word to encourage me and I love His timing.

So to every teacher out there who is feeling some of what I was feeling or all of what I was feeling or possibly even more and bigger of what I was feeling... 

Claim this message for yourself too today. No matter what has changed, and no matter what WILL change, you are "still enough". Now excuse me while I go cry again at the impeccable timing of this beautiful message.