A Broken World
It's not news that we live in a broken world with broken hearts, souls, and people, but for me, it is more real than ever. This is the seventh year of my teaching career, and this year, I am striving to be intentional in a different kind of way. It's the way that I have always been about, and it's what has always been important. However, my level of intentionality is at a new place, a new level.
I want to grow my students.
Not their test scores.
Not their writing ability.
Not their reading level.
Them.
I want to grow them as people, as human beings.
And yes, of course, I hope that I improve all those other things too because that's what the standards are, and we have to do that, but day one I told all my students, "If you don't leave my class a better person than when you got here, I'm not doing my job." I told them I had one major expectation: KINDNESS. I told them I would not tolerate anything less than that, and I told them this included themselves. (There will be no negative self talk in my room. No saying, "My essays sucks!" Instead, I will redirect them to say, this one was tough, and I am going to keep getting better.)
It's different. It's a different mindset.
It's a shift.
And I've always done these things, but not with this level of intentionality. I am challenging myself.
I did a thing with a notecard as part of my day one lesson. I stole it from a friend (who stole it from Pinterest because a great teacher is a great steward of other people's materials). I had my kids share ANYTHING they wanted me to know about them on a notecard. I told them it could be deep and dark or light and fluffy. It could be anything.
Don't get it wrong: some of my kids wrote down how much they love macaroni, but LOTS of kids shared with me their brokenness. They shared their struggles. They shared their fears. They shared their past mistakes.
I am taking the time to respond to each student. (It may just be a line or two back.) The power of this feels deep. It feels weighty in a way that I have't experienced in seven years of doing this very same job.
It feels important. It feels essential. It feels necessary.
Please pray for me this year. Pray that I would have wisdom and guidance in this place. Pray for my students. Pray that my lessons would be the soothing things they need. Pray that I can inspire them. Pray that I can encourage them. Pray that I can help them with their burdens. Pray that I walk and talk and breathe my testimony in a way that draws them closer to God. Please PRAY.
I want to grow my students.
Not their test scores.
Not their writing ability.
Not their reading level.
Them.
I want to grow them as people, as human beings.
And yes, of course, I hope that I improve all those other things too because that's what the standards are, and we have to do that, but day one I told all my students, "If you don't leave my class a better person than when you got here, I'm not doing my job." I told them I had one major expectation: KINDNESS. I told them I would not tolerate anything less than that, and I told them this included themselves. (There will be no negative self talk in my room. No saying, "My essays sucks!" Instead, I will redirect them to say, this one was tough, and I am going to keep getting better.)
It's different. It's a different mindset.
It's a shift.
And I've always done these things, but not with this level of intentionality. I am challenging myself.
I did a thing with a notecard as part of my day one lesson. I stole it from a friend (who stole it from Pinterest because a great teacher is a great steward of other people's materials). I had my kids share ANYTHING they wanted me to know about them on a notecard. I told them it could be deep and dark or light and fluffy. It could be anything.
Don't get it wrong: some of my kids wrote down how much they love macaroni, but LOTS of kids shared with me their brokenness. They shared their struggles. They shared their fears. They shared their past mistakes.
I am taking the time to respond to each student. (It may just be a line or two back.) The power of this feels deep. It feels weighty in a way that I have't experienced in seven years of doing this very same job.
It feels important. It feels essential. It feels necessary.
Please pray for me this year. Pray that I would have wisdom and guidance in this place. Pray for my students. Pray that my lessons would be the soothing things they need. Pray that I can inspire them. Pray that I can encourage them. Pray that I can help them with their burdens. Pray that I walk and talk and breathe my testimony in a way that draws them closer to God. Please PRAY.
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