"or self destruction will happen"

I started the year with 23 students and they have each become a part of my life more than I really should admit. But when you're a part of TFA and a part of an extended day charter school, and you've spent more than 140 days with these children, they just sort of... grow on you. Seriously. They climb on you and hug on you and wipe their germs on you and sometimes, I feel like a moss-covered creature at the end of the day, with nearly 10 hours of blood, sweat, laughter and tears poured out for the benefit of these little creeps.

I love each of my little Aggies. But as you can imagine, it was easier to love some of them right from the start. In comes my rocket scientist. He is a sweet boy, quiet and shy and awkward. He wants to be a mechanic to help his dad and he wants to be an inventor to create potions when he grows up. His life is karate, video games, and being awkward.

We started the year in a rocky place because I had no patience for his booger wiping. Literally, middle of a math lesson, his finger is nearly to his brain and there's nastiness all over the table. Then he tells his dad at home that people make fun of him for being gross, and his dad is mad that I don't really have a lot of sympathy. Dude, we're 8. Wipe your boogers somewhere else and get a tissue. Also, he thinks I really enjoy hearing stories about vampires and blood. Over lunch. Umkay.

I'll cut to the chase. We're a part of TELPAS testing at our school to determine whether or not students are fluent in the English language and how much they've grown over the past year. (It's a state mandated process.) Part of the testing consists of 5 writing samples done over 5 weeks. In reviewing them today, I read his writing from February where students were given a list of science topics and had to choose one. Here's my friend's essay about "Why Lab Rules Are Important"... please note that there was not a period or comma found anywhere. Where were you during the puncuation lessons? Outer space? Perhaps looking for gross things inside your nose??

"cause if you are messing aroudn the lab something could pxloud or will be broken and when astronots luanch the rocket they will not know how to pilot the rocketship or land the rocket ship or if they are lifting a toxic thing they will trep over and everyon will have to be very quiet and if you are playing so so long in the laboratorie you mite hit the red button or break it with a ball wet it and then the big booming or self destruction will happen."

Upset as I may be over the lack of puncutation, I'm quite proud of him, and do think someday he'll be wearing a white lab coat and conducting some sort of experient in a college lab someday. And probably talking in a Russian accent. Gig Em, Ags.

RIP liz taylor, love the third graders

at 8:05 am we start our day with a morning meeting, after 20 minutes of brain warm up work and review. we go over our calendar, introduce our "officer of the day" (thank you, camp longhorn, for that brilliant idea) and we do "this day in history." by the time i got to that today, i was standing at the board and my sweet little friend who pretends to be a chicken sometimes was talking over me incessantly.

"you know the rules. one voice at a time. go to your desk." so she's coloring on scratch paper at her desk, and i'm telling people about how the exxon valdez spilled in 1989 and we're locating Alaska on our giant map.

"Ms. ROBBBBBBB." she screams from her seat half way across the room. most of the students don't even register that she's talking. i give her a look and move on to 2002, when denzel and halle made history for african americans at the oscars.

"You're forgetting something!!!!!!!! THAT ACTRESS WITH THE PURPLE EYE SHADOW DIIIIIIIIEEEEEEDDDD! She died."

"How did you know that," I asked from our meeting area.

She didn't even look up at me.

"Oh, saw it on the news this MORNING. While i was eating BREAKFAST. I had....NAAACCCHOOOOOOOSSSS."

Oh, how I love starting the day on the "I had nachos for breakfast and the actress with the purple eyeshadow died and I can't sit still because I don't want to" foot. Because I immediately know that it will be 9 hours of adventure.

miracles, faith, grace, and bears! oh my!

my mom is a wonderful person and my best friend, but i talked about that enough on her birthday, you can read it all here: http://courtneyrob.blogspot.com/2011/02/lets-dance-in-glow-of-those-51-birthday.html

today i'd like to talk about miracles. and grace. and faith.

my mom has been cancer free for a year exactly TODAY. miracle!

my mom has been told she has cancer, had great insurance and medical provision and skilled doctors to perform surgery, and 365 days later, no longer has cancer. grace!

my mom does not deserve to be on earth more than our friend jay chenoweth, or wesley gentry, or others i could name who did not beat cancer. it's confusing and mindboggling and maddening and yet... peace washes over me like a river. faith.

there is a god more powerful and more righteous and more loving than i can fathom. there is a god. i know this through nightmares like cancer and death, and through wonders like traveling to yellowstone with my parents.

we saw bears in the wildnerness and my mom didn't hug them as if they were a golden retriever. nor were we eaten. miracle! i have parents who are great friends of mine, and the financial ability to drive to wyoming last summer to hang out in yellowstone, and then spent a week in montana solo. grace! plans that are made and come smashing down, or plans like that vacation that are even better than expected - i don't know why sometimes it's one way and sometimes it's another, but i trust in something wiser and bigger than myself. faith.

it's been a crazy year, full of emotions and doctors and wonderful, wonderful friends. denise williams built a website, for goodness sake! people lined up to drop off food for my bro and my dad, as if they would starve if my mom was in bed for several weeks. they would have been fine eating captain crunch with berries.

i'm not sure i have ever felt more scared when it was just me and my mom in the staging area after surgery - my dad came out and said my mom wanted to see me. better swallow that fear, i guess. i followed signs to the back, through several hallways and around a curtain. mom!

she looked horrible, it smelled awful, and i was frightened. what would the docs would tell us? how bad were things in there? mom was in and out of consciousness, yet so glad to see me, and i honestly wasn't sure she at that moment whether she was going to make it, she looked so horrible. why did they think i was old enough or mature enough to be back there alone? i began to panic.

and then mary chenoweth came around the corner, grabbed my hand, and talked with me and my mom before we got in trouble for having two people with a patient. (strictly one only please!) mary chenoweth is my miracle, that she knows my family and willing is friends with us. (a normal person would run. also, the thorntons and the martins and many, many, many others who know us and still stick around, they are our miracles too.)

my mom is my saving grace, that she is on this earth and that i am so immensely blessed to have her as a friend and mom.

faith, well, that is what has grown in me like a wildflower since this all began. i clung to my faith as mom had this huge, intense, multi-hour surgery, then radiation, millions of doctors, lots of fatigue, some hotflashes, crazy hair moments.

i had faith that my dad would be okay, even though sometimes i felt like if i pushed him too hard with just my finger, he might just crumble. faith that my grandparents would make it as they watched this daughter deal with the dreaded, life threatening word cancer.

faith. to have faith means i coudn't worry too much, and i did not. i felt oddly at peace with everything during our six weeks of treatment. what could our family have done? worry? no. pray? yes. and love. and hope. and dance and laugh and laugh and cry and love. i've learned through the trials of this dark, awful word cancer, that it is not our will, but His. Not my will, O lord, but thine.

My mom beat cancer, a miracle I can't explain. But, I can chalk it up to grace and faith. I've learned that questions are sometimes good, and sometimes silly. Who am I to question things I cannot change? We can continue to lead a life of prayer and not of fear or worry. We can hug each other and love each other and dance with each other, and at the end of the day, give thanks to the one who made it all possible.

I'm so thankful my mom's surgery and stress of radiation is over. I know it wasn't easy on her. This past year has flown by, and my mom, my dad, my grandparents, and all of our terrific friends held us up with such grace and faith.

My world was kind of cracked this time last year, as if a hammer had smashed my sidewalk and broken it into pieces. But my mom has stepped over those cracks, and grace and faith have grown up around the mess to make something gross and scary, actually quite beautiful.

philippians 4:6-8

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. 9 Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

** it must be said that on the very top of my mom's bucket list was to see a bear in the wild - not the zoo or a habitat. we saw 8 bears this summer during our time in yellowstone and crossed that right off the list. yahoo! **

back to reality

10 days of vacation can cause a girl to lose her grip on reality. Sleeping in, three days in the hill country, spring weather and baseball games, wonderful friends, freetime, twostepping, cowboy boots, cows, cowboys, a lot of sunshine... i was starting to float off. But, 5:25 alarm clocks and BAM! nothing like twenty-two eight year olds and the things that fly out of their mouths to bring me crashing back to earth.

Overheard on the playground today: "i missed you over spring break, ms. rob." student flips up my skirt and pulls on my bracelets, looking up at me. "i love your skirt. and your smile. and your bracelets. i love everything about you ms. rob..." and before my heart completely melted and i could utter "thank you," she quickly added:

"except for your hair. i don't understand why you would cut it like that!" well, thank you for your honesty, why don't you like it?
"too short. you had pretty curls. now it is...well....like...boring."
oh, third graders.

their enthusiasm for the small things in life was refreshing today. my "do-now" assignment for them this morning was to write 10 descriptive words on a notecard describing their break. Then, in complete sentences, tell me a high from your break, a low, and how it made you feel. (shout out to caitlin hodges who still does this at age...somewhere south of 30.)

i went to the public library of houston, it was fun i even went to the disney store. presidents, history, flowers, i love to read!

My high was that i went somewhere I've never been - Atlanta - to see my aunt!

My break was tremendously awesome. I went to the Houston rodeo with a very special guest. His name was...

My low was when we went to the movies and only saw one movie and didn't eat candy. but at least we saw a movie.

on my break i felt awesome because i had a lot of visitors at my house and we ate pizza for one week.

My favorite conversation of the day... before school, one of my highest academic kiddos came up to me. You must know that he wants to be like Taylor Swift when he grows up, despite the fact they have different genders, skin colors, and musical abilities.

"So, Ms. Robinson, I know you enjoy fishing and you've told us a story about when you've been fishing and that's cool but ... my dad made me go fishing and it was disgusting. Ew. Hahaha. You just can't believe how disgusting.

He followed up that in-person conversation with this writing: I caught a grous slimy obackscious fish. ew. You shouldve seen the crazyness, the excitement, the faint! And, the most boring part {of my break} was going to a seafood restaurant.

Apparently he does not appreciate catching or eating fish. At least he makes his opinions clear.

Thanks for reading, welcome back to school ladies and gentlemen. Hold onto your hats, because the next 26 school days (until state testing) are going to be a wild ride!

love immeasurable, love divine

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfTTB1a5a2M

Love Immeasurable, Love Divine

I know that most people in the real world do not get a Spring Break like us crazy schoolteachers. I am so very grateful for a week off to sleep, catch up on writing and reading, go for a bike ride, escape to the lake, and because it's rodeo season - spend nearly 50 hours out at the Show over the past week. I promise a rodeo-wrap up later. Have you ever heard of Earth, Texas? Well, you will.

Love Immeasurable, Love Divine

This song has been stuck in my head the past few days. I am aware through my job, my friends, my world, and the grace of God, that love is what makes the world go round. Love is what makes vacations like spring break glorious, (good friends, three days with my crazy parentals, seeing grandparents) and love is what gets us through the 9-5 each week. (Who came up with that phrase, 9-5? Was it Dolly Parton? Whoever it was, I'd like to shoot them. Because it's more like 7 to 5:45 in my world. 9 to 5 sounds like vacay.)

I've been organizing my photos while I was at the lake this past weekend, and wanted to post a few from my rowdy roadtrip last summer. They remind me of how much this life is not to be taken for granted, how easy it is to see God in the beauty of the world around us. I often forget just how much the love and sacrifice of the cross provides such freedom for all of us who walk on this messy, often chaotic place we call Earth.

May you feel loved today and in this coming week!

"Drowning in a well of dark despair

Dropped a rope and dragged me up for air

Purged my lungs of liquid, given voice

Bid this twisted tongue of mine rejoice

Love immeasurable, love divine,

Love unlocked this prison mine

Love who paid for all my crime

Wrap my heart in Thine"

zac brown band

Do you ever become frustrated with yourself because you feel like an idiot? Okay, maybe it’s just me.

But seriously, since this whole teaching thing began, I’ve found myself overly emotional and feeling silly on more occasions than I would like to admit. Let’s take the song “Highway 20 Ride” by Zac Brown Band. Not something that should upset me. But for whatever reason, his voice and the violin and the sweetness of that song have caused me to openly weep twice. Last night at the rodeo I had visible tears rolling down my face and mascara who knows where. And once last summer, with good friend Lunden McGill, with whom I try extra hard not to seem like an idiot, I was sobbing listening to that song on the way to the lake. Sure, it was the end of the school year at that time, and I was exhausted. But both times I’ve been so mad at myself, felt so foolish, for crying over a song that has little to actually do with me. But then I’ve stopped myself – if I pray for a heart like God’s, if I pray for eyes to see and ears to hear and my heart to not be hardened to the world, well… then maybe it’s okay to occasionally become a bit of a puddle, to be moved by music, to hurt for my kiddos.

The song doesn’t remind me much of my student’s dad last year, but more so, myself and him. Loving him so much and not knowing how to fix things, how to heal him, how to make it better. When Zac Brown belts out “and I slowly died inside” that was me last year on a nearly daily basis, in small or major ways.

His life at home was a complete mess, more than I can fathom, and therefore his half day at school with me was also a mess. He was suspended a time or two for extremely violent behavior – at age 3. I held him in my arms on somedays when he cried, or chased him on other days when he was angry and just needed to bolt. I held down his hands while he tried to stab other children with pencils, or slap them in the face, and I cleaned up his intentional bathroom accidents on more than 25 schooldays.
Looking back on last year, especially the spring, I’m surprised how little I broke down. There were days, sure, that I sobbed on the way home from work. There were a few times that I really felt I truly just could not do this anymore. And I think it was love and faith and hope that brought me through. I prayed for help or wisdom or anything on a daily basis. Somehow, I was able to block out the things I was not able to change – like his home life - and just continue to show up to love that sweet child, among 17 other toddlers, for four hours each day.

Because I felt so clearly drawn to join TFA, knew I had to trust all that had happened after that decision. So, as much as I wanted to leave last year, much as I argued this student wasn’t ready to be in school and it wasn’t fair to other students, I knew we were both there for a reason. I would not, by any means, call teaching him the pleasure of my life. I'm thankful for the experience and the chance to finish the school year with my student, but pleasure of my life? No. However, the last verse, it does make sense. And it is true in many ways.

The stress, the exhaustion,the weight that child had to carry, and therefore that I helped him carry, combined with the talent of the band and the violinist and…well… I cry. The three or four times I’ve heard this, with music blaring and usually the windows down, I’ve let myself really listen to the words and find myself tearing up. And though I feel foolish at the time, I think it’s good my heart hasn’t turned to rock. And I know that this child, with which I spent so many hours over a 200+ school day, will bring a smile to my face any time he crosses my mind…even if it’s not on a Highway 20 ride.
Thanks for reading!

I ride east every other Friday
but if I had it my way
A day would not be wasted on this drive
And I want so bad to hold you
Son there's things I haven't told you
Your mom and me couldn't get along
So I'll driveAnd I'll think about my life
And wonder why, that I'll slowly die inside
Every time I turn that truck around,
right at the Georgia line
and I count the days and the miles back home to you
on that Highway 20 ride

A day might come you'll realize that if you see through my eyes
There was no other way to work it out
And a part of you might hate me
But son please don't mistake me for a man that didn't care at all
And I'll drive
And I'll think about my life
And wonder why, that I'll slowly die inside
Every time I turn that truck around, right at the Georgia line
and I count the days and the miles back home to you
on that Highway 20 ride
So when you drive
And the years go flying by
I hope you smile
If I ever cross your mind
It was a pleasure of my life
And I cherished every time
And my whole worldIt begins and ends with you
On that Highway 20 ride...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZMCkufE0X0

tres at the lake

my brother's dog gus (duckfeet) has become a member of the family and he and our golden retriever tres are like "brothers from another mother." gus has been living with my parents for the last 18 months-ish, and he and tres are inseperable. however, quite different at times. for instance, gus doesn't "work it" for the camera. gus would rather toss a wet tennis ball in your face while you attempt to take his photo. so, in this series of pics, gus was on the other side of the front door because he was ruining my shot, prancing around and slobbering me and the camera with his tennis ball.
at first, i thought tres would never move from whining at the front door and i nearly gave up. but, i nicely said, could you PLEASE sit and pose for this picture of the front porch. he looked over at me, walked to the middle of the porch -but in a perfectly off-center kind of way- and sat. he continued to sit and just bask in his own beauty while i took, oh, 15 different shots. then i gave him a big hug, got some cheese from the fridge, and thanked the dog/model for his time. enjoy!

gus! how'd you get in there man? you have my tennis ball!! open this door!! open this door!!
ugh. that blonde girl is bossing me around again. forget it, girlie. i do what i want, when i want.


alright, alright, i'll sit. i know i'm handsome. and gus is just not opening that door.



ah, give the people what they want. soak it up, baby.

did orvis magazine call yet? i'm sure they will. that blonde girl will handle all my calls, right?

tres the model dog

my parents got tres, their third dog from the same breeder hence the name tres, in september 2008. i was living in washington dc and didn't meet him until they had already had him a few weeks. he was, however, waiting for me at baggage when they picked me up at the airport for a short weekend home.


i haven't really stopped taking pictures of him ever since. and turns out he is quite the ham. i'll prove it to you...

tres is an unusual dog. for one, he has a stripe. the breeder, in 27 years, has never ever had a golden retriever with any sort of birth mark like this. his ears are too big, his feet are the size of a small pony, he sometimes howls, he hisses like a cat when playing tug-of-war, he uses his paws like hands as if he were a bear, he refuses to not be petted and will toss his nose under your hand until he has the attention he wants. he is goofy - pounces on tennis balls and snow piles like a fox, prances like a horse at times, snuggles like he is a lap dog...tres is an unusal dog. my theory? i think he knew we already the ultimate golden retriever in sam, and he would just be playing second fiddle. however, if he is part bloodhound, part bear, part lap dog, all parts goofy quirky and funny, well... he stands out without trying to compare.

i know people are way more important than dogs, but when it comes to dogs, tres is one of my favorites of all time. is it because we're both weirdos and therefore kindred spirits? maybe.

thanks for reading, and on behalf of tres, thanks for looking at photos. woof.

quotes and snail mail and wonderful things

do you love quotes? i do. i even have a journal full of them. two journals, actually, because a wonderful horned frog friend made one for me for additional inspiration.

i got a card in the mail yesterday that said "i heart teachers." a friend saw it, thought of me, wrote some kind words, and tossed it in the mail.

there are days when i think, man, my job is really hard and my work days are too long. there are days when i think he is never going to show up and i'm going to be single forever and have 12 dogs and that will be that. there are days when i think i run too slow, my closet is too messy, and i talk too much.

it is days when i focus on my friends, or the little things, like snail mail and my red teapot and funny pictures of friends, old and new, that i realize life, right now, is good. not in five years, when i'm in a different job or married or live in a cute house with a porch or see my friends more regularly. nope, right now, life is good. not to be taken for granted. not be rushed through or spent thinking about what's in the rearview mirror or what is to come. i have been provided for, and taken care of, not through my own effort or merit. life, right now, is good.

thanks for the card, crossley. thanks for the quote book.

thank you for reading this. thank you for being there, for laughing with me, and at me, and putting up with me. thank you.

"On the road between homes of friends, grass does not grow."

"You can't control the length of your life, but you can control the width and depth." Karl Beth

"It is my friends who have made the story of my life." Helen Keller

And, stuck in my head since I saw Tim McGraw with the outrageously funny Lauren Simpson, steph, tiffany... thought i'd share it for all your music lovers out there. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIj81BJJMQA

"You're on every highway, just beyond the highbeams..."

this is the only card i could find from papersource...i thought it was worhty of posting. haha.

my lovely little chicken/frog/student

i met her last year, through my assistant teacher. in december, the school hired a wonderful woman to be my assistant teacher in prek3. (why she was hired in december is a whole seperate story.) she is wonderful, originally from mexico, beautiful, kind, patient, and i learned from her everyday what it means to go through life with a servant's heart. when we made to-do lists in the morning, she would sign up for anything and everything. i always had to be firm and say, no, really, let me take care of that. you have enough on your plate.

so when my lovely co-teacher's second grade daughter would come visit us last year, i knew something was up when this patient lady would roll her eyes and snap at her daughter's friend. daughter's friend is named, dee, we'll call her. dee brought a new definition to the word hyper. dee would be told things two to three times before they registered, by both her friends and her teachers. when my assistant teacher found out i'd be teaching third grade next year (this year), one of the first things she said was watch out for dee. she is a sweet child, but trouble, as you know. haha. boy, do i know.

dee will always have a special place in my heart. i truly think we'll keep in touch when i'm done with this gig in june. i know that i have gray hairs somewhere on my head from her.

i write today to share a story i've been meaning to post for months, and to share a card from her that she wrote me friday of spring break, and had tears in her eyes when she gave it to me. "i will miss you everyday next week, ms. robinson." through all her tantrums and all my stern conversations, snapping my fingers or whispering in her face, we're tight. she calls me her 2nd mom - I keep detangler in my room and a brush just for her - 3/5 days a week I'm brushing her during the first moments of our daily routine in class.

dee is really a sweet child. very caring, very thoughtful. gives little notes to her peers or pep talks or whatever they need. if someone is having an off day, i assign dee to be their partner at lunch. instantly they're giggling and talking about nonsense (and being far too noisy.) she is a bright, intelligent child and if she harnesses her rambunctiousness, she may very well be president of this country by the time she's done. she is a bullet on the soccer field and remembers almost every detail from every lesson i teach.

i don't understand her mind or how it works. she will be able to swim on a table - lying on her back, all body parts off the ground, swimming her arms in the back of the room, and still shout out correct answers to whatever i'm asking at the front of the room. "Dee!" I will snap. "I have not called on you! Wait your turn to speak. Respect your peers." I think the entire class has that response memorized.

Now that you have the background, allow your mind to enter my classroom in late October. Entering behind you is my Teach for America "PD" - basically mentor/boss even though we are paid by the school. Entering behind her is her boss - a great woman I've known for two years now, but can be quite intimidating for us lowly teachers. Especially those of us who taught prek but now try to survive in third grade. I'm very much a first year all over again.

We're doing a read-aloud, please grab a book and join us. I don't remember the story but I know it was going well. We were reading, stopping to ask questions, make self-to-text or text-to-text connections, dissect vocabulary words, all of it was flowing, and flowing well. I was actually - gasp! - teaching. Some students were on the floor, others in chairs, we looked like a team, I looked like a teacher that maybe had control of the classroom.

Oops, I spoke too soon. Dee does not grasp the concept that her teachers are observed to make sure they're not screwing up her future - she thinks that she is observed. Lightbulbs go off in that brain of hers, and they begin to light the stage on which she will perform.

My lovely Dee, not two minutes after they entered the room, began flipping through her book, ignoring my prompts to stay on the correct page, and swinging upside down in her chair. Move your chair to the back, Dee, you are now in the solution seat. I kept rolling with the lesson. She eventually moved. She put the book under her chair, flipped her feet towards the ceiling, and began to read aloud over my voice. I will call on you when it is your turn, Dee. That is inappropriate. I am moving you down our behavior chart. She didn't care.

It was showtime. Dee closed her book. I silently, without missing much of the lesson, moved the back of the room and opened it. Of course TFA is watching all of this. I walk back to the rest of the students. Dee begins clucking like a chicken. And pecking the ground. And getting louder. And clucking like a chicken, louder. Is she learning? Of course not. Does she seem invested in my class? Of course not. Am I holding her accountable? Not really, I'm trying to teach the other 22 children and ignore the livestock in the back of my classroom. Do all of these things matter to TFA? Of course.

Way to go, Dee. Your performance has ensured that your audience will return.

It's not always that bad, but my, that child is as exhausting as the day is long. And it is loooong.

But I think I've gotten through to her this year. We've had conversations after she was kicked out of music class, that she is hurting that teacher's feelings and I think she's beginning to connect her actions and how other people feel.

Anyways, I'll leave you with the note she left me. I'm framing it, for sure. The best part is, she had pretty sketchy behavior all day, none of which she apologized for, so I think this letter is legit and not just a way to brown nose. Either way, that Dee shaped spot in my heart, it gets bigger everyday.

"I am so lucky to have you as my teacher in 3rd grade. I think you are the nicest techer I have ever had. You are also the nicest techer in all of 3rd grade. I always have fun in our class because ther is so much exitment her I am so happy to have you as a third grade techer thank you.

Sincerely, Dee

the academy awards

i told my roommate stephanie that i feel as if i am finally a grown up. why? because i was too busy this year to watch the oscars. i thought about skipping church but realized that was ridiculous, to stay home from my normal evening church service to watch the red carpet. after church i went for a quick run church, sent a few work emails, and was asleep by 10 pm, ready for an early monday morning alarm clock. well, this past friday night after janet jackson (yes, i said janet jackson, more on that later) i watched some of it on dvr playback, and watched the rest this morning while working on some school stuff.

ah, the oscars. i love movies, i love good actors like natalie portman, jeff bridges, eli wallach, colin firth, sandra bullock, meryl streep, tom hanks.

i know that celebrity magazines and sky high movie ticket prices and overpaid actors and directors are reasons not to love the oscars, but i can't help myself. films have a way of impacting society and telling important stories. (ie look who's coming to dinner. the blindside. last king of scotland. the kings speech.) they are also to be works of art and entertain millions of viewers. (ie E.T. titantic. jerry macquire.)

anyways, yay for the oscars. yay for acceptance speeches and great movies and weird movies and the ability to express yourself. yay for gywenth paltrow singing.

and, if you haven't seen it, rush to your nearest red box as soon as "The Kings Speech" becomes available. Incredible.

public school 22 sings at the oscars!

i first heard about ps 22 from staten island new york when i was at teach for america institute, our "bootcamp" five weeks of training to become... teachers? or something kind of like it.

one sarah burks and i became best friends in a matter of hours when we met at houston institute. through all of our diet coke explosions, runs around rice university (and me getting us lost,) frozen yogurt expeditions, and long conversations on a school bus at 6:30 am, we did actually get some work done. but, when while we were working late into the night, we would send each other different you tube videos we had found. somewhere along the way, we came across ps 22 and their magical musical skills.

this fifth grade chorus from staten island new york is taught by a dynamic teacher (no, he's from not teach for america) and they have numerous you tube songs where they rock out.

i've shown one video to my class, watched it throughout the year for inspiration, and just genuinely think the teacher and his students are super talented year after year.

well, the beautiful anne hathaway brought them to the oscars to sing at the conclusion of the awards ceremony. check it out.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sgPGdkZ8ulM

this is my favorite. viva la vida.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_tcE4rWovI

and an interview with their teacher...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaq7R_N0lQc&NR=1&feature=fvwp

great is thy faithfulness

“If we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot disown himself.” 2 Tim 2:13

“Therefore I have hope, because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness!” Lamentations 3:22,23

Ash Wednesday is probably my favorite church service of the entire year. I know, that’s weird to say, and I do love Christmas Eve with my family, but for me, Ash Wednesday services have always been the marking that my faith is my own – not just of my parents. Not something I inherited or feel obligated to commit to, but something that is wholly my own. My faith would be so different if not for my family and the love of several high school “mentors” whom I would rather call friends.

But the first time I went to an Ash Wednesday service in college I realized that my faith had really become my own – that in a different city, when friends were busy and had night classes or whatever, I was still willing to be the awkard girl alone at a church service. I remember feeling not proud of myself for being there but humbled. Humbled that I knew it was God, the Holy Spirit, however you want to refer to it, which had led me there. Not my own good heart, not my own… anything. I had simply felt the urge to attend this service, and went.

Ash Wednesday has continued to mark my devotion to Christianity as a young adult, struggling to live a life of faith, action, and love. I attended the next year in D.C. – a church I had never attended before but was on Capitol Hill and I figured would be easy to find after work. I’m so glad I went – I can still remember the pastor's face and some of the things she said, three years later.

The following year I was in Paris with Renza Sharpe and we attended a service at an American church near the river there. It was so cool to be overseas, outside of the Bible belt, and still seeking the knowledge and truth of Christ. I remember feeling immensely blessed to have such a great friend like Renz, and the chance to be … in Paris! Neither did I deserve.

Last year, I was back in Houston. I don’t remember where my family members were at the time, but I attended the service at Chapelwood where I grew up solo. It was just like the other Ash Wednesdays I had attended, and yet so different. It was renewing, uneventful, simple, and quite the call to action. A reminder to live my life differently than the world calls us to live.

Last spring was really, really hard. I was struggling daily with my Teach for America commitment, my mom was preparing to have surgery for cancer soon, and life was a bit…unsettled. I knew though, sitting alone in that pew, that God has taken care of me every step of the way, and if I keep my heart open, my mind trusting, I know he will continue to bless me in ways beyond my imagination. And I have a wild imagination!

For me, Ash Wednesday over the past several years, has marked how different my life has been, just as many of my readers I’m sure. But through all of our moves to new cities, the graduation from college (or for some readers, the raising of children and watching them graduate from college) there is the constant, the rock. Someone we can throw questions and anger and joy and worship at… and he remains. constant. I love that Ash Wednesday isn't about gifts or dressing up on Christmas Eve or anything other than fixing our eyes on the cross.

Thanks for reading, and happy Lenten Season!

“A believer in Jesus finds enough in his Lord to satisfy him now and forever more. Place him in a dungeon and he will find fellowship; place him in a barren wilderness and he will “eat the bread of Heaven.” Strap the source of his earthly hopes and his heart will remain fixed, trusting in the Lord.” Charles Spurgeon