Are You a Flower or a Weed?

I have found that in so many professional development classes or meetings since I became a teacher, we have compared teaching to gardening. We talk about putting our students in the right environment so they have the sunshine and soil they need and how we must water them in order to make them grow. The problem with this metaphor is I am not a gardener. I couldn't tell you the difference between a daisy and a daffodil. I have killed every house plant I owned. Given a garden to tend, I'd most likely either drown all the plants or let them all shrivel up and die. I suppose the comparison does work, then, since in both gardening and teaching, I spend most of my time winging it, but it was never my favorite way to think about teaching.

Recently, though, I was reading a book called The Trouble with Goats and Sheep by Joanna Cannon. In one scene of the story, the two young girls are helping a neighbor by pulling weeds in his garden. At one point, one girl comes across something in the garden and she isn't sure if it's a weed or something meant to be in the garden. When she asks the gardener what it is, he says, "It depends very much on whose point of view it is. What's a weed to one person might be a beautiful flower to another. It depends very much on where they're growing and whose eyes it is you're seeing them through."

I have often felt like a weed in my life. People have made me feel unwanted or annoying. I have often been overlooked. On the flip side, friends, family members, and teachers have also made me feel special and beautiful and worth having around, like a flower. It wasn't because I changed and became something else. A flower is a matter of perspective. As a child, I used to love blowing the seeds of dandelions across the yard. I had no idea that spread something that others didn't like. They had this magical quality to me. Did you know "weeds" are often hardier than traditional flowers and end up providing food that helps bees survive when the weather gets bad?

I may not be a gardener. I may not teach lessons at school that provide the right amount of water for growth. I honestly usually have no idea what each flower in my classroom needs. What I do hope is that I provide the right place for them to all be flowers. No matter how much they disrupt a class or fight me or refuse to work, I hope that a student never feels like they don't belong or that I want to pull them out.

Poet Ian Emberson once said that "A weed is a flower in the wrong place." This isn't just a lesson for teachers or kids. This is something I believe affects every single person in the world. If you are feeling like a weed, you may be in the wrong place. Find gardeners (friends, coworkers, significant others) that see your unique beauty. Find an environment where you feel wanted. There are a lot of gardens out there. If you haven't found yours yet, keep searching.

Resolutions for a Happier 2019

Each year, I try to make resolutions for myself. That is what new years are for, right? The problem is mine have become so predictable. I always want to be healthier and have some new calorie counting plan or exercise routine that I won't follow through with. I always want to be more social and tell myself I can alter my personality to meet more people and then am disappointed when I can't. I usually want to be more organized, whether by cleaning more or planning financially or doing lesson plans ahead of time but life isn't organized and I end up riding the chaos.

So...this year, instead of creating the same healthy, social, organized plans I always do, I want to change gears. This year, I just want to work on being content with who I am rather than discouraged about who I am not.

Instead of worrying about the healthiest options...

• I will take more time to eat and enjoy the food in front of me.
• I will cook and bake more often because I LOVE doing that. 
• I will do lots of activities I love like hiking and swimming.
• I will worry more about how I physically feel than the number on any app.

Instead of beating myself up for not being outgoing enough...

• I will respond more naturally, telling people how I feel (good or bad) rather than what I think they want to hear.
• I will laugh without holding back (even if my laugh is too loud). 
• I will join any activity that sounds enjoyable, but not hate myself for saying "no" when it doesn't.

Instead of being so hard on myself for lacking organization....

• I will do my best work until the end of the school day and say "That is good enough", instead of staying hours after the final bell to be better.
• I will take a deep breath every time I lose something or forget something or pay too much for something and say, "This doesn't make me a bad person. What is my next step?" instead of getting down on myself.
• I will clean and organize small spaces whenever I can to feel better, but also not prioritize fixing messes over sleep.

Lighting Other People's Candles

In one of my favorite quotes, Buddha compares happiness to a candle. If that is the case, my candle has been somewhat dim. I'm burning out. My lessons at work are dragging. My energy level at the end of the day is nonexistent. My tolerance for any minor inconvenience is so low. Honestly, I haven't liked the teacher/friend/coworker/sister/daughter I have been over the past month and to all the people in my life reading this, know that I am working on it.

I thought this year would be easier for me to keep my light shining. I have no more grad school work and less work at school. What I have come to realize (very recently) is that writing research papers and learning new curriculum, while mentally tiring, were actually activities that lit my fire. Personal growth is something that I like to and want to continue doing. When I created a new lesson plan or made a new connection in the text, I felt accomplished and my candle sparked a little brighter. Fire-lighting accomplishments don't have to be work or school related. I can create a tasty new recipe or clean something in my house. 

The one thing that doesn't work to keep that candle lit? Trying to take care of everyone else all the time. Let's loop back around to the quote I mentioned at the beginning...

I always thought this quote meant we should always be working to make others happy; that we should strive above all else to light thousands of other candles. After rereading it a few times, though, Buddha never suggests we create fire in others. He suggests we share our happiness. If you've ever lit a candle (I did my fair share of this at church as a child), you know how frustrating and difficult it is to light a candle when your original source isn't a good flame.

So, friends, I'm going to keep working on bolstering up my own flame. I am going to set goals and accomplish things for myself. And as I shine bright, I hope the fire will spread. Thank you for being there even when it's dark.

Quotes from Literature (2010-Now)

It's easy to quote the great authors like Shakespeare, Dickens, Austin, and Twain. They have so many beautiful lines that deserve repeating. But I also think it's unfair to treat modern writers as inferior. I have read some amazing books published in the last 10 years that made me wonder, smile, cry, and reflect. Here's a collection of a few of my favorites....



-“Stop walking through the world looking for confirmation that you don’t belong. You will always find it because you’ve made that your mission. Stop scouring people’s faces for evidence that you’re not enough. You will always find it because you’ve made that your goal. True belonging and self-worth are not goods; we don’t negotiate their value with the world. The truth about who we are lives in our hearts. Our call to courage is to protect our wild heart against constant evaluation, especially our own. No one belongs here more than you.”--Brené Brown, Braving the Wilderness

“Listen. I don't know how or when 
 My grieving will end, but I'm always
 Relearning how to be human again.”--Sherman Alexie, You Don't Have to Say You Love Me

“Teach her that if you criticize X in women but do not criticize X in men, then you do not have a problem with X, you have a problem with women.”--Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Dear Ijeawele

“Maybe there were no villains in my mother’s story at all. Just men and women, trying to do their best by each other. And failing.” --John Boyne, The Heart's Invisible Furies

“If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are.” --Kristin Hannah, The Nightingale

“Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you'll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart.”--Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

 

Confessions of a Child Liar

It was a muggy day in late summer when the sweet lilacs were long dried-up and school was fast-approaching. My dirty bare feet were planted on the hot concrete driveway and my arms were crossed. Every cell of my being steamed with indignity as I glared at my mother's back.

What could cause so much anger from this young girl in a faded Disney t-shirt and butterfly clips in her long hair? As in most cases in battles between parent and child, it all started with the word "No."

"Can I use that?" I had asked minutes ago, as I saw my mom heading toward the lilac bushes, armed with hedge-clippers.

"No, it's too dangerous," she had replied.

Suddenly, any other activity that I had planned for that summer afternoon was pointless. The only thing of importance in the whole, entire world was cutting those branches with that crisp swish and crunch of those giant scissors. And my mom didn't trust me to do it. So, I would pout, and she would know it. Unfortunately, she seemed too worried about cutting branches away from the driveway to notice my superior scowl.

But then, I was sent a miracle. From the house next door, I heard the rattle of the metal front door. My granny calls out to my mother from her front stoop. My mom began to walk toward her, setting down the object of my obsession, those beautiful hedge trimmers with the rubber handles, right there beneath the bushes.

My eyes dashed back and forth between the clippers and my mom, but she didn't seem to notice. She rounded the front of the bushes and disappeared. I stood frozen until I heard the clank of the door closing and then sweet, sweet silence.

I made my move. I ran forward, grabbing the hedge trimmers and started clipping. Swish-crunch. Swish-crunch. This was amazing. Why was I doing chores like cleaning Spaghettios out of the microwave when I could be doing tasks like this instead? It was so satisfying. I wasn't even paying attention to the branches I cut. If there was a branch, it could be cut. It quickly became mindless cutting of anything and everything.

Then, I messed up. Got too cocky perhaps. I went for a bigger branch. I squeezed hard. No satisfying crunch. The clippers lodged halfway in and stopped. I squeezed harder. Nothing. I began to tug back and forth and side to side. I could see the the green innards of this clearly fresh, not-ready-for-trimming branch. Crap. In a panic, I yank the clippers toward me in one strong pull.

Smack. The tip of the clippers hits me smack in the middle of the forehead. I am stunned for a moment. It takes me a minute to calculate what just happened. I look down and for a split second am delighted to see the stubborn branch on the ground. but then I notice the bright red blood covering the metal of the clippers.

You might think this point in the story would involve a lot of screaming, sobbing, or general mayhem. In most cases of bleeding children, that is logical outcome. That's not what happened in this story. I honestly remember absolutely no pain. Instead, my first thought was, "I'm not going down for this. I can fix it."

First, I wiped the blood from the hedge trimmers onto the grass. I carefully placed them back in the exact position I had memorized mom leaving them. Then came the hard part. What would I blame the wound on? I had to find something else sharp and dangerous in the area. Of course there was nothing. Curse my mother for child-proofing our house. Eventually, I settled on the drain spout. The edges were sharp enough to cut open my head, right?

If you were driving on the highway by our house on this given afternoon, you would have witnessed a very strange sight. There, in the front yard of my house, a wannabe-Carrie, with blood trailing down her entire face and dripping onto her shirt, began to catch the blood spurting from her forehead with her hand and dutifully wipe it onto the metal drain spout as if she was finger painting. I never claimed to be a normal child.

Eventually, my mother reappeared from next door and I turned on the theatrics. I sat awkwardly in the dirt to suggest a recent fall and built up from stammering to a loud wail. Although my mother looked extremely confused, I was not reprimanded that day for my act of disobedience...or any other day in fact. But every day when I look in the mirror, I see that tiny notch on my forehead...and remember that maybe I should sometimes take "no" for an answer.

Believe the Pattern, Not the Promises

The title of this post was inspired by what someone I follow recently shared on Instagram, referring to how to avoid unhealthy relationships. I've been thinking about those words for several days. It seems like good advice. Obvious advice even. I think, though, it is very easy to ignore patterns. We would rather believe in potential or promises or apologies. We want to believe in loopholes or exceptions. I am always expecting people to change or grow.

The truth is, sometimes people do change. Sometimes they live up to their promises. Sometimes they really mean it when they apologize. That's what makes it tricky. When those small moments of exception happen, we think we can count on more. Usually we can't. Usually, the friend who cancels on you every week will cancel again. Usually, the guy that doesn't answer your texts will continue to not answer your texts. Your coworker still won't listen to your input. Your boss will still make you feel stupid. Patterns hold.

So, instead of hoping for an incongruity, switch to a better pattern. Be friends with someone who always shows up. Date someone who always make you feel important. Work with people who continue to work with you instead of against you. More than likely, the pattern will hold and you won't be disappointed.

Appreciate Others, Appreciate Yourself

I have long believed one of greatest desires in human nature is the desire to be appreciated. Dissatisfaction at work or in relationships almost always stems from someone feeling unappreciated. Sometimes that feeling pushes us to try harder, hoping to prove our worth in some way. At other times, it causes a total shut-down. We stop giving our best effort to those who don't value it.

Even though we all crave recognition and appreciation in our lives, it can be easy to forget to give it in return. This doesn't just mean saying "thank you." It goes beyond that. Appreciating others means really noticing who in your life is putting forth effort. Who is creating happiness in your world? Who is making your life easier? Tell them! I have gotten a lot better at this since I started teaching at my school. We have a behavior reward system called Panther Paws and when we give these out, we are supposed to give specific praise. The act of doing this each and every day makes me notice and appreciate my students so much more. Today, these are some of the things I told my students:

-Thank you for coming into the room and being prepared. It makes things so much easier and we can get more done.
-I'm so glad you participated in the conversation. I learned something new from you.
-Thank you for writing in full sentences. It makes me feel good when you follow my instructions.
-I appreciate that you always have your work done on time.

This has become a daily routine in my classroom, which transcends out of the classroom as I appreciate my friends who give motivation and encouragement toward my goals or my parents who listen to my problems on the phone or my coworkers that give advice and input on specific assignments.

While it is easy for me to recognize those around me that deserve recognition, it is much more difficult for me to recognize the efforts I put forth myself that deserve appreciation. Out of the options in the first paragraph, I definitely fall in the realm of overworking myself in order to demonstrate my worth.  When I feel unappreciated at work, I tend to blame myself, and assume I'm not doing enough. When I don't feel like friends care, I try to do more for them.

And you want to know something? Working myself to death at work doesn't make me a better teacher. It doesn't earn me any more appreciation. It just makes me tired. Killing myself in order to be liked by other people doesn't help me make more friends or even better friends. I just lowers my self-worth. I used to think that doing whatever others wanted or needed, saying yes to every request, and making an huge effort in every aspect of my life made me a person to be admired, but I think, instead, it's made me lose myself. I appreciate people that are wholly themselves. So that's who I need to be, even if it means walking away from things I'm currently comfortable with.

Many times in my life, people have told me I was loyal. I have always taken this as a compliment. I still do. I think my loyalty to those I love and appreciate is important, but loyalty can't become something unhealthy. I saw this quote today. I don't know who said it, but I felt like it spoke to me on a very personal level:

"Don't let your loyalty become slavery. If they don't appreciate what you bring to the table, let them eat alone."