Semester 1--done!

My first semester is officially complete--grades posted and all!  In less than one week I will again be in a classroom, surrounded by some different seniors and the same sophomores.  I dream of doing things perfectly, of using this new start to be better than I was before, to truly excel.  I hope this zeal to improve will continue through the entire semester and not simply fade away when I get tired.  Prayers would be appreciated. :) 

The Battle of the Droid

"Droid."

The sound came from the midst of my students as I was in the middle of a discussion/lecture about abortion.  I was already giving far too little time to such an important topic, but I had miscalculated with the semester.  As I heard the sound I briefly thought of my nephew and how I had heard that sound come from his phone many times while he was at our house.  Now, though, it was in the middle of my class and school policy was that the phone was now confiscated for a week.  The first time this had happened in my class was on day two of teaching.  My students were looking at me and while part of me questioned if I had heard correctly, the looks on their faces reconfirmed my hearing.

"Alright.  Give me the phone."

Then it happened.  I watched the students, one in particular, lean back in their seats, cross their arms, and give me that smile that aroused every stubborn fiber in my body.  Suddenly it was them against me.  They were unwilling to give up the phone and they wondered how I would get it from them.  It was an implicit challenge.  I'm not entirely certain what their perception of me is, but they didn't think that I was as stubborn as I turned out to be.

"Come on.  Just give me the phone."  I waited, letting the silence extend, showing them that I wasn't just going to brush off this incident.  The students began to look at each other.

"OK.  If you don't give me the phone, I'm just going to have to check your bags to see who else has their phones."  They didn't look very perturbed, but after a while longer they began to tell me that it wasn't their phone, that they didn't have a Droid, that their phone was off/in their locker.  As time continued, though, the individual with the offensive phone didn't come forward.  I was remembering what I had overheard other students say about phones going off in other classes and how when they simply sat there and didn't give it up, they left the classroom at the end of the period with the teacher simply saying that what they did was very rude.  Rude, perhaps, but that didn't bother them too much when they all still had their phones at the end of the class.  I decided that I wouldn't be one of them.

"You're right--I'm not going to check your bags.  But if I don't get the phone that went off, then you all have detentions."  Their faces changed a little bit with that.  It wasn't that I wanted to give them all detentions (they would be my first of my career) but I figured that would be enough of an incentive for the person to come forward.  Who would be willing to give the entire class a detention simply so they could keep their phone?  In my mind, it would be a few moments before I would have the phone in my hand and class could carry on as it should.  A couple of the girls were uncomfortable with the situation, as displayed by their red faces.  When a couple of the boys found out that these girls had never had detentions, they riled the class to take the detention. 

"Guys, let's take it!"  "Yeah, its just a study hall in the morning!"  "We can talk with Mr.--- about bringing donuts tomorrow!"  Their excitement wasn't what I expected or wanted.  I didn't desire them to be miserable, but I was hoping the peer pressure would make the person step forward and surrender the phone. 

That didn't happen.  Instead, I waited for them to give me the phone.  When I pressed them more for the phone, one student got up and handed me his phone, telling me to just take it.  I knew it wasn't his and although it was an act of valor, I was unwilling to allow that one person to avoid punishment simply because a classmate of his was sacrificial.  With the one phone stowed in my podium, I told them that I wasn't going to waste any more class time over this but that if I didn't have the phone by the end of class then they would all have detentions.  And then I continued with class.  I ended five minutes early, on accident, but I thought it would be a good time for them to think about it and then give me the phone.  Perhaps they thought I had issued a simple harmless threat, but I fully intended to give them what I said I would.  No, I didn't want to give them a detention, but I wanted to be true to my word and I wanted them to know that I meant what I said and should be taken seriously.  When the bell rang, they all walked out and I never got the phone.  I was amazed that the person never came forward and that the class didn't pressure them to do so.  While I didn't want them to rat the person out, I was hoping that the disgruntled class would impel the person to honesty.

I didn't think I was over-reacting.    After e-mailing the principal the list of people in the class, I waited for him to come and talk to me.  Somehow, I knew he wouldn't like that I had given all twenty-four people a detention, but I thought I had sufficient reasons.  He came just before my third period class and asked if I could locate the area of the room the sound came from.  Over the next couple periods he called discreetly into his office a couple trustworthy people in the class to ascertain who let their phone go off.  By fifth period he came and told me who it was and their punishment.  What I didn't altogether expect was that the rest of the class would no longer have detentions.  A student came and asked me at the end of the day if the detentions still stood and I told him that as far as I was concerned, they did.  I had said I needed the phone by the end of the class and since that hadn't happened, I intended for the consequences to stand.  The next morning a had a couple visits from the administration explaining to me why they did what they did and how to handle a situation like this in the future.  I understood where they were coming from, but I still think my method was better.  I heard from several people that my students were complaining about the detention for the rest of the day.  By the time 8th period walked in on that same day, they were smirking and saying, "Droid" and laughing about the incident.  I wasn't offended.  Now they knew I was serious and that I meant what I said.  Too many high school teachers of mine made empty threats that nobody listened to because they knew they would never follow through.  I was determined to not be one of them.

In an e-mail to a parent, I told them that one thing I desired the students to learn from this was that they are an individual belonging to a community and what they do as individuals does affect the rest of the community.  So perhaps it was one person's phone that went off.  The rest of them were complicit in the act by not speaking up or encouraging the person to be honest.  Whether or not that explanation was sufficient, I don't know.  But it makes sense to me.

And that, dear readers, is the story of how this young teacher gave twenty-four detentions in one class period and had them all overturned within twenty-four hours. 

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh.  Blessed be the name of the Lord!   

Just that kind of week...

Last week was just one of those weeks.  The kind where I gave a detention to the entire class that doesn't really care for me, only to have it revoked by the administration.  The kind where I walked around feeling dumb for doing what I did, yet not regretting it in the slightest.  The kind where I felt like a first year teacher with no experience and little knowledge.  Where I felt like I was doing absolutely everything wrong and I wondered why God placed me in this job.

This week was just one of those weeks.  The kind where I successfully complete my first semester of high school teaching (minus grading the final exams).  The kind where a veteran teacher said, "Good for you" for giving the entire class a detention when they wouldn't hand over the phone that had gone off in class.  The kind where a senior thanked me for teaching them and told me that he had learned more in my class than in any other theology class thus far.  The kind where I made bon-bons for my classes.  The kind where I felt that I wasn't doing absolutely everything wrong.

Praise the Lord. 

A Challenge? Very well, I accept!

"When the Son of Man comes to earth, do you think he will find faith in men's hearts?"

This line always evokes conflicting emotions within my heart.  I am filled with the realization that faith seems to be dwindling among people--I see it in the media, my family, my students, and my own heart.  Faith seems to be that elusive thing that people desire yet which we also run from.  However, while my heart is grieving about the loss of faith, it also attunes itself to the implicit challenge that is embodied in that statement.  I am competitive.  You probably wouldn't discover that from people who only casually know me, but from those who are closer to me, they would probably roll their eyes at my ridiculous, insignificant challenges and competitions that I try to evoke.  I just like to win.  The challenge found in this statement seems obvious--I want to prove them wrong.  Faith will be found within the hearts of mankind.  The Second Coming can be millenia away, but there will be a faithful remnant.  This remnant will be purified by persecution and grounded in sacrificial love, but it will remain.  The gauntlet is thrown down and I accept the challenge.  My life should be spent in the quest to ensure that faith will remain within the hearts of men.

Lord, we will believe.  Come what may, we will still believe.  We need your strength and your grace, but we will remain faithful.  We will fall, but we will still believe.  When I think of the alternative, that Christ will come again and there will be no faith on earth, I stop the image and declare internally with a firmer resolve, that it will never happen.

Maranatha...Come, Lord Jesus! 

Sacrificial Love

The headlines and news broadcasts are filled with images of the families and friends of those affected in Newtown, CT.  This is one of those instances when the media and technology is both a grace and a curse.  How wonderful to know that people around the nation and world are joining together in prayer for a community most people have never been to or even heard about prior to this past Friday.  Yet the images and constant replaying of the stories leads one to wonder if this is all done truly out of compassion or perhaps out of a desire to have a big news story and our insatiable desire for excitement.  When is a breaking news story shared because of a desire to enlighten others and when is it the desire to be the first to hit the airwaves with the shocking news?  I wonder at times if we aren't simply living from one drama to the next. 

I saw this not to downplay or dismiss the losses felt by those in Newtown, but simply to re-evaluate our constant desire to know more about it.  I, too, have watched news fragments on the Internet and desired to weep over what was being shown.  There is something about the death of the innocent that evokes strong feelings within each person.  It is a greater sense of injustice, a greater wrong has been perpetrated.  The grief we feel would be of a different caliber had the victims all been adults.  But when we see the ages of 6 and 7, we rightly feel that justice was not done.  Every time something like this happens, I internally link it back to abortion.  Not because I want to diminish the tragedy and say, "Something bad happens every day, get over it."  Far from it.  I desire to simply say, "Yes, this is a tragedy.  But there is another tragedy that doesn't get the news coverage, that doesn't get the recognition it deserves because it is considered to be a 'hot button' issue and that people have conflicting feelings about it.  Or because it is a choice.  That is a tragedy that we should all be weeping over."  The death of the innocent does evoke a heartache in us that speaks to our very desire to defend that which is weak and vulnerable.  Rightfully so.  But let us not forget the accepted deaths that occur daily.  Let not familiarity breed apathy.  We hear about abortion and so we are accustomed to the horrors of it.  Yes, it is bad, but could it truly ever be stopped?  I don't think that is the important issue, really.  Each parent would greatly desire one more of those children to be spared, even if the child was not their own.  As such, I desire for each child that is being carried into the abortion clinic to be spared, to be carried out once again, living in the womb of his mother.

As a teacher, I find it especially touching to hear the stories of the teachers who sacrificed their lives or put themselves in harms way for the sake of their students.  It makes me wonder if I would have the same resolve.  My students had asked me about the morality of a very hypothetical situation over a month ago.  I had been telling them that it was wrong for the biblical Saul to commit suicide and that while we can never judge the fate of one who committed suicide, that the act is always intrinsically wrong.  Being sophomores, they wanted to find a circumstance in which it would be acceptable.  Who better to put on the stake then their teacher?  So the situation went as follows: say a person came in with a gun and said that either I killed myself or he would kill all of my students.  They looked at me, thinking that they had stumped me. 

"Which one would you pick?  Would you sacrifice yourself for us or would you just watch us all be killed?"

They thought I had to choose one of their options.  I was firmly convinced that there were other ways that they had not thought of.  So I presented my "game plan" to them, should this event ever actually take place in real life.  I said that I would throw myself at the man--knowing that I would die--but that when I did that, all of the men in the classroom were to jump up and charge him also.  They seemed a little surprised by my response, and while I wasn't, I was left wondering if this was really a matter to be discussed with my students.  A while after I heard about the Newtown murders, I re-thought what I had told them and decided that I wouldn't really alter anything I had said.  The vastly hypothetical situation seemed a little less out there and closer to home.  I thought about how I would be shaking and terrified, but I prayed that God would give me the necessary strength, should something like this actually happen.

Perhaps this is inappropriate to put in a post that also speaks about Newtown, but I don't think it is.  I often refer to my students as "my kids" even though I know they aren't really kids, but they do feel in a way like they are mine.  They may never know the affection I harbor for them, even the ones that also drive me up the wall.  For the most part, I can never tell them I love them, because they would never take it as seriously or as deeply as I mean it.  They are each too deep to know in such a short amount of time, yet I feel like I know quite a bit about them, simply from their behavior and class work. 

From the fragments of this blog, perhaps what can be redeemed is this fact: that the ultimate sacrifice is never made without smaller, seemingly insignificant sacrifices made prior to it.  The sacrifices would largely be chalked up to "my job" by most of my students and those around me.  But I think there is something deeper involved.  I do not claim to be the best teacher or the most sacrificial.  Yet I think that despite the incongruent images, spending two hours to make bon-bons for my seniors, staying in my classroom until the sun has gone down again, listening to their stories and ramblings, grading their countless assignments, and taking them in prayer to nearly every Mass I've been to since I got the job--all of these will be the tiny sacrifices that make it possible for me to make the "ultimate sacrifice" should it be required of me.  Sacrifices like these and the ones many other teachers make will generally not gain the headline on the newspaper, but they are what makes it possible for one to lay down one's life for a friend. 

May God grant peace to those who have died, peace to those who survive, and peace in our hearts and the entire world.  May He also grant us the grace to sacrifice, regardless of the personal cost.     

Rule #1: Be Controversial

Sometimes when I really think about the "controversial" issues of today, I am completely baffled by the fact that they are controversial.  Society has made these issues into emotional issues and situations that prevent one from really looking at the truth objectively.  I find it interesting that my high school students have been almost more instrumental in my grasping the extent of society's depravity than the past eight years of college and high school.  My students are not depraved but they give me a window into the mind of society.  And I find it to be quite frightening.  I am realizing, as I told a friend a week ago, that I wasn't the typical high schooler.  As I speak to my students I waver between feeling as though we are in the same generation and then thinking that we are in completely different generations.  But, to be honest, I often feel that I am in the wrong era altogether and that I would have fit rather nicely into the 1800s. 

My viewpoint into the culture made me slightly frantic this week.  If my students, who attend a Catholic high school in a rather conservative state with typically traditional values, seem this affected by the culture, I was quick to bemoan the fate of the entire world.  Especially after listening to their defense of their opinions, I was convinced that we, as a society, do not understand truth.  My students aren't stupid and they don't seem to hold beliefs that they think are radical.  There is also an interesting mixture within most of them, they don't exactly buy the Church's teaching on human sexuality (for example) but they appear open to know more about it.  This doesn't mean they come off as accepting of it, rather they appear to be skeptical of anything the Church says that doesn't mesh with society.  Yet many of them are hesitant to say they flat out disagree with the Church's teaching.  These opinions provide an interesting blend of hope and despair for me.  I have come again and again to the realization that I do not know how to accurately convey my beliefs or the Church's teaching to them.  I accept what the Church teaches but I cannot properly show them how this should impact their beliefs.  Multiple times this past week I have felt acutely the limitations of my abilities and knowledge.

What do you do with a society that makes truth seem bigoted and intolerant?  How do you present a truth that is immediately labeled as hate speech or offensive?  The truth is remarkably offensive.  Don't believe me?  Take a quick look at the videos below. 

The original TV clip

His defense of "hate speech"

The Media Portrayal

Why does this continue to surprise me?  Perhaps because our culture is very good at pinning "radical" and "extreme" to things that are simply not in line with the secular media.  If you say things often enough and loud enough, people will begin to think that they are true.  So when you begin to speak the Truth, be it ever so softly and charitably, it comes off as cruel and unjust. 

"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you!  How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!  Behold, your house is forsaken and desolate." --Mt. 23: 37-38

It lead me to wonder how one could possibly win.  Not because I am making the transformation of a culture into a competition, but because it seems that the odds are so against the truth.  Even the fact that when the Church teaches the truth it doesn't make any head-way in many modern minds, points to a culture so "open-minded" that it is closed off to truth.  Modern progress seems to be running full speed away from everything good, true, and beautiful.  And the issues that seem to be the most fundamental--marriage, families, life, and the human person--are the most attacked now. 

"It is true that I am of an older fashion; much that I love has been destroyed or sent into exile." -G.K. Chesterton

Perhaps I should have been more encouraging when one of my students asked what we should do when the whole of society seems to be opposed to what the Church is teaching.  I told him that we need to be prepared to be martyrs for the truth.  That we will be at least verbally mocked and crucified is seeming to be a closer and closer reality.  It is not something that will take place when I am old and gray but is gradually sweeping society right now.  The hope in this is that Our Lord knows all of this.  And the times of greatest persecution and evil are the very times when He raises up the greatest of saints.  They give hope and inspiration that standing with the truth is something that is only fully rewarded in Heaven.  As for now, we are the Church militant, battling anything contrary to that which is true.  Not just "true" by our standards, but is actually and objectively Truth.

"Strive even to death for truth and the Lord God will fight for you." --Sirach 4:28

This causes me to think of the book of Daniel with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  Like them, we should refuse to serve the gods that society worships and refuse to conform our lives to the tune that is being played.  Instead, even in the midst of the flames of persecution we should bless the Lord.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his mercy endures for ever."

What is the main idea?

After spending hours working on a semester final for my sophomores with a fellow teacher, I was drained and ready for sleep.  We had spent all of this time trying to create the perfect final--the perfect blend of justice and mercy.  Our administration had instructed us to create higher level thinking questions and steer away from simple memorization.  The intention of the test was not to fail them all or make them have a heart attack but to help them wrap their arms around the semester.  And by writing the final, it helped me do the same.  We were constantly asking the question, "What is the main idea of this section?  If they forget everything else, what should they know about this?"  It was difficult to figure it out at times as we balanced desiring them to know the whole Bible and then honing in on what we saw as the main points.  In the end, it helped us to focus on what is more important.  The details seemed to matter less, some random Babylonian king's name didn't need to be recalled, and the class was, hopefully, boiled down to what they should absolutely know.  Was it more important for them to know what each of the Egyptian gods symbolized or that the plagues were a judgment on the gods themselves?  Was it crucial to know who the first king of Israel was or would it be better to know which king God made a covenant with?  The task was difficult because we kept desiring to hold onto these little details, sometimes at the expense of the larger idea.

On the drive home, I had an epiphany.  So often I get caught up in the little details of life, the mistakes and the missteps and forget about the main idea.  How much easier I could make my life if I went through it trying to remember, "What is the main idea?"  If instead of agonizing over the little aspects and focused on the main idea, the goal behind my life (to go to Heaven and be with God for eternity), how much simpler everything would seem.  It will be a struggle to wrap my mind around that and I will be need to be constantly made away of what really matters.  But it seems to me a good practice to develop, if I have but the stamina to do so.  Embrace the little details of life, wrap my mind around it all, and then surrendering it all to the Lord asking Him, "What is the main idea?"

Reminders

Some days I simply need to remind myself:

1) I cannot convert my own heart, let alone the hearts of my students.
2) They are not mine; I must give them to the Lord because only He can do what is needed.
3) I am flawed and in need of conversion, too.

"We have to go to Mass twice this weekend??!?"

It was third period when I realized that simply telling my students that tomorrow was a holy day of obligation wasn't about to penetrate their beloved, thick skulls.  That is when I proceeded to write nearly every church in town on the board, personally look up their special Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception Mass times, and then give a spiel about this feast at the beginning of each class.  It caused me to realize something is very wrong with our list of priorities. 

Well, I more mean "their" priorities about this matter, but rest assured, mine are mixed up in simply a different way.  They told me that they couldn't go to Mass because they had: a basketball game, play, work, anything and everything proved to be a valid excuse.  Some of their situations did sound like they would be difficult to navigate.  However, it struck me as sadly stereotypical of Americans when they began to ask if there was a specific Mass time as if they were picking which time to go to a movie.  Their schedules didn't have time for Mass and it didn't seem to be within the realm of possibilities for them to re-evaluate their schedules or perhaps forgo something.  The look of shock on their faces would have been surprising if I told them to skip their basketball game or miss set-up for play. 

"We have commitments."  You are absolutely right.  You have a commitment to Christ and to follow His laws.  The Church is asking for you to go and receive Jesus, not give half of your wealth away tonight.  "What if we are going out of town?"  I responded with, "There are also churches out of town."  After a brief reminder of the beauty of the universality of the Catholic Church we were moving onto other questions.  I told them that failure to attend Mass for both the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception and Sunday obligation would be a mortal sin.  I was mildly surprised by the look of shock and surprise on their faces.  Mortal sin?  Mortal sin? "Isn't that the really bad one?  Like if you kill someone?"  In their minds this sin of missing mass is, well, they might not actually think of it as a sin.  It just doesn't fit conveniently into their schedules and so they shouldn't be burdened with trying to find a Mass.  These little incidents convinced me that we do not talk enough about sin.  I'm not evn certain they knew that it is a mortal sin to miss Mass any given Sunday. 

And I think to myself: what is the point of sending your children to Catholic schools if you don't care to encourage that Catholic identity within them?  My students began to ask, in an almost accusatory fashion, why the school didn't have Mass for them today to satisfy the obligation.  Code for: "Why must we now go out of our way to go to Mass?  Shouldn't our Catholic school take care of that for us?"  Yes, I am probably leaning more into a rant now, but I think it is partially justified.  My seniors told me that they don't think they have a spiritual battle going on right now because they go to Catholic school but later it will be a battle.  Yet when I gave them the hypothetical situation of a student who would go to daily Mass, adoration, and ask people to pray with them, they all agreed that the person should lay off the religion and be normal.  Then I told them that they are the ones who form the Catholic identity of the school.  I think I sounded rather brilliant and filled with passion, how I actually appeared to them, I don't know.  But I did think it was important to remind them that they help determine how Catholic their school is.  

So, perhaps, I can shakily derive some sort of point from this jumble.  The priorities of our nation, of our world are nearly in shambles and are in dire need of alteration.  We no longer even feel a sense of duty to follow the set rules or requirements (if you want to look at them that way) of our religion.  Not that I endorse living under a feeling of guilt, but the "Catholic guilt" seems to be giving way to the pressures of secularism.  People don't go to Mass on Sundays simply out of a feeling of duty, rather, they cease to go at all and don't feel bad about it.  Perhaps this is where the crux of the moral problem is--we are simultaneously a society that is perpetually offended and yet one that doesn't care at all. 

Hope?  Yes, I know I should end on a note of hope because there are a great number of movements within the Church that are reaching out and transforming society.  Despite the lackadaisical attitudes of many in society, there is good news and there is hope.  The Church is undergoing a purification.  The Spirit is moving and lives are being changed.  While I know my circle of friends and acquaintances might not be the measure of the average young adult, I have been encouraged by the number of religious vocations I know are being sought after and the young couples entering into matrimony.  Particularly the numerous couples I have heard who are now welcoming into their families children, even if they have been married for less than a year when the child is born.  Good things are happening.  I must remind my naturally pessimistic mind that.  Greater things are yet to come, greater things are still to be done in this...world.      

If only I was "The Giver"...

Sometimes I wish I wasn't a teacher so much as "The Giver."  Instead of hoping they will be open to what I have to say or open to a new experience, I want to give them something.  And I don't want them to have the option to say no.  I suppose this is one of the reasons that if I was God, I would have done things remarkably different.  I wouldn't have done them nearly as well, of course, but as a selfish human being I would make a selfish god.  I wouldn't let people choose to love me or reject me.  I wouldn't offer my very self only to have it pushed back in my face.  When I offer a mere piece of my heart to someone, be it a student or otherwise, and I feel it is rejected or not fully appreciated, I pull back and desire to not surrender any soft part of my heart to anyone.  My love is still very self-centered, still very egocentric, and feeling motivated.  I would want to force people to acknowledge my greatness as they should.  We should all thank God that I am not Him.

Even on behalf of God I desire to be "The Giver" and not simply allow free will be operative in the lives of my students.  Today I told my five classes that part of class tomorrow would be spent in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.  For at least 15 minutes in each class, we will be before Jesus.  I know I am not naturally a very emotive person and so I purposefully over-emphasized my joy so that they could see how excited I was.  The looks on their faces varied from amusement at my obvious enthusiasm to dismay at the prospect of suffering through mandatory adoration. 

I was not so naive as to assume that every student of mine would leap for joy at the prospect of spending 15 minutes in the chapel tomorrow.  While I know some of my students are glad for the occasion, the general feel of nearly every class was a picture of unwilling surrender.  They aren't excited for tomorrow but it is a necessary consequence of going to a Catholic school.  They must suffer unwillingly through monthly mandatory Masses, morning prayer over the intercom, dress code, Theology classes, and bi-annual adoration time and Reconciliation services.  Accepting that the system will not change for them, they are resolved to not reveal any joy that might betray their distaste for the religion that is forced upon them.  Yes, that is an exaggeration for some of the students, but, unfortunately, not for a sizable faction.  Some students will write that they wish they weren't forced to take Theology classes or go to Mass every month and I wonder to myself what they thought Catholic school should be like.  If I was to ask them, the undesired answer might be, "Nonexistent."

So as I tried to share my joy with my students, I also spent some time talking to them about why they dislike adoration or why they find it difficult/boring.  The answers I received weren't altogether surprising but they did reveal an aspect of the culture that I find extremely troubling.  Among the top contenders for the most popular reasons why adoration isn't a wonderful prospect is that their minds wander, they can't think of what they should do, and it is boring.  However, the response that seemed to draw the most agreement was that they don't like the silence and they find it awkward.  For 15 minutes they are asked to sit silently and pray.  I do not think the silence is so difficult because they long to talk to their friends, although that is certainly a temptation for them.  I believe the silence is so difficult because they are completely unaccustomed to it.  That is troubling.  We have an entire generation, an entire world that is inundating itself with so much noise and busyness that a few minutes of silence is awkward and difficult.  No wonder they ask me why they can't hear God speak to them or why they don't think God is listening to them.  They haven't even paused to listen.  To really listen.  Because when I tell them they need to be quiet and listen to the Lord, they stop to do it for a minute but then any time beyond that seems superfluous.  One of my students said that adoration didn't need to be so long, that he could say everything he needed to in about a minute.

I don't have the time, it seems, to teach them this silence.  I, the introverted melancholic that I am who loves silence and solitude, cannot give them the joy of stopping and being still that I am blessed enough to have.  That is why I desire to be "The Giver" and simply bestow it upon them.  So that they may simply experience what it is that I mean and not just hear about it.  I want to make them see what adoration can be like if they allow themselves to be still.  While I can still their bodies and mouths, for the most part, I cannot reach in and still their minds and souls.  They can spend 15 minutes running from the Lord's graces while I spend that same time praying for their hearts to be open.  Yes, I would override their free will and make them accept the Lord's graces into their lives.  Ah, but there is the problem---would I mandate love for Love?  How much greater is the joy when a student, like a little rosebud, begins to open up to the truth that he is hearing and develops a greater desire for that life-giving truth.

While I cannot make them acknowledge the God who loves them so radically, I can continue to present the Truth to them.  And I can continue to grow in how I present this truth so as to make it more appealing and more palatable to their 21st century tastes.  How much this teacher has to learn!  I cannot give them the experience of peace in the arms of Our Lord, this is true.  However, I can give them my prayers through Our Lady and Our Lord.  And those, my friends, they cannot refuse.         

The Beauty of Not-New Friends

This week I had the privilege of being able to speak to a couple friends I hadn't in a while.  As we were talking on the phone I realized how much I love friendships that are already formed.  Teaching has put me into contact with many new and wonderful people but making friends isn't exactly my strong point.  I would much rather be with close old friends than off forming new relationships.  So as I spoke to my friends I was reminded of the joy of friendships that are already grounded, that I don't need to put so much effort into because they just come naturally.  One of my conversations in particular was very good and I loved that despite the months of not talking, we were able to talk and talk with ease. 

One of the ways the Lord loves me is through friends like these.  Although I wish the love would be made evident by utterly surrounding me with these friends instead of having them be a phone call away, I am deeply indebted for the ways He touches my heart through others.  It teaches me to cherish these friendships and to not take that gift for granted.

Beautiful Son

Nearly every morning on the thirty minute drive to school, Jesus graces me with the beauty of a sunrise.  It is one of the things that makes the early morning drive a time of repeated wonder and awe.  As someone who is not naturally a morning person, these sunrises are little rewards that God gives me for waking up early.  I am thankful for them, even as I tell Our Lord that I love His sunrises, I just wish I didn't have to see so many of them! 

The other day as I was driving and gazing at the gorgeous sunrise filled with hues that are impossible to describe, I was wondering if everyone else saw this sunrise with the same awe that I did.  The deep rose horizon was seamlessly blended into peach rays of light what showered the plains with life and light.  Every day was a new canvas to be filled with the genius of the Almighty and I wondered if every other car on the road saw the sunrise as I did.  Or did they just drive passed the beauty of it, too consumed in their own thoughts? 

For some reason this led me to think of Italy and Europe in general.  I spent a semester studying in Austria and traveling around Europe.  My experience there was one of continual amazement at all that the Lord creates and does.  It was three months of pure beauty.  In my mind, the people of Europe could never get bored with the magnificent architecture that surrounds them, or the glories of the European countryside which must in its very essence be more romantic than my homeland, or the antiquity that surrounds every step in Europe.  I realized during this morning drive that perhaps Europeans did not look at their countries with the same romantic idealism that I did.  Perhaps they do see a sunset at Cinque Terra and aren't filled with awe and wonder at the immensity of God's beauty. 

As I gazed across the Midwestern plains and the early morning sunrise, I thought about how this is one of the most beautiful places on earth.  The rolling plains spreading out lazily to the horizon, allowing one to see for miles and drink in the openness of the earth.  Sunlight kissing the barren trees and setting the world on fire with the dawn of another day.  Little pieces of Heaven if one but has the eyes to see them.  What a gift to experience such beauty, given so freely from the One who loves me best.

And if that is what God can do with mere clouds and light, imagine what He can do with beings made in His own image and likeness.  What immense beauty we could find there.

Testing....1, 2, 3....

Teachers have feelings.  Perhaps that shouldn't be a surprise, but it wasn't until I was a teacher (which began a whole 3ish months ago) that I realized how true that is.  Teachers have feelings.  Teachers do notice when that student is being disrespectful in the most annoyingly non-verbal way possible.  They do feel the slight when the student will hardly look at them for some unknown reason or slight.  And teachers do feel the greatness of the small compliments from students. 

Yesterday I gave a test to my seniors.  The overall feeling emanating from them was one of complete dissatisfaction and annoyance.  Well, perhaps not complete, but it was highly prevalent.  What was even more mystifying was how when I was creating this test I was intentionally trying to be as easy as I could possibly bring myself to be, which granted isn't perhaps easy but I did feel as though I was giving them a helping hand.  Yes, I made the test a bit too long, but I gave them a word bank with only the words for the questions and all the words were used only once.  I thought I was going to feel so good grading a lot of wonderful tests and watching their slightly sagging grades be buoyed up by the test.  Yes...my high idealistic tendencies were quickly deflated as I watch a student look through his test and repeatedly shake his head at the test.  It was then at 8:25 am that I realized that perhaps this test wasn't quite the piece of cake I envisioned it to be.  Nevertheless, I read through the test again and was reassured of my goodness.  This class doesn't particularly like me so I can chalk it up to the fact that whatever I do will be ridiculous to them. 

By the time the final class of the day rolled around, the students had heard of the "impossible" test that I had given and how "nobody finished" before the bell.  So as my 8th period students muddled through the test, I began to type an e-mail to a fellow teacher to ask her what to do when I think I made my test too difficult.  As I was thinking of how to describe the situation after the bell rang and students were still finishing their test, a student turned in his test and quietly said, "I didn't think it was that hard."  It was my saving grace for the moment.  It reaffirmed my convictions that I wasn't being ridiculous.  And I wished that I could give him a hug or tell him just how much that meant to me at that particular moment.  Instead all I said was, "Oh?  Good." 

I know that my happiness and sadness cannot rest on the students or ride on what they think of me or what the hormones racing through their bodies are influencing them to do.  But I am realizing that just because I became a teacher doesn't mean that I am magically transformed into an adult who can handle adolescent attitude with ease or knows how to pen perfect length tests.  Too often I am convinced that when I get to a certain point I will be radically different than I am now, that I will have it all together.  As a middle schooler I thought that would happen in high school.  In high school, I was convinced I would become the person I dreamed of being in college.  And, well, now I suppose I fall into the idea that as soon as I meet Mr. Wonderful and we fall in love and are married and have nine children and one on the way that then I will be exactly the person I am to be.  The truth is that I am constantly being transformed and being made into the person I need to be.  We are all works in progress.  But my idealistic view of myself may never really come into being because perhaps that creation of my imagination is not the person that God even desires to exist.  What a pity it would be to spend all of my time racing after an image that is created in my own mind and not striving to become the person of God's own design.

So their test, by their standards, was long and hard, an impossible task that couldn't be completed and one they didn't really want to.  Perhaps that is a bit like life.  At times life seems to be a journey that is impossible to do correctly and one that seems to provide more challenges than seems right.  Yet maybe if we strove to not be so focused on the present crisis that seems to be making our world collapse and more on the overall picture of what God is doing in our lives, than we would be able to face our difficulties with the knowledge that just over the hill is rest, that on the journey we are strengthened with grace. 

Now that I think about it, my test wasn't so similar to life.  Because with life we have the tremendous benefit of having an Omniscient God who loves us entirely, knows exactly what we need, and provides us inestimable aid along the way.  So perhaps this imperfect little teacher made a mistake.  The good news is that the Divine Teacher never does.

being balanced

As I was going to spend some time with friends from high school that I don't see often, the Lord seemed to place a prayer on my lips of which I didn't realize the depth until I had spoken it aloud in the car. 

"Lord, help me not to compromise myself simply to fit in.  Yet help me not emphasize my differences so as to stand out."

Letting one's light shine is a balancing act in itself.  I don't want it to be a mere flicker that will die out soon, yet I don't want it to be a spotlight that seeks to highlight everyone's faults.  I'm seeking for balance without falling into mediocrity.

I'm in love...

I am in love with the most beautiful and brilliant person.  He loves me beyond my deserving and pursues my heart with all the tenderness of a Lover.  In the morning He graces me with a glorious sunrise and in the evening He makes the western skies so filled with vivid colors that I am in danger of running into the car in front of me on my way to Mass.  Then He embraces me in the warmth of the adoration chapel, whispering to my heart about the joys of being a member of the living Church, the Body of Christ.  He stills my mind with its many worries and concerns, drawing me into His very heart.  Then He lays down His life for me and offers me the best He has to offer, His very self.  My Love proceeds to sit with me, knowing that quality time is the way to love me best.  He has all of the time in the world for me.  In fact, He has beyond time--He has a timeless love that He strives to impart to me.  Soothing my fretting heart, consoling my desirous heart, wrapping me in His mantle of palpable divine love, He makes me long for forever with Him.  And Lover that He is, He stitches stars into the night sky for me to admire on my drive home.  I am in love with the most beautiful and brilliant person ever.  He has written His name on my heart--and it is Love.

Beyond Grades

Teaching is an interesting profession.  What I do is primarily judged by test and quiz scores and the single letter marked down on the transcripts of my students.  People come in to my classroom to observe me and see how well I teach.  But the interesting thing is that the heart of what I do, the depth of the relationship I have with some of my classes is witnessed only by myself.  When that observer enters the room, the mood changes and it is no longer the relationship that has been steadily forming.  That single letter inscribed on a transcript is not observant of the laughter that has been shared, the hours spent together, the prayers uttered to God on their behalf.  I do not teach perfectly and I do not know all of my students very well.  Yet there is this delightful feeling when I remember laughing with my classes even if I cannot remember what we were laughing about.  Maybe they forget far quicker than I do but I am still repeatedly amazed about what people refer to as my "job".  I get to see over one hundred students every day and try to give to them part of the love that I have for the Lord.  And every day I mess up, yet every day is a new day to try again.  Nobody but the Lord can really see what I do or judge how effectively I do it.  Because I like to think that I am revealing to them something that I cannot test them on.  I prefer to think that the joy we share (at times) in the classroom is indicative of something deeper.  And I pray that someday I will be blessed enough to see the fruit of my labors, even if that day only comes in Heaven.

Entering the Mission Field

I never realized how controversial the simple truth could be until I stepped foot into my classroom.  Prior to this I knew in theory that some truths people didn't like but I was awakened to a whole new realm of this in one of my classes.  The truth is offensive.  I told my students that the Catholic Church had the fullness of the Truth and I didn't expect the firestorm that would follow.  It wasn't always a verbal defense that they provided but I could tell that they were mad at me or mad at the Church.  And I'm not certain if I ever really solved the problem.  Because I am realizing more fully that I cannot make anyone believe.  If only I could pray them into accepting the truth.  Yet all I can do is pray for them and strive to present the Truth in the best possible way.  I find myself desiring to protect the Church against any assaults they might hurl at Her.  In the midst of the moment I forget that the Church can defend Herself adequately and I need have no concerns about Her being found lacking.  I look at their lack of love for the Church and I am bewildered.  It takes a while for me to remind myself that I did not always harbor this love for the Church that I do now. 

I desired a mission and the Lord has placed me in the missionary field of a classroom in a Catholic high school.  My idealistic view of teaching is not completely gone, although the past couple months has tempered it.  How do I give the love I have to them?  How do I take their skepticism and help it become belief?  It is not because of me that any of their hearts will be converted.  I am convinced of this.  My beautiful lessons seem to be less than impressive to them.  The very things that fill me with joy can put them to sleep.  Despite the resistance that some of them put up to the Church, to the Truth, to me, I know that these hours that they spend in my classroom will impact them in some way unforseen to anyone.  Initially, I was glad to see them write the correct answers on the paper, knowing that even if they didn't believe the answer they had to memorize it for the test.  Now, I want much more from them.  I find myself desiring rebuttal rather than the perfectly formulated answer that they could care less about.  I want them to care deeply one way or the other.  In some ways it is hard to rouse this generation to action or to convince them to be totally committed to something even though in their core that is what they desire.  But then again my own heart is so slow to be awakened and called to action.

How the heart of Our Lord must ache for us, His beloved ones!  My desire for them to accept the truth is not as firmly rooted as is the Lord's desire for them to become what they are called to be.  My love for them wavers and changes based on the day.  But the Lord's love remains firm and unyielding.  I pray to have His heart for them so that I may love them as I ought.  How far I have to go.  Where I see battle lines to be drawn, Our Lord sees lost sheep to find and craddle in His arms.  Where I see rebellion, Our Lord sees the pain and hurt that they have experienced.  Teaching one of my classes about David I was struck again by the call to be a woman after God's own heart.  I am called to become more and more like God and by doing so to become the saint that He desires me to be, that He needs me to be.  Because only a saint can fulfill the call that the Lord has placed upon my heart, upon the heart of each person.

While my title may be "teacher" I am striving to embrace more fully the title of "missionary" so that I may remember that every place needs to be evangelized and that this is not my home.  For now, my mission field is the classroom and my students are the ones who need to hear the Gospel proclaimed to them.  Regardless of how small or large the task appears to me, I must remember that because the Lord wills this of me in this present moment, this task is the most important thing for me.  This is my mission, this is my street, this is my life.

"Do not be afraid to go out onto the streets and into public places like the first apostles who preached Christ and the Good News of salvation in the squares of cities, towns, and villages." 

Bl. Pope John Paul II (WYD 1993)

Desiring His Heart

      Life is never quite what one expects it would be.  Although as I write that I wonder quite quickly what I expected life would be like.  And then I am at a loss.  Despite that, I am beginning to understand what life should be like.  It is supposed to be continual journey...a gradual meandering closer and closer to the heart of the One who loves me best. 

"O God You are my God, for You I long, for You my soul is thirsting, my body pines for You..." 

 I seek after the One who has already found me. 

      The Lord has placed me as a high school teacher and it is in this profession that I need to find Him in others.  It is in this new position as a teacher that I have developed a deeper love for Jesus as the Good Teacher.  It is also as a teacher that I have been reminded of how much growing I have to do for both my sake and for the sake of my students.  While my heart is yearning for adventure and a great task, I am striving to seek after the heart of the Lord in the role that He has now placed me.  Maybe I will discover, as many saints have said, that true greatness lies in the little things, that faithfulness, not success, is what Our Lord truly desires from us.