this is me throwing up

A few quick hits…or as the title suggests, me throwing up a bit:

SLPS is shut down for the day. No school due to the snow. Many of you will scoff at SLPS closing down when there is only three or so inches on the ground but here’s the deal, if schools were open, attendance would be terrible. At my school, about 90% of the kids ride a bus to and from school. On days like today, it’s a wildcard as to when the bus will arrive or if the bus will arrive at all. On top of that, many of my students don’t have appropriate winter gear. So when it’s 13 degrees outside with a few inches of snow on the ground, parents aren’t likely to get their kids out and about. So I get it. I get why inner-city school districts are some of the first to close.

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Speaking of school, my students will take the MAP (Missouri Assessment Program…aka, the standardized state exam for Missouri) in late March. The stakes are high and the pressure trickles down – no, correction, it flows down mightily. That’s about all we’re doing in class these days, MAP prep for reading, writing and math. Science and social studies? Who needs ‘em?

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At some random point on Saturday of this past weekend, I walked up to Ira, grabbed him, hugged him tight and said, “Ira, I’m so glad you are with us. I love you so much!” He hugged me for a second and then said, “Chill out, dude.”

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Life is so consuming that I no longer watch some of my favorite TV shows. I haven’t seen The Office, 30 Rock, or Lost in, I don’t know how long. I tried starting The Sopranos but the investment seems too much. There is one show that keeps me tuned in: Friday Night Lights. Simply brilliant. Again, friends, why aren’t you watching this show?

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About a month ago, I took the state licensing exam for teaching. It’s called the Praxis. As soon as they handed me the booklet and scantron, my heart started racing. I was immediately transported back to the days when I took exams for college – SAT, ACT. I wasn’t a good test taker then and I was pretty sure nothing had changed in 18 years.

I walked out of the Praxis thinking that I did horrible. I found out today that I passed. That’s a huge relief!

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For Christmas, my mom took all my high school basketball games that were on VHS to a guy who put them on DVDs. I have to admit that I’ve actually watched one of them. I should continue my admission by saying I intentionally watched a game in which I played well. It was pretty funny to watch my young, little, scrawny self play basketball. It also made me miss playing with those guys who I grew up with.

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Opal went to her six month check up last week. Is it bad that I was a little sad that she no longer ranks in the 99% in weight? Yep, she dropped to the 97%. Gotta start feeding that girl again.

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Speaking of growing, Sophia continues to grow and I don’t like it. There’s a boy in her class who really, really likes her. I don’t like him. Sophia has my heart in a way she can’t even understand.

Filed under: Ira, family, teaching

that guy

I said I would never do that; be that guy. But here I am. On most days I work 10-12 hours away from home. I’m not proud of this by any means. I am not boasting about my hard working ethic. In fact, if anything, I’m confessing. This new work schedule is taking its toll on me and most importantly, it’s doing harm to my family.

I saw and felt the toll it took on my own family growing up when, during tax season, my dad would work a ridiculous amount of hours per day, per week. Later on in life, I wondered about Ira’s doctors and their families when I would see the doctor at 6 a.m. and then again at 6 PM. I witnessed the hurt in an other family when the husband/father worked hard as a corporate lawyer aspiring to make partner. And I listened in awe to the investment banker friend of mine back in NYC who would tell me the kind of hours he put in day in and day out. I understood (and still understand) that there are some professions that require this kind of work, these long working days. For example, I’m glad Ira’s doctors were immersed in their work and that they worked hard to perfect their craft. Ira’s here today because of their willingness to pour themselves into their work but I just never felt that kind of consummate work was for me. After those experiences and observations, I promised myself that I would never do that; be that guy. But here I am.

Here’s the rub: I can’t see any way around it right now. I can’t fathom how to get it all done in an other kind of way. And my students, they need my best. They need me to work hard perfecting the craft of teaching so that they can catch up, move on, gain confidence, dream big. They need me.

No, I’m no messiah but “JD” is no longer reading on a 2nd grade level. He’s reading on a 3rd grade level and is excited for the first time in his life about catching up to his peers. “JT” doesn’t spend his days in the principal’s office like he did last year. In fact, he is my only male student to get all As on his report card. His dad – his big, tough dad – cried when he opened up “JT’s” report card. His dad and I are slowly but surely convincing “JT” that his aim should not be to work in a factory as it was at the beginning of the year but to be the boss at the factory.

And so I work hard and long for these kids. Meanwhile, it’s exhausting and my family doesn’t get the best of me. Where, oh where, is that elusive balance? Could it be that this is seasonal work like my dad’s? Could it be that I’m a first year teacher and this is just how it goes for first year teachers? Are there any right answers to this dilemma?

I always said I would never do that; be that guy. But here I am.

Filed under: family, teaching

you’re my inspiration (think chicago)

I will never forget the day the homely looking elderly woman rang our doorbell.

I was in middle school and only had time to think about my current predicament: the puberty fairy still hadn’t found time to bestow me with any under arm hair, I was just now understanding that I was a mediocre student and would have to work extra, extra hard to ever be more than mediocre, I was just now understanding that I hated getting hit on the football field (and folks, in west Texas, that’s considered a catastrophe of monumental proportions), and then there were zits. Zits were starting to wage a war against my face.

So one day after school I sat at home and mulled over my miserable status as a middle school student. And then the doorbell rang and forced me to temporarily suspend all narcissistic activity.

I looked through the window and noticed a short woman who looked pretty homely. Because the town I grew up in had 3,262 people in it (yes, I still remember what the population sign read while I was growing up) we knew just about everyone. But at first glance, I did not know this woman. For a brief moment, I looked her over. She was a bit hunched over which was either a sign of her old age or was a symptom of too many days spent bent over cotton stalks and pulling weeds. The clothes she wore told me that she lived either on the other side of the tracks or the other side of Lockwood Ave. Her short curly hair was disheveled. So even though I didn’t know this woman on the other side of the door, I knew this woman.

I cautiously opened the door to this stranger. She held in her hands a plate covered with tin foil. She offered it to me and said something in English that I could not understand. I didn’t immediately accept this woman’s offering because I was trained well: “What’s it going to cost me to take what you’re offering me? Nothing’s free in this world!” It was pretty awkward for a moment. I was saying “huh?” a lot and the elderly woman was saying “ummm, how you say?” a lot. I squinted my eyes thinking that would help me understand her better while also yelling “WHAT?” at her thinking that being louder would most certainly help. That’s just how we English-only folks roll, you know? We yell at folks who don’t speak our language. And so I kept yelling, “WHAT? I CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOU!” at her. After a few more awkward moments, this woman and I started to connect. It happened when I realized she wasn’t trying to sell me anything.

Finally, I made sense of her English: “for your father. Tell him, ‘thank you.’” I nodded, took the plate and she slowly walked away. I closed the door and went and found my mom. I told her about the encounter and we proceeded to uncover what was under the tin foil. It was full of freshly made tamales. In fact, they were still warm. Mom nodded knowingly.

“Mom, why did that woman just give us these tamales?”

“Because your dad probably did that woman’s taxes for free.”

“Does he do that a lot?”

“I have no idea but I’m guessing he does.”

My dad’s work for that woman and the service I’m guessing he bestowed upon others has been my inspiration for many years.  On that day the homely looking elderly woman rang my doorbell, my selfishness was exposed. On that day, Dad unknowingly forced me to ask myself: What is my life going to be about?

Along the journey, I’ve come across others like my dad. There’s Yael who took out huge loans for law school and then practiced a kind of law that serves those who are in dire need. There’s my sister and her husband, Jackie and Ryan, and friends, Ken and Megan, who are foster parents and take care of kids who are desperate for love, attention and affection. There’s Seth and Stephanie, pastors in New Jersey, who encourage their church to always look for ways to serve the poor and disenfranchised. There’s a cluster of folks in New York who work relentlessly for an upstate camp so that kids in impoverished situations have a chance to live a summer camp experience.

All of these folks (and more) hold me accountable by asking: What is your life going to be about?

Thank you, Dad. Thank you Yael, Jackie, Ryan, Ken, Megan, Seth, Stephanie, Camp Shiloh friends. Thank you for inspiring me. Thank you for your witness to this world.

So let’s flip the script: Who is it that inspires you to be a better person? Someone who reminds you that life is not about you? Go ahead, don’t be shy, comment and let me know.

Filed under: family, friends, hope

on jay-z

So I’ve been listening to Jay-Z’s latest album, The Blueprint 3, quite a bit these days. He helps me unwind after work and he keeps me fired up during my early morning workouts. My favorite song, of course, is “Empire State of Mind.”

I’m pretty homesick these days for New York City and in “Empire State of Mind” Jay-Z takes the listener on a tour of the city. Love it. However, as much as I love that song and Alicia Keys’ vocals, I think I may love Stephen Colbert’s version more. Check it here. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

On the final song of the album, Jay-Z uses a hook from Alphaville’s “Forever Young” to set the pace of his “Young Forever.” It’s fabulously fun but also a reminder that we won’t, in fact, stay young forever. Jay-Z essentially asks, “How will you be remembered?” Good question to ponder.

By the way, someone want to explain those opening lyrics to Alphaville’s 1984 version of “Forever Young?” (Does the question mark go inside the quotes or outside the quotes? Argh.) I’m guessing they are responding to the Cold War we were in the midst of but what of these ending lyrics in the intro:

Sitting in a sandpit,
Life is a short trip,
The music’s for the sad man

So Jay-Z is pretty fired up about his new album. I mean, just listen to the lyrics. He’ll let you know. And he has reason to be fired up. It’s good. Sure, he boasts a bit too much but he’s a rapper. That’s what rappers do. Heck, that’s what rockers do. Actors do. You can’t be in the spot light and not think highly of yourself. It’s a dangerous game but we, the general audience, kinda require our spot light folks to be big headed. We need them to be good, very good, the best! so that we can be transported away from our normal-ness. And that’s what Jay-Z does in his new album. He takes you away for a while and gets you fired up.

(And, hey, if I ever see you in person, remind me to tell you the story about the time I broke down a Knicks game for Jay-Z. He was like, “y’all were at the game?” And my friend was like, “yeah.” And he was like, “how did it go down?” And that’s where I took over because my friend liked basketball but didn’t really have a clue about how the game is played. I was like, “the Knicks kicked the Heats’ ass.” (I think you have to curse when talking to dudes like Jay-Z. Sorry, Mom.) And he was like, “What?” And I was like, “I know. You should have seen…” And I kept going and he kept asking more questions. And it was dope. Ask me about it. For reals.)

(Yes, I just named drop. Sue me.)

Filed under: New York, music

sacred moments, past and present

Even after years of school in which I studied the divine, even after eight full time years of working for/with/through the divine I’m not sure I could define what a sacred moment is. In other words, words just don’t seem to be an adequate source of trying to communicate what a sacred moment is. I’ve always said to someone who has inquired about a sacred moment, “sometimes you’ll know it when  you’re in it. Many times, you won’t know a moment is sacred until much later.”

As the new year begins, I look back on 2009 and realize that Laura and I were blessed with many sacred moments. There was the worship service in which our Christ’s Church for Brooklyn family said goodbye to us. There was the moment when the leadership at Manhattan Church of Christ pledged to cover our health insurance until our current insurance kicked in. There was Laura’s delivery of Opal. There was the moment when Teach For America said, “yes.” There was the moment I got chills standing in front of my fourth graders. There was the moment when the pastor at Union Avenue Christian Church said, “we are glad you are here.”

As I recall these events that seem pretty obvious in their sacredness I can’t help but think of an event that was seemingly neutral in its affect. It was the moment we pulled up in front of Harvey and Kay’s (Laura’s parents) house with our moving truck. I have no idea what Harvey and Kay were feeling as our big truck pulled in their driveway but their words seemed sincere, “welcome home.” Truthfully, Laura and I were pretty nervous about this part of our transition. But I can honestly say after seven months of living with my in-laws that living with them has been a blessing.

2009 was some kind of year and it would be easy to say about it, “good riddance.” Instead, I choose to see God’s work, God’s hand, God’s provision. I choose to be a witness of God’s sacred moments in my life and revel in them. And because of God’s faithfulness in 2009 I am all the more confident in 2010. I thank God for what was and what is and what is to come.

Filed under: CCfB, God, Laura, church, family, hope, pregnancy, teaching

bring on the holidays!

Thanks to Paula, I was able to give my kids brand new books for gifts before the holiday break. My kids were so excited. They each got at least two new books and taken into consideration were their reading levels. They were so proud of their gifts and couldn’t stop showing them off at the end of the day!

After celebrating Christmas with Laura’s mom and dad in St. Louis, we headed to my parents’ house in Tahoka, Texas. You may be thinking to yourself, “What in the world is there to do in Tahoka?” Well, Opal figured it out. Snuggling with Gram is just about perfect.

Sophia and I had other plans.

And of course, we HAD to visit SantaLand. It’s been around for 53 years. I remember visiting SantaLand when I was a kid. What I don’t remember was the randomness of the decor. For those of you keeping score at home, yes, that’s a nativity scene next to Clifford the Dog and his friends which is accentuated by an American flag.

Finally, what’s a visit to SantaLand without a visit with Santa and Mrs. Claus? (Does she have a first name?) Yeah, we caved. Insert joke here about how Laura and I have given in to the corporatization of the holiday season. But dang, this picture is cute!

Filed under: family, holidays, teaching

december 2009 update

I wished I knew the camera was on. Oh well, here’s a quick update. Okay, not so quick but you won’t be disappointed spending 11 minutes watching this gem…or maybe you will.

Monday’s Winner: Antonio

Tuesday’s Winner: Chanice

Filed under: family, music, teaching

union ave christian church

As soon as we moved from Brooklyn to St. Louis I hit the ground running. Meaning, Teach For America quickly consumed my life. Therefore, Laura and I didn’t have a lot of time to think about what we would do to find a church home. And personally, I didn’t have a lot of time to think about my shift from being a pastor to a layperson.

What we did know is that we wanted to explore a new denomination. Specifically, we wanted to see what was up with the couple of St. Louis Christian Churches (Disciples of Christ) that we had heard about.

While teaching in Atlanta for the summer, I made it a point to fly home a couple of weekends to be with the family. (If you didn’t catch that, we moved to St. Louis and a week later I went to Atlanta for teacher training.) The first weekend I flew down we spent Sunday morning at a local church. No one spoke to us before or after the service. A few weeks later, I flew home again from Atlanta. That Sunday we visited Union Avenue Christian Church. We were immediately greeted by an older couple that couldn’t have been sweeter. The pastors of the church also made it a point to greet us before and after the service. Within a few minutes, we were telling them our story. The friendliness was overwhelming…in a good way.

After I finished my teaching stint in Atlanta I came home and days later, Laura gave birth to Opal June. Ten days later we took her to Union Avenue. We hadn’t officially committed to UA but the pastor scooped Opal up and spoke a blessing over her during the service. We were sold. A couple of Sundays later we became members of the church.

Laura and I are in the rotation to teach a children’s class, Laura sings in the choir and we both have served as liturgists. The church family didn’t blink an eye at my unusual story: a former pastor who is now teaching but still thinking of obtaining standing within their (now my) denomination. The church fully embraced us. And we, in turn, have embraced them.

If you find yourself in St. Louis come and visit this church that is dedicated to the neighborhood it finds itself in, to the arts and to any and every one who walks through its doors. And if you do make it one Sunday, look for Laura sitting with the choir in the chancel and for me sitting with three squirmy kids in the pew. I hope to see you there.

Filed under: church

a remainder of frustration

I just popped three Ibuprofen. I’m now sitting in my chair behind my desk with my mouth propped open just a bit. I’m guessing that if I had a mirror handy and if I looked into it I would see someone who looked as if they had just been flattened by an eighteen-wheeler full of heavy, heavy cargo…three times over. (Yeah, three times. Like, the driver of the eighteen-wheeler flattened me once, looked in his rearview mirror and wasn’t satisfied. And so he threw the rig in reverse and did it again. And then again. Dang that driver!)

Today was just one of those days. A “three-Ibuprofen, mouth propped open and can’t shut” kind of day. And now as I sit here behind the desk I ask the questions that must be asked if I want tomorrow to be better: ”What made today hard? And what can be different tomorrow?”

After some contemplation, there is one answer to the first question. The math we are doing is hard: division with remainders. About half the class is struggling with this objective and I got frustrated today with these struggling students. It wasn’t my best moment today. And so now I have to ask and answer the next question, What can be different tomorrow?

Filed under: teaching

in need of a cheesy tie!

I wear ties every day. A teaching friend of mine back in New York wore a tie every day and it impressed me. The culture of Teach For America is such that dressing nicely is strongly encouraged. And so I wear a tie. Every day. And I don’t even mind.

At the beginning of October I found this ridiculously cheesy Halloween tie that when you pressed a button at the bottom of the tie, it played spooky noises. I found it at the dollar store. The kids loved it. LOVED IT! I pounced all over their enthusiasm for the tie and told them that I would pick a student of the month on October 30 and award them with the tie. The student who won the tie on Oct 30 was ecstatic and wore the tie proudly that day. And in typical SuperStar fashion, the class cheered her on.

I’m in need of a cheesy Christmas tie that plays a Christmas tune but can’t find one. Any suggestions as to where I should look? The dollar store did not produce this time around. Have you seen this type of tie at a chain retail store?

And for the record, I so wish there was a generic holiday tie that played a mixture of Hanukkah, Christmas, and Kwanzaa music but I’m betting that I’m outta luck on that front.

Filed under: fashion, holidays, teaching