On Wednesday I had dinner with two friends who I worked with last year. And if I'm being honest, I'm surprised (and very, very thankful) that they're still willing to spend time with me because last year I wasn't a very attractive version of myself, and I'm not sure I would still want to my friend. Occasionally, people will ask me why I stopped blogging, and my answer is always that I got too busy with work. But that's not really true. When you write about what you're learning and how God is working in your life and then you stop investing in that relationship, you have to stop writing because you don't have anything to say.
Last school year was one of the most challenging times in my life. (At dinner Wednesday I declared that I was no longer going to talk or think about it and was instead just going to refer to it as "My Dark Year" if it ever came up, and one of my friends agreed with me very, very quickly.) Two things that are true about me are that I don't love things that are hard and I don't like things I'm not good at. Really, I don't like to feel like a failure. At all. So when I was met with my most challenging group of students to date, it didn't take long for me to start falling apart. I could list for you all the things that were challenging about them, but those reasons aren't important. In fact, that list is just the first item in a much longer list of the things I did wrong.
As the year went on, I got more and more discouraged. I felt like a terrible teacher, like I wasn't doing my job, and for someone who struggles with finding her identity in other people's opinions of her and in her own performance, this is a frightening and very uncomfortable feeling to have. Instead of being honest about what was going wrong for me professionally, searching for ways to make it better, and trusting God and relying on Him, I pretty much did the exact opposite. I started to blame people. Things weren't going well because of our school's new discipline system. Things weren't going well because my students were lazy and apathetic and disrespectful and incredibly full of themselves and spoiled.
These were my thoughts. None of this was my fault. It was obviously the fault of all the other parties involved. Clearly, I was being wronged here. I was a good teacher. I had been told this so many times before. I achieved my National Board Certification. In just my fifth year, I was department head. I led professional development for teachers across my district. If my students couldn't see that and appreciate me, that was their fault, and they were very, very wrong. Really, they should have been thankful to have me as their teacher. That is what I kept telling myself. And that, dear reader, is how I--instead of humbling myself before the Lord--exalted myself and entered into a long-term relationship with my pride (who is, rather unfortunately, a friend I have quite a hard time shaking).
As you can imagine, the longer I held on to my pride, the less like myself I became (really the more horrible I became). First I was angry. Then bitter. Then sad. Really, really sad. And I realized exactly what was going on, but instead of admitting it, I just held tighter to my pride. Work might have been terrible, I might have been lonely, but I had this pride, dang it, and I wasn't about to let it go!
But alas, instead of being a comforting friend, it was toxic. I stopped being encouraging--to my students or my friends. I stopped reading my Bible. I stopped really praying, aside from occasional, half-hearted pleas for my day at school to be ok or angry reminders that I deserved better than this (I know--yikes!). I stopped wanting to do anything really, except hang out alone in my apartment, probably under a blanket. I became very selfish with my time. I didn't want to plan or grade. I didn't want to help people. I didn't want to wake up for work. I didn't want to go to church. I didn't want to go to my prayer group (some of whom I've been in a small group with for over two years, all of whom are some of the most Godly, understanding, and encouraging women I've ever known). I didn't want to have to go anywhere or see anyone. (Reminder--it's my dark year). All I wanted was for the school year to end because in my mind that was going to be the end of my problems (or at least I wouldn't have to go anywhere anymore...).
Really all summer brought was the chance for me to get some space and reflect, a chance for me to take responsibility for what I'd done, a chance for me to confess, and a chance to repent. And the past few weeks have been a beautiful reminder that Jesus died for teachers who fail. A reminder that I've been forgiven. That it is finished. It has been a time where God has quietly and constantly whispered to me that I am loved. That I'm His daughter. That while what I did was very, very wrong, I don't need to feel guilty and ashamed. And that a life filled with pride and sadness isn't the life He has for me. He's restored my joy, and I'm actually excited about school starting in August, which is something I didn't think I'd be able to say.
In an effort to make this year better than the last, I'm going to start studying Mark, specifically focusing on Jesus as a teacher. What I can learn from Him and His interactions with people that I can apply at school--in my leadership role, with my coworkers, and with my students. Theoretically, if I'm doing that, I'll have plenty to blog about, so if I stop blogging again, you can ask me why and hold me accountable (or at least my Mom can...because she reads this and can be rather tenacious, which is just the English major way of saying can sometimes badger me out of love until I get unjustifiably annoyed with her...sorry, Mom). So that's what you have to look forward to here (or at least now you can decide to stop reading).
Friday, July 19, 2013
Top Five Movies So Far
If you know me, you know I go to the movies. A lot. (And usually by myself, which some people think is weird but that I think is awesome.) With the full knowledge that no one's out there dying to know what my favorite movies of the year have been so far, I present to you this list of my five favorites. (As long as I have a blog, I may as well use it to inflict my opinions on the world.)
5. Upstream Color
This movie makes no sense (much like Shane Carruth's other movie Primer). Except it does. Almost. The whole time you're watching it, you get this feeling like there's this perfectly reasonable explanation of how everything fits together and makes sense, but each time you think you figure it out, you realize there's a piece you left out and now have no place to put. And then you think you've really gotten it, but there's this bit about Walden that just refuses to make sense. All that sounds annoying and frustrating, which it may be. But regardless of that, this was the most engaged I've been with any movie I've seen in a long time. There are usually a few times in a movie when my mind starts to wander, when I start to think about how much longer it is (not always because it's bad--sometimes I don't want things to end), or when I start to think about all the stuff I should be doing instead of sitting in a movie. That didn't happen at all in this movie. Not once. I was intellectually engaged with it, thinking about it, the entire time. And I loved that.
4. Much Ado About Nothing
I suspect the sheer amount of enjoyment I got out of seeing this movie comes from two things.
First, I don't really go to see many comedies. This is because most movies that come out in theaters where I live that are billed as comedies are either stupid funny or disgusting funny, and I've always been of the opinion that neither of these types of funny are, in fact, very funny. I'm a much bigger fan of things that are quirky funny or stupid-but-we-know-we're-being-stupid-so-really-we're-making-fun-of-stupid-funny funny. (I like to call this intelligent funny, but that makes me sound kind of like I think highly of myself and my sense of humor, so I'm not going to do that here.) The point is, I don't see funny movies in theaters very often. Usually I see movies that are realistic (read sometimes a little dark and sometimes a little sad), so there was something really great about seeing a comedy--a quippy, sarcastic comedy-- in a pretty full theater with lots of people laughing (especially this one group of ladies who were really, really laughing).
Second, when I was in college, I decided to take a Renaissance Drama class because I thought to myself it wasn't fair the only thing people read from that time was Shakespeare. I thought there were all these other playwrights doing great stuff who had just been overshadowed, so I was going to take this class, learn about them, and then talk about them at parties (I don't know what parties) and sound really smart and above people. This didn't happen. Shakespeare's the only guy we still read because his stuff really is loads better than other stuff from the same time (except Marlowe's stuff, which is amazing, but since he died in a sketchy, bar-fight-type thing, there's not a lot of it). I read Much Ado in college, but hadn't really thought about it, or any Shakespeare really, in a while. So, the English major in me loved getting reacquainted with the Bard. And seeing his plays, in any form, is always better than just reading them, I think.
Bottom line, it's smart and fun.
(Plus the whole time you kind of feel like you're watching Joss Whedon's episode of Cribs, which is fun.)
3. Before Midnight
This is a classic example of a movie I like because it feels authentic to me. I feel like I'm watching real people dealing with real life, and those are just the kind of movies I prefer (which is clear in my top two movies). I loved the first two movies in this series, so I expected to love this one and I was not disappointed. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy have managed to make me love their characters, so watching them fight, I was pretty worried about them. I just wanted them to work it out. If Upstream Color had me intellectually engaged, Before Midnight had me emotionally engaged. I also love it because it's pretty much just talking; it's a movie based solely on conversations. And I love those conversations; I want to talk to people like that. (The series has probably given me a very unlikely idea of how I would like to talk with someone if I'm ever in a relationship because I'm an introvert and not particularly good at small talk or conversations, but that's neither here nor there.)
2. Frances Ha
There is no way I'm going to watch a movie about a twenty-something girl who feels awkward and out of place and like everyone's lives are working out except her own and like she's being left behind and not love it. Because it's basically a movie about me. Except I'm not a dancer and I don't live in New York. But I know how it feels to watch your friends grow up, and do exciting things, and get engaged/married/whatever, and feel like you're somehow on the outside of the life you're supposed to be living, stuck in some weird place that's boring and dull and lonely. So watching this movie, which tells the story of a girl named Frances who is exactly there, made me feel not so weird and not so alone. And I love that the end isn't some big, dramatic thing. It's simple and subtle, just like the ending of this movie in most people's lives.
1. Stories We Tell
Helping a friend plan for the upcoming school year, I realized how many documentaries I watch. This is one of them. Sarah Polley interviews her family and various family friends trying to figure out the answer to a family mystery, which I won't go into, but it really turns into a picture of how we remember things, how we piece together those memories into our own stories, and why we need to tell stories at all. It's amazing. I was particularly into all the parts of people describing Polley's mom, who died when Polley was young, and how people's memories of her were sometimes markedly different and how losing her had probably really shaped how people remembered her (this is probably because my dad died when I was a kid). I'm not sure exactly how she does it, but Polley manages to take all these pieces of interviews and pictures and home movies and turn them into something truly remarkable.
(Bonus! My favorite movie of the year that other people may have actually seen...aka my favorite one that played at a normal movie theater and not the art house theater downtown is Star Trek: Into Darkness, which I love for entirely superficial, shallow reasons (please note the distinction between favorite and best): 1) J.J. Abrams, who I will always love because he gave me Felicity. 2) It's another chapter in the beautiful Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto interpretation of the Cpt. Kirk/Spock bromance, which I adore. I feel like a majority of friendships featured in movies involve girls, but guys have friends too, you guys. 3) BuffBatch. He's got muscles and a long monologue where the only thing that distracts you from his glorious voice is a lonely tear sliding down his face. Don't even try to pretend you didn't love listening to his voice in a movie theater. Don't even try.
Iron Man 3 and Monsters University were good too, but J.J. wins every day. Because Felicity. )
5. Upstream Color
This movie makes no sense (much like Shane Carruth's other movie Primer). Except it does. Almost. The whole time you're watching it, you get this feeling like there's this perfectly reasonable explanation of how everything fits together and makes sense, but each time you think you figure it out, you realize there's a piece you left out and now have no place to put. And then you think you've really gotten it, but there's this bit about Walden that just refuses to make sense. All that sounds annoying and frustrating, which it may be. But regardless of that, this was the most engaged I've been with any movie I've seen in a long time. There are usually a few times in a movie when my mind starts to wander, when I start to think about how much longer it is (not always because it's bad--sometimes I don't want things to end), or when I start to think about all the stuff I should be doing instead of sitting in a movie. That didn't happen at all in this movie. Not once. I was intellectually engaged with it, thinking about it, the entire time. And I loved that.
4. Much Ado About Nothing
I suspect the sheer amount of enjoyment I got out of seeing this movie comes from two things.
First, I don't really go to see many comedies. This is because most movies that come out in theaters where I live that are billed as comedies are either stupid funny or disgusting funny, and I've always been of the opinion that neither of these types of funny are, in fact, very funny. I'm a much bigger fan of things that are quirky funny or stupid-but-we-know-we're-being-stupid-so-really-we're-making-fun-of-stupid-funny funny. (I like to call this intelligent funny, but that makes me sound kind of like I think highly of myself and my sense of humor, so I'm not going to do that here.) The point is, I don't see funny movies in theaters very often. Usually I see movies that are realistic (read sometimes a little dark and sometimes a little sad), so there was something really great about seeing a comedy--a quippy, sarcastic comedy-- in a pretty full theater with lots of people laughing (especially this one group of ladies who were really, really laughing).
Second, when I was in college, I decided to take a Renaissance Drama class because I thought to myself it wasn't fair the only thing people read from that time was Shakespeare. I thought there were all these other playwrights doing great stuff who had just been overshadowed, so I was going to take this class, learn about them, and then talk about them at parties (I don't know what parties) and sound really smart and above people. This didn't happen. Shakespeare's the only guy we still read because his stuff really is loads better than other stuff from the same time (except Marlowe's stuff, which is amazing, but since he died in a sketchy, bar-fight-type thing, there's not a lot of it). I read Much Ado in college, but hadn't really thought about it, or any Shakespeare really, in a while. So, the English major in me loved getting reacquainted with the Bard. And seeing his plays, in any form, is always better than just reading them, I think.
Bottom line, it's smart and fun.
(Plus the whole time you kind of feel like you're watching Joss Whedon's episode of Cribs, which is fun.)
3. Before Midnight
This is a classic example of a movie I like because it feels authentic to me. I feel like I'm watching real people dealing with real life, and those are just the kind of movies I prefer (which is clear in my top two movies). I loved the first two movies in this series, so I expected to love this one and I was not disappointed. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy have managed to make me love their characters, so watching them fight, I was pretty worried about them. I just wanted them to work it out. If Upstream Color had me intellectually engaged, Before Midnight had me emotionally engaged. I also love it because it's pretty much just talking; it's a movie based solely on conversations. And I love those conversations; I want to talk to people like that. (The series has probably given me a very unlikely idea of how I would like to talk with someone if I'm ever in a relationship because I'm an introvert and not particularly good at small talk or conversations, but that's neither here nor there.)
2. Frances Ha
There is no way I'm going to watch a movie about a twenty-something girl who feels awkward and out of place and like everyone's lives are working out except her own and like she's being left behind and not love it. Because it's basically a movie about me. Except I'm not a dancer and I don't live in New York. But I know how it feels to watch your friends grow up, and do exciting things, and get engaged/married/whatever, and feel like you're somehow on the outside of the life you're supposed to be living, stuck in some weird place that's boring and dull and lonely. So watching this movie, which tells the story of a girl named Frances who is exactly there, made me feel not so weird and not so alone. And I love that the end isn't some big, dramatic thing. It's simple and subtle, just like the ending of this movie in most people's lives.
1. Stories We Tell
Helping a friend plan for the upcoming school year, I realized how many documentaries I watch. This is one of them. Sarah Polley interviews her family and various family friends trying to figure out the answer to a family mystery, which I won't go into, but it really turns into a picture of how we remember things, how we piece together those memories into our own stories, and why we need to tell stories at all. It's amazing. I was particularly into all the parts of people describing Polley's mom, who died when Polley was young, and how people's memories of her were sometimes markedly different and how losing her had probably really shaped how people remembered her (this is probably because my dad died when I was a kid). I'm not sure exactly how she does it, but Polley manages to take all these pieces of interviews and pictures and home movies and turn them into something truly remarkable.
(Bonus! My favorite movie of the year that other people may have actually seen...aka my favorite one that played at a normal movie theater and not the art house theater downtown is Star Trek: Into Darkness, which I love for entirely superficial, shallow reasons (please note the distinction between favorite and best): 1) J.J. Abrams, who I will always love because he gave me Felicity. 2) It's another chapter in the beautiful Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto interpretation of the Cpt. Kirk/Spock bromance, which I adore. I feel like a majority of friendships featured in movies involve girls, but guys have friends too, you guys. 3) BuffBatch. He's got muscles and a long monologue where the only thing that distracts you from his glorious voice is a lonely tear sliding down his face. Don't even try to pretend you didn't love listening to his voice in a movie theater. Don't even try.
Iron Man 3 and Monsters University were good too, but J.J. wins every day. Because Felicity. )
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