Confession

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).