Top 10 for New Teachers

A couple weeks ago, I got an email from a friend of a friend who is about to graduate with her MAT and adventure into her own classroom in the fall.  She asked me for my top ten pieces of advice for her as a brand new teacher.  Well….shoot.  No one had ever asked me that before, and I was admittedly pretty stumped.  I sat on that email for a full week and a half before I finally starting writing…but once I did, man, the words just kept pouring out of my fingertips.  I’m not sure if I’m feeling nostalgic as I say ‘see ya later’ to the classroom this year and move into a new role as an instructional coach….but whatever it is, here’s what I came up with.  I actually think her question was pretty brilliant, and very insightful for a young lady about to embark into the profession.  So Katie….here you go :)  I have such excitement for you as you take your first steps into education, and I have every confidence that you will make an outstanding teacher.   I can’t wait to hear about your adventures <3>

Top 10 for New Teachers

1. Love your kids first.  Make sure they know it.  Invest time in getting to know the people will be walking through your classroom door every day for nine months.  Understand that, for many of them, they’ll spend more daily face to face time with you then their own parents.  So champion them.  Be their cheerleader.  Believe in them, no matter what.  We have so many standards that we’re expected to teach and so many benchmarks to reach…but truly, what you can ask for and expect of these kids depends so much on how much you invest in them as individuals.  Just love their socks off    

2. Model empathy.  Kids are hardwired to love on each other, I truly believe that.  They’re hardwired to champion and cheer for their friends, to love fully and recklessly, and to accept one another without question.  But somewhere along the way, society teaches them something else.  They learn that words are powerful, and that some are like a sucker punch to the gut.  And they learn to use words as weapons to hurt and to tear each other down.  And somehow, that becomes ‘cool’.   Teach them to reject that worldly definition.  Demonstrate that truly influential people are those that exude grace in the face of adversity.  Who stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves, and who choose to act when other choose to walk away.  One of the first words I introduce to my students and in my classroom is integrity.  Who are you when no one is looking?  That’s the person I care about the most.

3. Set the bar high, and do it unapologetically.  Over the years, many a parent has walked up to me after Back to School Night and said some version of “Are you sure those are realistic expectations for ____ grade?!”  Every single year….I just smile.  Because I’m sure.  I’m sure that kids achieve the most when you expect the most.  I don’t lower my expectations for anyone; I just scaffold more along the way.  Does that mean that every child will meet every standard?  No.  But that’s not the point.  I’m teaching kids to value themselves, to reach higher than what seems possible, and to not limit themselves.  If I don’t think they can do it, why on earth would they even try? Kids are remarkable.  And you’ll be amazing what they can achieve if you just make them believe they can.

4. Be silly.  Laugh a lot.  Let kids be kids and join in the fun anytime you can.  Learning is an experience that is best experienced together.

5. Extend grace to the more prickly parents you encounter along the way.  Understand that they are advocating for their kids the best they know how.  Parenting is a hard gig.  We’re all doing the best we can, so even when it hurts and you want to bite back….just extend grace.   Be transparent.  Be humble.  Listen to what they say, and respond in love.  Not all parents truly understand that you love their kid too.  But you do….so just tell them.   

6. Wear your heart on your sleeve.  Really. It’s okay to care, and it’s okay to care a lot.  I’ve sat in meetings and listened to stories of family lives and personal circumstances that have left me devastated.  I’ve gone home at night and cried.  I’ve sat in my room and prayed over the many, many hurts that are just beyond my power to heal.  The greatest influence you’ll ever have as a teacher isn’t over the academics.  It’s over the person.  There will be some students who leave indelible imprints on your heart.  There will be some who literally break your heart.  Who challenge you, push every single one of your buttons and insist on crossing every single line you draw in the sand.  But man….those are my very favorites.  Never forget that they need you the most.  Those boundaries that you’re setting?  Keep setting them.  That tough love?  Keep dishin’ it out.  They need you to care.  They need you to never give up, no matter how hard they make it for you.   

I vividly remember sitting down with one of my toughest students after he had made a particularly poor choice at recess--he was angry with me, and yelled: “THIS IS YOUR FAULT!  YOU ALWAYS GET ME IN TROUBLE!!”  I looked at the tear streaks on his face, at the way his hands were clenched but his bottom lip trembled…and my heart broke for him.  So I took his hands in mine, and I told him a story about my own kids. I told him about how Blake had hit his sister the day before and I had put him in time out.  I told him how Blake had yelled and whined and criiiiied and cried because he didn’t like my consequence. Then I asked that little boy if he thought I did that to Blake because I had been angry with him, or because I didn’t love him?  And as I asked him that…I saw his eyes begin to well up with tears.  I pulled him into a hug and whispered into his ear, “Buddy, I set those boundaries for Blake because, man….I just love him.  I love him so much and I have so much faith in who he is, and I want him to grow up to be a man of integrity.  I see in him now the person he is becoming, and I’m so proud of him.  It’s just my job to help him get there.”   When I finished, I asked if he understood what I was saying.  I told him that he was no different than Blake, and that I held him accountable for his actions because I loved him.  Because I knew what he was capable of, and I was committed to helping him become the person I knew he was inside.  And you know what happened? That little boy cried.  Big, alligator tears that stained my shirt as he wrapped his little arms around my neck that day.  I’ll never forget.  He is one that left an indelible mark on my heart, and I will forever care about the person he is becoming.  So just remember that you are a difference maker.  Don’t let anyone fall through the cracks.  They are all worthy of being loved like that. 

7. Celebrate success!  Go big.  Kids love to hear that you’re proud of them, and they love to be celebrated.  So do it!  Tell these little people how stinkin’ proud you are of them every single day.  Call home to share some classroom accomplish, either big or small.  Find as many reasons as you can to celebrate these little lives.

8. Value yourself as a great teacher.  Just believe it.  You have chosen a truly noble profession and have been given a great gift—the power to change a life.  You can believe you’re a mediocre teacher doing a mediocre job, or you can realize the inspiration you are to these kids.  Believe in yourself just as much as you believe in them.

9. Robert Frost has long held one of my very favorite, albeit a bit cheeky, quotes about education: 

“There are two kinds of teachers: the kind that fills you with so much quail shot that you can't move, and the kind that just gives you a little prod behind and you jump to the skies.”

Just give that gentle prod.  Don’t be afraid to step back and explore your role of teaching as a guide.  Some of the richest learning opportunities occur when you give students the chance to take the lead; so teach them how to talk to each other and how to be thinkers.  Let them explore new ideas and get excited about the possibilities.  It’s such a valuable life skill that is so easily overlooked.  

10. Lastly, and maybe most importantly, be you.  Certainly take the time to learn from teachers who inspire you professionally, but in the end….do you.   Don’t try to be anyone else.  Sometimes you’ll float effortlessly, and sometimes you’ll tread water while you try madly to keep your head above water.  Hey, welcome to teaching ;)  It’s okay.  

Inevitably, at the beginning of every year in kindergarten, there are a few sweet little ones who erupt in alligator tears the moment mom or dad walks out the door.  So many times over the years, I’ve bent down, wrapped my arms around those tiny little shoulders and said the same, heartfelt words: Sweetheart, I know this is new.  I know this is scary.  And I know you miss your mom.  But you know what else?  Even though I’m not your mom, I am a mom…and I promise to love you like that.  Every single day.  You and me? We’re in this together. And it’s going to be okay. 

I think that's good advice for us too, as educators.  So be yourself, and know that you are surrounded by a network of people who love this job as much as you do.  At the end of the day--especially the hard ones--know that we're all in this together, and it's going to be okay.  
 

So here's to teaching.  Trust me....you're going to love it. 
 

Dear Tucker

Sweet Tucker,

Oh my little love.  Daddy and I always knew your life, even the promise of it, would be the most beautiful of all miracles….but we had no idea just how miraculous God’s plan for you truly would be.   The story of your life has begun with such an intricate and beautifully written plot-twist, and baby, we’re only in the introduction.

I can’t begin to put into words how present God has been throughout this story.  I remember the day that daddy first uttered your name…I remember the bright sunshine, his smile and laugh, your big sister just a few months old in the stroller and your big brother running along behind us as we walked along the path by our house.  Tucker, God whispered the promise of you years before this moment, and He wrote your name on our hearts…He grew you there for years before we would ever hold you in our arms.  It amazes me to think that it was always you.  It could never have been any other moment, despite my longing and pleading and heartache as I missed you.   Tucker, we serve such an intimate God.  We serve a God who knows us and desires a relationship with us that is so much more than anything we could ever hope to understand in our humanity.  We serve a God who walked daddy and I through the pain of missing you, tenderly wiping our tears because he knew it was for our good.  Baby, He knew!  Even when I couldn’t see, God knew that the miracle of you was meant for THIS moment.  His panoramic smashes my Polaroid every single time.   Because it’s always been you.

I write this today seven weeks pregnant.  Pregnant.  We found out the very day that we hosted our social worker to finalize the paperwork for our adoption home study.   So many people have asked me how I knew to take a test.  Part of my fertility struggles involve never knowing when to expect my cycle to start, and not having a cycle really isn’t anything new.  So what was it then? 

Tucker, truly, I just knew. 

We know now that I took that first test when I was just barely 3 weeks pregnant with you.  There was less than a 20% chance that the pregnancy hormone would be high enough at that point to even show up on a test….but it did.  God gave daddy and I the biggest, most beautiful surprise of our lives.  It was all Him.  I think the most beautiful part of this story was the excitement.  Tucker, God orchestrated these events with excitement.  He did!!  It reminds me of how I feel when I have a really, really good present for someone that I just know they’re going to love.  I literally can’t wait for them to open it—to see the surprise and excitement on their faces when they realize what I just handed them!  It was like that.  God took such care in this moment.   He knew how much we’d love the gift of you and He orchestrated each moment as a sweet surprise to our souls: His tender nudging to go out and buy a test, for no real reason, the night before, the faint line that popped up almost immediately…and that was just the beginning!! Later that day, I called your daddy at work, and when my name popped up on his phone….so did a picture of me when I was pregnant with your big brother Blake.  Daddy couldn’t believe it!  He hadn’t changed the photo and it hasn’t been that photo since…we still aren’t sure how to explain that little detail other than to say….God was excited about His gift.  He knew we’d love it.  He knew what He was giving to us and He knew it was, literally, everything we’d ever wanted.  I am in awe of a God that enters into that kind of relationship with us.   

The joy that we get brings joy to the heart of the Giver.

So now….here we are.  We got your first picture a week ago and heard the most beautiful sound in the world; your heartbeat.  There is nothing like knowing a tiny baby is growing inside of me, and with every beat of my heart….yours is thumping along in unison. 

Your brother and sister are beside themselves with excitement.  Blake enthusiastically greets you each morning, pressing his lips close to my belly, and tells you how much he loves you.  Lainey says your name in the sweetest two-year-old speak you’ve ever heard, talking all about her “baby Tuckwer” and all the toys she’ll share with you.   I can’t wait to see you all together. 

Oh Tucker, I can’t wait for you.

If this is the introduction….oh baby, you’d better believe I’m waiting in breathless anticipation as each new page of this story is written.  It’s going to be the adventure of your life.

All my love,

Your Mama

Not a bandaid

Can I talk about grief for a minute?

Actually, no.  I really can’t.  Because grief doesn’t last just a minute.

And maybe that’s the problem.

And honestly?  The hardest thing about going through it is that people forget.  They expect you to get over it.  They want you to get over it, and start getting back to ‘normal’.  They give it a few weeks and then stop asking. How are you doing?  Are you okay today?  How can I help? 

So why is grief so awkward?

To me, grief is an exquisite pain.  It’s a gift of humanity.

exquisite:

1.      extremely beautiful and, typically, delicate.

The deepest pain can only be accompanied by the greatest joy;  you can’t experience the debilitating pain of loss if you’ve never experienced the euphoric joy of loving so very, very fully.  Truly.   

And yet…. I feel like we’re afraid to name it. To claim it.   As a society, we gloss over it.  It feels awkward to talk about.  We desperately want people to get over their loss, we want to put a bandaid on the hurt and replace it with something new as soon as we can.

   

Last week I bumped into a sweet friend of a friend who asked me if we felt better now that we had started the process of the adoption; if that made the failed IVF cycle less painful and easier to get over...especially since we already have two kids. 

I know this came from a place of honest curiosity, but.....oh my, no.   

Adoption is not our bandaid for our grief.

What we lost three weeks ago cannot be fully understood unless you've walked the road we've walked.  We lost lives that we had prayed over daily since their conception in December of 2011.  We lost Blake and Lainey’s last two biological siblings.  We lost them.  We said goodbye to the people at OHSU who had held our hands and loved us through some of the darkest, loneliest days of our marriage.  I’ve cried with these people.  They’re cried with me.  We walked away from a $30,000+ investment in the lives of our children, born and unborn, that (had we know each outcome) we would choose to do again….in half a heartbeat.  My husband and I have held each other and cried over the babies we’ll never meet.  We’ve cried that this story is over.  I’ve mourned my infertility anew.  Repeatedly.   I’ve felt just as lost and vulnerable as I did four long years ago when I didn’t know if I’d ever have kids.  I’ve been angry that we don’t get a next month.  That I can’t have a story like that…that it doesn’t work like that for us.   I’ve asked why.
 

That’s grief.  It’s raw.   

But so is love.  And so is redemption. 

What we lost three weeks ago is not lost.  Earth is a moment, but Heaven?  An eternity.  God heard every prayer I prayed.  For protection.   Right now, my babies are being loved on by the Creator of the Universe.  They are safe.  They are protected.  God heard, and He answered.   Our journey at OHSU intertwined our lives with incredible, loving and selfless people who touched our hearts and will forever reside there.    God allowed us opportunities to be His mouthpiece.   He walked with us every step of the way, and we are so grateful for the chance to have walked in step with our Savior.  My heart is the most full when I feel the crown jewels of Earth around my neck…the arms of my children.  Infertility cannot define me if I allow my God to be my author instead.  I am His treasure.  Our story isn’t over because God is still writing the next chapters.  We are sure of that because our hearts are yearning for our Tucker.  We know this little life is out there waiting for us.   And we are again willing to walk….in step….with the Author of the desires written so flawlessly on our hearts.   He knows what He’s doing.

I know all of these things.  I believe them absolutely.  And yet, I also grieve.  That doesn't need to be hidden; I don't believe it was ever meant to be.  It reminds me that this is real.  It’s okay if it’s not always pretty.  God can handle my ugly.  I grieve the loss because I valued their lives so fully.

October is Infant Loss Awareness month.  Do you know and love someone who is grieving this unfathomable loss?  My friends, don't try and fix it.  Wrap your arms around them today, in a week, and again in a month.  In two months.  In two years.  Let them know you haven't forgotten, that their pain matters to you.  Grief doesn't need a bandaid.  Just experience it with them, and love them through it.

Remind them that this journey is so far from over.....

 

Embryo Adoption

Without meaning to, I was a little bit vague and a little bit confusing on my last post.  So to clarify: when I said we would be adopting Tucker as the tiniest of all babies….I was referring to the relatively new embryo adoption. 

And we are so stinkin’ excited we can’t even begin to contain ourselves.

Embryo adoption refers to the adoption of one of 400,000 frozen embryos worldwide, (many) of whom were created during the IVF process and were then frozen indefinitely once their genetic parents felt like their family was complete. 

Adoption of an embryo is a process very similar to that of domestic infant adoption, and yet uniquely tragic in that the actual embryo is viewed as property in the eyes of the law...not a baby.  At its core, legally speaking, embryo adoption is a legal agreement transferring ownership of the embryo from the genetic parents to the adoptive parents, and it carries with it none of the tax credits or incentives that traditional adoption allows.   

To us, this view of life is a tragedy. We believe that life begins at conception, we believe that these waiting lives are precious and worthy and our hearts are incredibly tenderized to them.  To us, these waiting embryos represent a population of innocent, precious lives that have no one to fight for them.  They have no advocates.

Each year, genetic families decide whether or not to keep storing their embryos, and from experience we know that the fee to freeze and store embryos is upwards of $500 a year.  Genetic parents who are done building their families and find themselves with ‘leftover’ embryos have three choices: (1) donate the embryos to science, (2) continue storing their embryos or (3) have their embryos destroyed. Destroying an embryo involves thawing that precious little life….and then letting it die right there on the table.

I can’t stomach it. 

This is where embryo adoption comes in.  There is no cost to the genetic family, and if they choose to donate their embryos to an embryo adoption agency, they suddenly find themselves in a situation very similar to a birth parent in a domestic adoption.  They get to choose the family who will adopt their embryos through a mutual selection process, and they get to specify what kind of adoption plan they want to write; open, closed, or anywhere in between. 

To adoptive parents, embryo adoption is unique in that the mama gets to carry her baby in her womb.   When the baby is born, the adoptive parents are the only names on the birth certificate.  Legally speaking, the genetic parents have no claim to any baby born after the embryos transfer hands.

So what does the process look like for us?

First, we complete a home study.  Our home study is the exact same study that would be completed for a domestic or international adoption, with the same costs.  After we have a completed home study, we will create a family profile to be shown to genetic families.  From there, it’s a mutual selection process.  Genetic families will be shown our profile, and if they choose us, their family/embryo profile will be sent to us.  In essence, we’ll choose each other.  Once a match has been made, the legal paperwork is completed regarding the adoption of the embryos, and we make arrangement to have them shipped to our fertility clinic OR we can travel to them.  It takes about two months to prep my body for a frozen embryo transfer, and a day for the FET to take place.  All in all, it’s a 5-13 month process to transfer day, and then….9 months to deliver a baby. 

Like I said, our heart are incredibly tender to embryo adoption.  In fact, the agency we are adopting through is the same agency we had planned to use should anything have happened to me/us and I hadn’t been able to go back for all of our own babies.   We had a plan in place for their safety through adoption, and now we find ourselves on the other side of the table. 

The obvious fear with embryo adoptions is that the embryos wouldn’t attach.  That the FET wouldn’t be successful, and we’d walk away at the end of the process with empty arms.  We aren’t naïve to that risk; we’ve been there before.  But God has so clearly and swiftly set our feet upon this path, and we are eager to walk each step with Him as He leads us to baby Tucker.  We are believing in expectation that God will be faithful each step of the way.   

I've long believed that one way God ministers to me in my own life is through music.  Truly.  In some of the biggest valleys of my life, God has spoken to and delivered hope and reassurance to my soul through song.  There are a handful of songs that bring me to tears in an instant; because they remind me of times that God clearly used them to speak to me.  The day after we found out we'd lost the twins, I was driving in my car as the song "Fix My Eyes" came on the radio.  I'm sure I must have heard it dozens of times before, but that day I really listened to the words, and this is what I heard: 
Hit rewind, click delete
Stand face to face with the younger me
All of the mistakes
All of the heartbreak
Here's what I'd do differently, I'd

Love like I'm not scared
Give when it's not fair
Live life for another
Take time for a brother
Fight for the weak ones
Speak out for freedom
Find faith in the battle
Stand tall but above it all
Fix my eyes on You
On You

I learned the lines and talked the talk
But the road less traveled is hard to walk
It takes a soldier
Who knows his orders
To walk the walk I'm supposed to walk

We're on it, Lord.  We're fixing our eyes on You.  This road is hard, and we're afraid of all the what ifs.....but Tucker?  So worth it.