Hi. My Name is Sam, and I...

This week we were challenged by a great speaker (Joe Coles) to write down our "why".  Why do we teach? Why do we do what we do?  What keeps us coming back for more when things get tough.  For me, this is two-fold.  I could easily list names.  I could list names of students who graduated and went on to do amazing things with their lives when the odds were stacked against them.  I could list names of students who touched my heart with kindness, took time to say thank you, or even let me know that the appreciated the effort I put into teaching them.  Students, after all, are the reason that any teacher teaches.

I have always wanted to teach.  Teaching runs in my family.  My grandpa was a teacher and administrator, as was my dad.  My grandmother and aunt were teachers and librarians.  My stepmom is a middle school teacher, and we all know that there is a special place in heaven for middle school teachers.  Teaching is what I know.  School was another home to me.  But you see, I have a confession to make.  My name is Sam, and in 8th grade I could not tell a subject from a verb.  Shocking, I know.  I could write a sentence, and it made sense, but I could not tell you what essential elements or parts of speech were used to do so.  Everyone else in my class could.  E.v.e.r.y.o.n.e.

So, "why" do I teach?  Because I felt dumb.  I felt dumb, but I was fortunate enough to have a crazy teacher named Ms. Jewell who loved what she did and loved us.  She used fluorescent chalk to diagram sentences, and we all giggled when she turned to write on the board because she usually had two handprints on her butt from the chalk dust.  She was loud.  She gave major and minor quizzes that could make a grown man cry.  She also knew I had no clue what I was doing.  She knew that I would require a little extra time and extra patience.  She also knew that I could do it.  I spent hours after school in her room and in Mrs. McAtee's room drilling and killing subjects and verbs.  And you know what?  I did it.  If I couldn't understand it one way, Ms. Jewell found another.  By the end of the year, I could write a compound-complex sentence, and diagram it.  By the end of the year, I was caught up with the rest of my class.  She believed in me, and I realized that I wasn't dumb.  (I might also add that she gave me my first-ever detention for...not doing my English homework...gasp!)

So "why" do I teach?  Because I felt success.  I felt success as a sophomore in Mr. Manes's class.  I remember my parents coming home from parent-teacher conferences, you know back when parents went to conferences, and I remember my dad telling me that Mr. Manes said I had a knack for writing -- that it seemed to come natural.  Me?  The same person who couldn't tell a subject from a verb?  Mr. Manes's class was fun.  He was not your typical "English" teacher.  He was a former football coach who loved Shakespeare and Medieval literature.  He cracked us up with his corny jokes, praised us for a job well done, and called us out when we were acting stupid or lazy.  (And I quote, "Well, you are either stupid or lazy, and you can't fix stupid, so which is it?)  He unlocked the English language for me by teaching etymology, word parts and origins, and I began to see patterns within our own language that I never knew existed.   Mr. Manes is the reason that I learned how to write essays.  He made me write, rewrite, revise, and rewrite again.  He pushed me to better.  Heck, because of him I still remember that you should never start a sentence with a number -- missed that twice on my research paper, and it still stings a bit.  He expected my best work, nothing less.

So why do I teach?  Because these two teachers busted their tails for me, and I owe it to them to pay it forward.  It's that simple.  I teach so that maybe, just maybe, a few of my students feel a little less dumb and a little bit of success.  I could not tell a subject from a verb, and now I teach it.  Because of them.

(I might also add that I still have my 8th grade English notes in all their glory with the dividers and whole protectors - don't judge me.  They are my Holy Grail of Grammar.)
__________

Also, if you feel like reading more, I have some pretty neat colleagues who blog:  Andrew Bauer and Jason Kohls.  Yeah, they're pretty neat.

Top 10 Lessons I Want My Children to Learn (Really All Children)

I've had writers block.  I've been stuck.  I feel like all I ever do is write about my kids, and while some day I will be glad I took the time to do so, I am currently in the longest summer of my professional life, at home, with two kids, so I want something fun and exciting to write about because I am starting to miss teaching. I mean no one wants to read about how my one-year-old beats up his older brother and already gets time-outs, and then laughs (we are in big trouble folks).  Or how I loathe going to sleep because I know that one of them will be waking me up shortly.  Or how my son tells me that I am the prettiest mommy ever.  Sigh.

So, I tweeted about not having anything to write about. My friend and colleague Andrew Bauer also blogs. (You should read his blog. He's smart. And funny.  And real.)  He suggested I try a "Top 10" list.  So here it is.  And it does involve my children.

Top 10 Lessons I Want My Children to Learn (Really All Children):

10. Know the difference between there, they're and their.  It's like I tell my students - there comes a time when ignorance is no longer bliss.  There comes a time when you have to, as I tell my students, check your "give-a-crap-o-meter" and decide if you want to sound educated or stupid.  You only get one first impression, so say it, write it, text it, tweet it correctly.  People are watching and they are forming opinions about you based on what you say and do. The excuse, "I never can remember which to, two, or too is correct no longer works."  For goodness sakes, you have a computer at your fingertips.  Use it.

9. Get involved.  You will get out of life what you give.  You will find what you look for in others.  Nothing chaps my hide more than hearing high school girls say, "I don't like high school girls because all they do is start drama."  Usually a look in a mirror and some self-reflection points out that those who think there is drama are in the thick of it.  

8. Love your siblings.  Brothers and sisters are the link to our past and they will be with us long into the future if we are lucky.  The older I get, the more important it is for me to be connected to my brothers and sister.  I love what each of them brings to my life.  My sister, she knows my soul.  She is a mother and wife.  I am a mother and wife.  We "get" each other in ways that my brothers do not because, let's face it, they are boys.  She was in the hospital room when my first son was born. She is the person I look forward to traveling with, to big cities, foreign countries. We shared a room together growing up, it only seems fitting to continue sharing hotel rooms and adventures as we get older.  My brother Ben, well we have not always agreed.  Divorce can do some horrible things to families at times, but it can also help us to see that family is what really matters.  Ben and I have fought.  We have cried.  We have laughed so hard it hurt.  He has given me "raindrops" until I can't breathe.  But I'll tell you one thing, despite it all, I know he will be here for me any day, any time; all I have to do is call.  My brother Bud - he has always been my constant supporter, and I his.  He is always excited for me, happy for me, or even sad with me.  I remember Bud going to games, even though he knew the chances that I (the resident bench-warmer) would play was slim to none.  But he was there.  He would play basketball left-handed to make it "even" for me because he knew that if the tables were turned, I would do the same for him.  I am so blessed to have these three in my life.  We are busy.  We don't see each other often enough, but they are the link to my past and the hope for my future.  Sons, you only have one brother.  Love each other.

7. Find five really good friends.  I was never the popular kid.  I wasn't unpopular.  I just...was.  At times I really struggled with friendships, and I remember that my dad told me when I was his age, if I could count five really good friend, who would be there for me in a heartbeat and keep my secrets safe, then I was a lucky person.  What is crazy is that I did not meet some of those people until I became an adult.  It is important to take risks with your heart, to make new friends, to grieve the loss of friendships that fade away.  But those special friends, those soul mates, hold on to them.  Treat them like family because one day you will need them in ways that family cannot fill.

6. No one is going to die and leave you $1,000,000.  This is another saying my dad used to tell me this ALL.OF.THE.TIME (I am not sure if you can see me banging my head against the wall or rolling my eyes which was my typical response when he said these words).  I HATED THIS SAYING AS A CHILD, but boy was my dad ever right! I may not have much, but there is pride in knowing that I earned what I do have.  No one has given me a "handout" or a free pass.  I have never won the lottery.  What I have done is taken opportunities that have been given to me.  I have made sure that I keep all of my options open.  One of the saddest realizations as a teacher is knowing that many students close the door on their life at 16-years-old before it was every really opened to them.  I fight that battle every day - keep your doors open because sons; your mother is a teacher, and your father is a factory worker.  We definitely won't die and leave you  $1,000,000. You've got to earn it.  

5.  Eat dinner at the table.  Our lives are going to be busy.  Jam-packed.  But we will make time for each other.  We will eat as a family when time allows.  We will pray together.  Laugh together.  Talk about our days' work.      

4. Respect your body.  That belly-button ring at 19 -- not so smart.  The tattoo at 21 -- meh.  The stretch marks after having 2 children, now those are some marks to be proud of.  I am learning a little too late that I only have one body, and I must take care of it.  

3. Fail miserably.  It seems that more and more parents are afraid of this word -- failure.  Sons, I want you to fail.  In high school chemistry, I failed (and cried through) every test, just ask your Aunt Jen.  I was so mad at the teacher because for once in my life the way I had always done things wasn't working.  So I studied, I memorized, I called my teacher at home to ask questions.  I spent 2 hours every Saturday retaking tests until I could EARN an A.  And my parents, they let me fail.  They let me fail because they knew that I understood that it was my job to take care of the problem.  I knew that my parents had high expectations of me; however, my expectations for myself were higher.  I want you to fail so that you know how bitter it tastes to lose and how sweet it is to win.  Make mistakes, and learn from them.  Only one man is perfect.

2. Know I love you.  There is nothing that you can say or do that will make me not love you.  I may want to wring your little neck, but I will love you.  I may not always support your decisions, but I will love you.  That's my job.  Take some chances.  Disagree with me.  Make me proud.  But know I will always love you.

1. Know that Jesus loves you.  God sent His son to die for our sins.  For us.  But you see, the biggest misunderstanding about Jesus is that Jesus IS love.  He loves us at our worst.  Don't be fooled -- there are some ugly Christians out there, who judge and treat others poorly.  Jesus, he loved others. So, love each other.  Let others see Jesus's love through your actions.  I pray that I can show you the kind of love that God has for us - one of discipline and one of grace.