26 March 2013
22 March 2013
It will come.
At the end of every winter, there is spring. On my first day of spring break, I slowed down in the morning to notice the daylight as it stretched through the window of my room. I thought about the assuredness of the sun rising each day, and the hope carried within each new morning. There is never any doubt that in the morning the sun will come up; we have unwavering faith in each day bringing a next. And at the end of each season, there is always something new.
Spring speaks to God’s promises… of new life coming after death, and beauty after suffering.
Sun through bare branches. |
“Let us acknowledge the LORD; let us press on to acknowledge
him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the
winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.” - Hosea 6:3
Even though it’s 20 degrees and doesn’t feel like spring,
there is faith that it will come. We know it will be here soon.
Light is coming. |
06 March 2013
Participating.
memories of summer travels : san fran. |
"We remember because we are no longer observers. I think that Jesus had in mind that we would not just be "believers", but "participants". Not because it's hip, but because it's accurate. He wanted people that got to the "do" part of faith; not because He wanted activity, but because He wanted our faith to matter to us."
:: Bob Goff, Storyline Blog
05 March 2013
On A Snow Day
The best possible news in the middle of the winter is the prospect of a snow day.
Unfortunately, in a city that is too well-equipped for snow, these days come few and far between. So after rising and diminishing hopes on three separate occasions for a snow day, it was only realistic (not pessimistic) to assume a No Snow Day today. After all, "potential" 6-10 inches is not the same as actual. And when I awoke at 4am to not a single snowflake fallen, I figured it was safe to assume l would be getting ready for school in a few hours.
But apparently, Chicago was crying out for a day to hunker down and stay inside. To my surprise, school was cancelled. And today I did everything I would want to do if I didn't have a regular, everyday job... long slow mornings with tea/journaling/reading, writing graduate essays, a walk and latte at Heritage coffee, a This American Life podcast on my way to the grocery, and then back home again. Sigh. If only everyday were a snow day.
But then I guess it wouldn't be as special.
snowy Newport street. |
Unfortunately, in a city that is too well-equipped for snow, these days come few and far between. So after rising and diminishing hopes on three separate occasions for a snow day, it was only realistic (not pessimistic) to assume a No Snow Day today. After all, "potential" 6-10 inches is not the same as actual. And when I awoke at 4am to not a single snowflake fallen, I figured it was safe to assume l would be getting ready for school in a few hours.
My favorite coffeeshop in the city. |
But then I guess it wouldn't be as special.
Bundle extreme. |
04 March 2013
Child Honesty
We have had 115 days of school, and sometimes I look at my class and wonder just how much they have learned. I know there is always more I could be doing to spark their curiosity & creativity. I struggle with creating the most engaging lessons and hands-on, natural materials, child-centered environment. To be honest - most of the time, I have no idea what they are taking home with them to their parents and if they are truly prepared for the next grade level at the end of the year.
And with the winter blues and the reliance on green tea and lack of sun, I start to wonder - am I really even good at this?!
As I was reading with a group of children the other day, another child in the class approached me asking for a band-aid. I put aside the slight frustration from the interruption and I did what I always do with Kindergarteners - take every scrape, cut, or bruise very seriously. I got him a band-aid, told him he was okay, gave him a hug, and prayed for him. As I went about this protocol, trying to give full attention to both the injured child and the other few reading, I noticed one of the readers had looked up from her book and was just staring at me. As I turned back to the group, she said: "Miss Goldstein, you're a really good teacher." I froze. (Regardless if it's actually true or not coming from a 5 year old is irrelevant...) In this moment I realized it's okay. This child didn't say that because I've provided the best color-coded lesson plans and advanced technology with top-of-the-line materials... she knew that her classmate was cared for in a time when he needed me, and for her, that was enough.
The children aren't prepared for life because of academics and awesome lessons, they don't walk away loving school because of all the interesting topics they've learned and facts they remember... they are ready for the next step when they know they are loved.
And that is the most important thing I can give as a teacher.
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