Deep Breath

It's time. I made it through the first half of my first year of teaching. The students went home early for Christmas break yesterday and today I worked solo in my classroom taking down posters, rearranging furniture, and getting my filing system back in order. Also, I submitted my grades electronically. It was a quiet and peaceful day. Every now and then, I'd look up, grin and say, "Yes, it's good to be a teacher!" There's just something about me being productive in an empty classroom that sits right. It feels good, like home.

Last night, Ed and I went to the faculty Christmas party at the old-cigarette-smoke-smellin' American Legion Hall. The place was decked out with twinkly lights, fiber optic trees, and a pile o' gifts. We arrived late and stood there, helplessly. Neither one of us is a "mingler." Finally Wilma, the assistant principal, spied our predicament and came over to introduce us to her husband. What a nice woman. When it came time to sit down at the folding tables, everyone else had clumped up with the people they were going to spend the evening with. Ed and I took seats at a table covered with a sheet of gold plastic and had dinner, catered Italian, with Mary and Dwayne. Mary is the literacy coach at school. We had a nice chat over lasagne, then they took off. Janice, one of the reading teachers, joined us, but our table seemed a bit spare all the same. We played some games, including a version of name that tune with songs that must have been popular in the past 15 years I haven't been listening to the radio. There was a scavenger hunt and everyone got to choose a gift from the pile. I ended up with a stocking of peanut butter cups and liquor miniatures. I think my "trailer park" pal Tim Sexton was responsible for that. Disappointed? I guess. I couldn't help thinking how the night might have turned out differently if we'd arrived earlier and insinuated ourselves into one of the tight, little noisy groups around us. But, well, maybe not. We are Dinner Party People, Ed and I, but not Party People.

The evaluation with Wilma went well, by the way. She and Lynne think I "really know" my subject matter. What I don't tell them is it takes me twice as long to prepare because I have to teach myself about misplaced modifiers before I can credibly present the subject to my students. I can say that I feel more at ease in the classroom. These past few weeks, I've felt a discernible release of tension. Maybe it's just been the approaching break, but I haven't been as anxious, as tied in knots, and as fretful about how I'm preparing and what I'm doing. Putting my files together today (I've got two of the four drawers in the cabinet filled), I realized how much material I've covered. No wonder I'm beat! I've been working like a fiend these past months and it's time for a break.

I spent last Saturday grading semester tests. That was an up and down experience. On the "up" side, I had Elvis singing Christmas tunes on the stereo. (But I wonder why "Precious Lord" is on the Christmas album?) On the "down" side, I was amazed at how little my students had retained since the test was cumulative. Grading papers for me is, still, like a roller coaster ride: I'm always hanging on and hoping that they get each answer correct; I'm crushed when they miss the easy ones. One of the things I realized, and I probably knew but didn't do anything about beforehand, is that my students need to be taught explicitly how to study for a test. The test study guide I created, a lot of words few of the kids bothered to read, just wasn't a good idea for lower level middle school students. I say, shamefully, it was more like something you'd get in a freshman college class. Okay. So, part of the fault is mine, but I've been teaching long enough now to know that I can't take complete responsibility for what students learn or fail to learn. Can you believe I said that?

As I said at the beginning of this post, it's time for a break. Ed and I are going to the mountains next week. We've reserved a cabin at a state park in N GA and will take off on Monday morning. We are both looking forward to the R&R. When I come back, I'll start lesson planning for the new year . . . but I won't think about that yet.

Ed continues to work on our beautiful new home. Now, he is mudding and sanding in the kitchen and living room and yesterday spent the day climbing scaffolding like a monkey, mudding the 14 ft tall cathedral ceiling. All of his hard work is paying off. The house looks great and we are beginning to see the light of move in day sometime in early spring. We hope. Ed put up a lighted star in the room that will one day be our bedroom, and my family across the lake can see it every night. A star for hope, I guess.

Monday, Ed lumbered into the woods and came home with a cedar for our little living room here in the trailer. He had it set up and strung with lights and tinsel when I got home from work, and we spent a few hours unpacking decorations and dolling up the tree. It looks right jolly, though we've both had colds and can't smell it. What fun to unwrap ornaments and find treasures from years past -- a glass jester we purchased in New Orleans, a wooden Mountie jumping jack from Victoria B.C., the Mickey and Minnie ornament we purchased at Disneyland to celebrate our first Christmas together. Afterwards, we had cocoa and watched "The Polar Express," one of our new favorite Christmas movies. It may be difficult to get into the "Christmas spirit" when the weather outside is a frightful 75 degrees with high humidity, but we have plenty to be thankful for. Oh, yes.

This is the season of Advent. I never knew about Advent when I was growing up -- it just wasn't a part of my spiritual vocabulary -- but I think it has become my favorite season. Unlike Christmas, Advent resists commercialism. Advent is about anticipation and longing, not immediate gratification and gluttonous excess. It's the season that holds something back; instead of pushing and shoving itself into the limelight, Advent is content to wait quietly, to wonder, to hope, to pursue peace. It is the season of great hope because it's a quiet celebration of the birth of Christ and a reverent, fervent desire for his Coming Again. Advent looks both ways at once -- past and future -- and makes us realize that where we stand now, the present, is sacred space. Ed and I have been reading a short devotional each evening that focuses on this special season. Time to slow down, take a breath, prepare for Who and what will come.

We also sent out Christmas letters this week in what has become one of our annual traditions. It's always a revelation to me to sit back and think about all the things that have happened in the previous year. We have been so very blessed. Take a breath and enjoy the season.