Donald Trump, Jr., You Are Needed For Detention

I know, y’all. 

I said I wasn’t going to write a political blog again. And I’m not. 

This is personal. 

For a little background, I’m sure the vast majority of you reading this know that while I’m a stay-at-home mama to my beautiful baby (ok, FINE. toddler…) boy, I used to be a teacher. 

A public school teacher. 

A proud public school teacher. 

I will spare you my thoughts  (again) on this mess (to put it nicely) of an election. However, the son and “advisor” of the Replibican nominee said the following during the spectacle that was the RNC. This is a direct quote:

“Our schools used to be an elevator to the middle class, now they’re stalled on the ground floor. They’re like Soviet-era department stores that are run for the benefit of the clerks and not the customers, for the teachers and the administrators and not the students. You know why other countries do better on K through 12? They let parents choose where to send their own children to school.”

Wait, what? Did that really come out of Donald Trump, Jr.’s mouth?

Sure enough, it did. (Full disclosure: A fellow educator that I’ve never met summed up her thoughts so well here, and she inspired me to do the same.)

Did you hear that teachers? Administrators?

While you buy extra school supplies for a room full of kids you haven’t even met yet, instead of buying a new book for your own child, it is for you and not the students. 

When you use your “whole summer off” to attend inservices about all of the newest acronyms and assessments the district or government is requiring you to do, it is for you and not the students

When you’re not at an inservice, but instead you’re analyzing every square inch of your classroom on a sunny, summer day to figure out how learning is going to be best achieved, it is for you and not the students. 

My home away from home for a long time


While dropping your class off for lunch and you have a student approach you in tears because she forgot her lunch, so you find some cash in your wallet or, if you don’t have any, you give her yours, it is for you and not the students. 

When you stay after school to help that one student finally figure out subtraction with regrouping, it is for you and not the students. 

When you take a pay cut to teach in your community rather than a few miles down the road for more money, it is for you and not the students. 

That’s right, you guys. It’s for your benefit. Just like that sales clerk in a Communist country that Junior mentioned. 

That’s the reason you leave at dark and get home at dark, why you cut coupons to make ends meet, why you sometimes cry on your drive home because the world’s expectations are on your shoulders, why you sometimes cry on your drive home because you just want to take some of “your kids” home with you and feed them, read to them, LOVE THEM because you know they don’t get quite enough. 
Right?

Of course not. 

You do it because despite all that I’ve mentioned, you somehow can’t imagine doing anything else but serving these children and their families. Even with the  high responsibility but low pay. Even with the high expectations but low recognition.

Mr. Trump, do you want to know the real reason other countries “do better?”

It’s because here in American public schools, we take them all. 

Learning disabilities? Welcome!

English language-learners? Welcome!

Low-income? Welcome!

Homeless? Welcome! 

Already have thirty kids in a small classroom but you’ve just moved here? Welcome! 

The students may not score better, but we, the teachers and administrators, DO better. 

Class dismissed. 

From an Apple on My Desk to the Apple of My Eye

Dear Mrs. S,

Let me introduce myself. My name is Luke’s Mom. I go by another name too, but it’s all I’m seemed to be known by now, not that I’m complaining.

I haven’t been around long, but it’s hard to remember a time when I didn’t exist.

You, however, have been around for over four years now. Really, it’s been over five years if you count that first year when you went by Miss G.

(You’re still trying to not go into the fetal position when you think that those kids that remember you as that are now seventh graders).

When I was a little girl, I always wanted to be you. An elementary school teacher with an endless supply of Expo markers, boxes of Crayola crayons in a bright-colored tub, your own reading rug and rocking chair to read stories to children and change your voice to different characters, your own bulletin boards to decorate, your own class to lead down the hallway while having eyes on the back of your head, and even your own papers to grade with your multi-colored pens.

And, thank the Lord, I got to be you these past few years and it’s been a great joy of my life. You have met friends that will be lifelong, taught students who will change the world, and grown into a profession that’s become a passion.

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But that little girl you were wanted to be something even more than the teacher with the polka-dot dress and colorful lanyard.

You wanted to be a Mommy.

A Mama who was able to stay at home.

We’re going through a transition right now, sister. One you’ve prayed would arrive and wondered if God would grant the desires of your heart. And praise Him, He did! One where your husband crunched numbers and you saved up together to allow my dream of staying home to happen. And praise Him again, it has!

It’s a beautiful and joyful transition.

But can I let you in on a little secret?

It’s also a little bittersweet, too.

Don’t you think I’m complaining. I am so grateful to be here and to see you step away for a while.

While you have some friends that don’t understand why you would want to, you have many friends who would love to be at home, but can’t for their own reasons right now. It doesn’t make me any better of a mom and them any less of one.

(On a side note, I will guard what I say on social media. Because you know what a tired teacher who is also the mama to a sweet baby doesn’t want to hear? How tired I am. Newsflash: So are they, but they have to get up in the morning and wear dress pants. You can stay in pajamas).

Much like teaching, there’s nothing that can prepare you to be a mom until you actually are one. College courses and labor classes are one in the same. Helpful information, but once you hold that baby, much like once you stand in front of that first class, you realize you really know nothing.

But that teaching thing? You felt like you were (finally) getting into your groove.

And don’t think I haven’t noticed you.

The school supply sales are full throttle, and it’s all you can do to not pick up a few boxes of Crayola (for those kids who inevitably bring in RoseArt), a few extra Elmer’s gluesticks, and some bulletin board border for a fresh start.

On Sunday morning? When the pastor asked for all the teachers to stand so they could be prayed over? Well, you felt a little out-of-place as you remained sitting (until you bolted for that colleague down the aisle to pray over her. I know that was all you).

You’ve been seeing all sorts of ideas on Pinterest that make your teaching imagination come alive with cross-curricular activities, how you’d design your classroom this year, and all the little stations you’d have set up your Open House next Friday night.

You, in a cruel twist of fate, are even having school dreams again.

You’ve visited that second home of yours of the past five years a few times with friends as they set up their rooms and decorate their doors, and you’ve felt that twinge of, “Am I doing the right thing?”

I’m here to assure you.

You are.

God has made it clear that you are by how He’s provided when it didn’t make sense. He’s had this laid on your heart as long as you can remember.  You didn’t dream of the wedding and the dress, you dreamed of the husband and the family you’d hopefully have.

You can think back to when you were a very little girl and remember eating a Happy Meal with your Mom at McDonald’s on a random Monday, reading Bible stories on her bed, and taking walks around the block.

I want that too.

.

You see, I’m a little selfish. I want to see all the “firsts,” I want to be the one that calms Luke down when he cries in the middle of the day, the one who walks countless laps as he finally falls asleep on my shoulder, and the one who even changes those dirty diapers.

(Well, Daddy can do that too as he feels led).

It’s true, you loved seeing your name outside that classroom door, but one day you’ll see it again. There will be other classes for you to love, but there will never be this time of my life or his life again.

You knew the moment you found out I’d come around that you, Mrs. S., didn’t stand a chance.

Home is where I’m supposed to be.

You aren’t going too far though, as you tutor some sweet kiddos once school cranks up. So, don’t go throwing away those flashcards and file folder games just yet. You’ll get to keep your second love close to your heart, just on a much smaller scale.

Oh, and that darling son of yours? Well, he’s going to need that creativity you loved using in your classroom. Show him the shapes as you build castles with blocks. Build a fort and stack it with books and a flashlight. Teach him the alphabet with a silly song. Practice your numbers with hopscotch and sidewalk chalk. Read one of your favorite books with a puppet on your arm.

You used to pray every morning on your short drive to work for many things, but you’d always include, “Let me be a light to my students and coworkers in my classroom and hallways.”

I promise to carry that light in this new phase of our lives together, even if it’s just the living room and hallway to the bedroom.

Thanks for all the wonderful memories, Mrs. S. It’s with a little tear in my eye but a smile in my heart to tell you that I promise to make the most special ones while you’re away.

– Luke’s Mom

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You Can Run, but You Can’t Hide (Except the RoseArt Supplies)

Y’all. You might want to sit down.

Target has their school supplies out.

Not even kidding, this was the exchange between the friendly Target associate and myself this morning:

(Me: Staring. Just staring at the supplies out).
Target Girl: “Umm, ma’am, can I help you find something?”
Me: “What? Oh… no thanks. I’m. just. looking.”

If you’re a teacher and you don’t feel a little bit of dread, then I won’t call you a liar… liar.  But there’s also a little bit of excitement at all the bright colors.

Here’s a few of the questions that roll through a teacher’s brain when the clearance stickers are on the summer gear and the stacks of notebook paper make their appearance.

Wasn’t it just May 31st and I literally danced down the hallway?

Did I not just turn in my lesson plan book?

How are school supplies already back out and I’ve only tried one Pinterest recipe?

If I was sitting at the pool, I would’ve never seen this.
If I just stayed home and watched HGTV, I would’ve never seen this.

Why are they selling RoseArt?
Don’t they know RoseArt crayons are basically just hot glue gun sticks, except that hot glue gun sticks put a little more color on paper?
Maybe if I hide all of the RoseArt supplies nobody will buy them.

Do I even have my school keys?

WHERE DID I PUT MY SCHOOL ID?

I have taken advantage of being able to use the restroom when I want.

Oh. Lunchboxes. Don’t remind me. My “WHAT’S IN THE PANTRY?!” lunches have worked out so well and require zero packing.

Why didn’t I do at least ONE craft I pinned on Pinterest?

At the same time, these thoughts are bouncing around that teacher’s brain too:

Everything is so new and pretty!

LOOK AT THAT AISLE OF CRAYOLA! It’s making me tickle-me-pink.

Those pencils are so sharp.
And with the original eraser.
And without teeth marks.

Colored pens. I’m not sure if I have that shade of purple. And it’s got a grip!My husband won’t mind if I go ahead and buy a few. After all, it’s FOR THE CHILDREN.

That would look just darlin’ laminated.

Oh my. THESE CLOTHESPINS FIT MY COLOR SCHEME.

Those full bottles of Germ-X. The scent of the classroom.

Look at those lunchboxes. A new lunchbox would change my pb & j outlook.
Right?

SHARPIES.

I saw someone use a a composition book, brads, and five different colors of construction paper on Pinterest.
I’ll go ahead and get them.
I know me, I’ll totally do that Pinterest project.

It’s a backpack bag of mixed emotions.

Ultimately, the new school supplies represent a new year full of possibilities and potential. But they also represent that our days are numbered, friends.

Enjoy these last few weeks!

 

P. S. Aloe Vera Is On Your Nightstand

Dear Lacey,

Hi. This is Mrs. S. You wrote to me a couple of months ago, and I thought I should only return the favor.  You see, my dark circles are slowly disappearing and I SUDDENLY HAVE TIME.

Let me fill you in the on the past couple of months. I reviewed my heart out. I celebrated when my kiddos remembered what I had taught. I grimaced when they didn’t. I remembered they were six and seven years old and just sang Let It Go to myself let them serenade me in Let It Go.

(Even when I didn’t ask for it).

(This was 100% of the time).

(The repetition never bothered me anyway).

I “decorated” my classroom walls with paper so they didn’t see a word that might (!) be on the test. I got my groove on with some awesome colleagues and clapped along like a room without a roof. I pepped the kids to the best of my choreographed dancing ability.

(I am still trying to figure out what an “8 count” is and that may explain my lack of rhythm in certain parts of said dance).

I laughed at the notion that there’s no prayer in schools (I am sure God was hearing silent prayers from many teachers that included the words “strength,” “stamina,” “patience,” and “common sense for our future legislators.”).

I remembered on the second day of testing to wear more comfortable shoes.

I survived and thrived.

(We’ll see about the thriving part later in summer).

And then I celebrated with my kids the next day  and joined in the chorus of, “LEEETTT IIITTTTTT GOOOOO!” at the top of our lungs.

Couldn’t keep it in, Heaven knows I tried.

Then, there was May. All. of. May.  However, it was fun time of field trips, Field Day, and singing along to the piano rendition of My Heart Will Go On at the Talent Show. Actually, that may have just been me, considering my class wouldn’t be born until TEN YEARS AFTER THAT MOVIE CAME TO THEATERS. I’m just going to leave that be before I am in the fetal position with my Senior Yearbook.

My class practiced writing by trying to persuade me that our classroom should be on the beach.

(I didn’t take much persuading).

We did some crafts (!!), used Sharpies to practice Math one day (most! exciting! day! ever!), worked on our writing, used our math tools, read for practice and for fun, and practiced writing neatly because their second grade teacher would only let them write neatly.

And then I found out… I will be their second grade teacher.

They won’t be able to tell me they have never heard of an adjective.

Pressure’s on, kids (and me since they all came back saying they’ll have me — super glad, truly- they are a wonderful class)!

All of this to say, you are taking over, Lacey. My alarm clock is off. Well, you actually have an inservice on your first day of Summer, but that’s okay, you can wear a t-shirt and shorts (and not dress pants, hallelujah).

Funny Seasonal Ecard: 'The summer is going by so slow,' said no teacher ever.

Here is what I want you to do.

Correction. Here is what I NEED you to do.

Ready for it?

Relax.

Relax. Relax. Relax.

Despite what everyone-who-is-not-involved-in-education says, you do not have three months off. You have about 6 weeks, once you take away inservice days and planning.

Now, don’t get me wrong. That is a huge, huge perk of your job. But I’m going to tell you something you don’t hear very often:

You deserve it.

You’ve earned it.

Your friends are not in the education field. They don’t know. They don’t see it.

They don’t see the hugs you give to the child who didn’t eat breakfast that morning, so you dig in your drawer for some crackers.
They don’t see the hours you pour over data trying to figure out why your students didn’t make the gains they should’ve.
They don’t see the moments of joy when they make they gains they shouldn’t have.
They don’t see you teaching first-graders possessive nouns (that alone earns the summer break).
They don’t see you working on carefully-worded emails to a child’s parents letting them know how their child is struggling, but you know that child is their whole world. So you hit backspace, rewrite, retype, and try to follow the “Golden Rule” you preached to your children on the playground hours before.

You and your colleagues and students have earned this time off. So here’s a few ideas to fill your time:
Read a book that doesn’t include an educational acronym.
Eat a lunch that doesn’t have to be scarfed down in 20 minutes while grading papers.
Enjoy the outdoors without having to solve who stole who’s basketball.
See friends who sadly go on the backburner because you are just dog-tired at the end of school day (and that’s not at 2:30).
Cook dinner that doesn’t involve the microwave (well, at least the majority of the meal, let’s not overreach here) because you actually have the energy.

This time off will slip by, but I know you. You are going to get your new classroom set up and pin all kinds of awesome things for the new school year to try. Some you will do, and some you’ll look at on August 1st and say, “Oh, that was cute that I thought I’d have the time for that.”

But that’s okay, do those things too. Because before you get bogged down with everything else, you are reminded why you love teaching children.  You love preparing for them, planning for them, and dreaming for them. Do those too, but don’t overdo it.

Enjoy June and July. Because we all know the month of August will be here too soon.

And it’s only approximately 342 days long.

Isn’t that how long “ALL YOUR TIME OFF” is, anyways?

Take care of yourself for me.

– Mrs. S

P. S. Chocolate Is In The Bottom, Left Drawer

Dear Mrs. S,

Hi, I am Lacey, the side of you that can still sleep in until 10 in the morning, wears pajamas later than I should, and actually watches The Tonight Show now since (my pretend biffle) Jimmy Fallon took over.

I am wrapping up a fabulous Spring Break. I didn’t leave my hometown, but that’s okay. It was needed. I caught up on some mighty fine television and also a few chores. I cooked three (!) Pinterest recipes. I got reacquainted with my summer love, Aloe Vera, after getting fried on that particularly warm March Day. I remembered why the Lord invented sunscreen. I attended a wedding of a high school friend (and cried marveled that it’s been eight years since I graduated). I actually read a book that didn’t mention anything education or Dr. Seuss related.  I kissed some friends’ darling babies, hugged said friends and other girls I love, and I even made a scrapbook.

Well, I uploaded photos onto Walgreens’ website. And clicked order.  Then, I drove down the road to pick up my lovely photobook that I tirelessly assembled by clicking and dragging for at least fifteen minutes.

But that totally counts in my (scrap)book. That way, my future children will be able to see their Daddy’s total joy when it came to posing for a selfie when waiting for a table at O’Charley’s in 2013.

I’m about to go away during the daytime, and you, Mrs. S, are going to take back over.  And to be honest, you’re feeling a little glum about school starting back. Granted, a large chunk of this is due to the alarm clock blaring at dark-thirty in the morning.

But that’s not all of it.

Not because you don’t love your students (or your coworkers). In fact, they’re what motivate you to get out of bed and face the day.

A day that (can) consist of continuous reminders that sometimes your good is just not good enough. Not through people you love’s words, but by people outside your classroom walls. Your school walls. People making changes to your profession that you once couldn’t wait to be a part of, but now you are asking yourself if it was worth all your effort. People that have never stepped foot into a classroom other than to make an appearance during an election year. Or sometimes people who have, but haven’t in years. People who have forgotten that students are human beings, not a number.

(The same goes for teachers, by the way).

A lot has changed in even those short four years you’ve been the leader in that classroom.

But one thing hasn’t. The kids.

So, this is my reminder to you. My plea. Enjoy those children. These next nine weeks are the most stressful, but also the most fun. Get through the rest of March and April. These next few weeks are the most grueling of the year, but you’ll soon be able to say you survived. Take it one day at a time.  Work hard everyday to prepare those children for tests that you may not agree with, but that are your responsibility to make sure they are prepared.

Speaking of, be an advocate for your kids and your profession. When the opportunity arises to speak, do so.  With passion. With respect. And with those first graders in mind.

Make it as fun as you can. Take brain breaks. Explain why they missed questions in review (because they will miss questions, despite you teaching it 290 different ways and times). Better yet, have them explain why they missed it. Make sure they are learning. Those tests are important, but if they’re just memorizing, you’re doing a disservice to those kiddos (and the Second Grade teachers will come hunt you down).

After those tests are behind you, keep learning, but add some things in that you just couldn’t squeeze as much of before now.  Do science experiments. Make scavenger hunts. Read a story (or – get this – two stories). DO  A CRAFT! Spend time on writing for fun, not a score.  Celebrate good behavior. Give a hug as they are dismissed each day. But soak in these last few days with this class.

Remember that these first graders will be fifth graders before you know it. Your very first class that knew you as “Miss Greene” is moving on to middle school this summer. And every time you see them, you become a Ma-Maw thinking, “They grow up so fast.”

These first graders will too. And they’ll forever remember you as their first grade teacher. Let it be a memory that they’ll treasure.

And while not teaching those youngins, keep your spirit up. Keep dancing with those colleagues that have become your close friends on Friday afternoons. Have date nights with your husband. Balance. Allow yourself two days of the week to stay late(ish), but no more than that. Have yourself ready to teach those babies the next day, and the rest will be there.  Keep school (physical supplies but emotional feelings too) at school.

Except when (more) new legislation is passed affecting your job and/or your salary. Then, you may totally vent your frustrations to your husband. And eat a bowl of ice cream as you vent.

To thrive as a teacher you need three bones: A wish bone, A backbone and A funny bone.

Most importantly, keep saying a prayer on your way to school each morning. Pray that you will be a light to your students and your coworkers.  Pray that your students will feel safe and loved.  Pray that your patience will remain on the toughest days.  Pray that you will give grace like you’ve been given. You will not always succeed at this, but that’s why you pray for forgiveness too.

OH, and please change your school desktop wallpaper back to the beach. That snowman is SO last season.

You’ve got this. See you after school, weekends, and in nine weeks when Summer Break begins!

(I know you’re not counting, but just in case),

Lacey

Snow My Gosh

Dear Snow,

Allow me to (re)introduce myself. Hi. My name is Lacey.

We used to be great friends. Oh, we played with sleds, we built snowmen full of grass and mud. We listened to the SnowBird theme as we drifted off to sleep.

Then, you apparently made it your 2014 resolution to stay North or even FURTHER SOUTH than Tennessee. And look, I don’t blame you.  It revels in all its landlocked glory. I, too, like to escape to the beach at least once per year. So I feel ya.

But this is getting out of hand.

I feel like we are never, ever, ever getting back together.

I teach first grade. I love those kiddos, and I truly think they love me. However, by one o’clock in the afternoon, we are ready for some SEPARATION.

(Real talk: If I am with my husband since 7 a.m., by one o’clock we both need some space, too).

Separation that requires running all those wiggles out, saying screaming all those whispers, and getting some much-needed Vitamin D.

Tennessee has had below-freezing temperatures for WEEKS ON END, which is your favorite kind of weather, Snow. But, you see, I can’t go outside with my young’ins in that weather. Yet, you are nowhere to be found.

However, as soon as we reach a balmy THIRTY-FOUR DEGREES, your buddy precipitation shows.

And you? Well, you arrive.

As.

Cold.

Hard.

Rain.

All the while, students and teacher look longingly out the window and think “Oh, the blizzard this would be.”

Now, I don’t want my friends who see you in forecast and worry that they’re risking their lives to get to work. Just enough for me to cash in on those snow days that my friends and I go thirty bonafied extra minutes per day to earn (and feel no shame in gloating when they happen, sorry (not sorry) y’all).

Oh, and by the way, I see you long-range forecasts. Shame on you if you fool me once, shame on me if you fool me for the 256th time.

Bottomline: If you don’t show up on my cul-de-sac soon (SATURDAY MORNINGS do not count, by the way. Nice try last week)., I’m going to need to ask your cousin Mr. Freeze to stay away until December.

And while I’m at it, I better get a white Christmas out of this mess next year.

Snow-tally over it,

Lacey

I’ve been thinking of one word a lot lately.

No, it’s not queso.

(I already soaked up that $4.00 goodness at dinner the other night).

The word is actually acceptance.

Let me give a little backstory. The other day in class, one of my students corrected me on something that I wish I could remember now, but it escapes me (but I’d venture to say it had a turkey on it).

Now, some teachers would be super embarrassed about it, especially since I’m the teacher of first-graders. However, I jump at those opportunities. You want to make a six year-old feel like he is a king? Have him prove his teacher.  I said something to the effect of, “Thanks for teaching me!”

His look of awe is one I try to keep in mind during the rough days, followed by, “You mean I taught YOU something?!”

All the time.  In fact, there’s some days – and I kinda hate to say it – that the kids teach me more, than I probably teach them.

Last Wednesday was one of those.

One sweet girl in my class can be best summed up as to know her is to love her.  If you know anything about Junie B. Jones, she is that book character come to life. Tries her best, but can frustrate you to pieces, yet somehow after teaching your heart out with her, she always ends up making you laugh without trying.

Well, while checking folders last Wednesday morning, I got to hers.  She came in a little late, and I told her “Good Morning” without looking up, as she began to unpack.

I opened up her folder and a note from her mother fell out.  It informed me that she decided to cut quite a bit of her own hair at home (like I said, Junie. B. Jones.), and they tried their best to mend it, but in her words, “It’ll have to take time to grow out.” Her mom explained that she was feeling very self-conscious and emotional about it, so to kinda keep my eyes and ears open.

You know, kids get a bad reputation. The media paints them all as bullies, technology-entranced, and self-entitled.  And if I am being completely honest, I can occasionally fall into that trap.  I did on Wednesday. I was already mentally preparing how I’d handle it when (not if) this sweet girl got her feelings hurt by “kids being kids.”

Well.

I didn’t want to bring extra attention to the situation, so I didn’t say anything as she began to walk to her table.  This is always a quiet part of the day, so it was easy to listen in on any conversation that I just knew would take place. After all, I’m the teacher, right?

I watched as the kids, of course, looked as she went to her seat.

And I watched as she sat down, pretending to be very focused, but I could practically see her analyzing the looks coming towards her.

Just as I was about to open my big mouth to give a casual reminder that one of our rules is to be kind to others, I stopped.

And I watched.

And I listened, without reminding them to be quiet during morning work.

You know what I heard from her classmates?
Did you get a haircut? It looks great!

I like your headband!

I really like your haircut!

And you know what I saw from this sweet girl?

Her shoulders eased.

She leaned back.

And she gave a huge smile.

They were kids being kids. And let me tell you, nothing will make me prouder of them than that moment last week. Not a test result, a quiet line, or writing all their letters/numbers the correct way and neatly (but that may come a close second).

We all hear these same questions in our head at some point(s) during our lives:

Did she mean to ignore me when I walked by?
Were those whispers followed a laugh about me?
What are they going to think of my outfit? My haircut?

You can be six years-old, or ninety-six, it doesn’t matter. We all have felt unaccepted, whether we admit to it or not. And we especially won’t admit that we’ve been the cause for some of those feelings, too.

I’ve been there and still revisit that hurtful place, every now and then. And I know some friends who are going through it now, and feel like their good is never good enough.

Let me tell you. It is.

And let me tell you why.

Because Jesus Christ, who lived the perfect life, accepts you for who you are.

Bad haircut and all.

Temper and all.

Insecurity and all.

He even loved you enough to die for you.

Every morning on my short drive to school, I say a little prayer in the car.  I always end it by asking God to let me be a light for others, for my students, and for my coworkers.  And my friends will tell you I do better some days than others.

My kiddos, on that Wednesday morning, were the light of Jesus to that little girl, even though His name wasn’t said and can’t be taught.  Some of them may not even know Him, but I pray that I and their classmates that do will show the grace and acceptance we’ve been given.

You know, kids being kids. And teaching their teacher a very valuable lesson in the process.

Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. – Romans 15:7

You will never influence the world by trying to be like it.