Tuesday, May 28, 2019

Changing of the seasons.

What a year of transition!  Transplantation. When I first named this blog many years ago, it was
because it seemed I was being transplanted - both literally and figuratively. Little did I know that was Just. The. Beginning.

Since that first Transplanted Gal blog post:

  • My parents sold their home and moved onto our land
  • We built our dream home and moved out of our little beloved cabin
  • Both sons married, one of them having the first EVER wedding on the property
  • Wildernest Ranch Bed & Breakfast, LLC became a reality
  • Our 3rd grandchild was born
  • We opened the B&B
  • Mike retired
  • Expansions to the business included an event venue and two precious tinies
  • After years of teaching English II, I switched to Culinary
  • Mike received a call and was offered his old position with Donaldson, except with less travel
  • We've witnessed 18 weddings at our property and venue, and countless parties & reunions
  • I turned in my final letter of resignation and made the decision to "come home" to run the business full-time
Friday was my last day with students as we finished final exams. I've taken all of my personal belongings home, cleaned out the culinary kitchen, have all of my student computers and other technology ready to turn back into Tech. I've finalized grades and printed out my last grade verification sheets, cleaned out my desk, and have begun saying my "see ya laters." 

Tomorrow at 1pm I will drive out of the faculty parking lot for the last time as a TEACHER.

If I've learned anything in my 50+ years of living and loving, it's that nothing stays the same. Changes are inevitable; some are grand and exciting - others leave you heartbroken and desolate. With each new season comes new challenges, new adventures, new discoveries, new realizations.

The past year has probably been one of the most challenging for me up to this point. I think I may have cried more in the past 12 months than I have my entire adult life. My heart has been ripped apart again and again as I've tried to support my brother (who I love SO very much) through the most difficult chapter of his personal life; but we've grown closer as a result.

Together we've witnessed our parents' new health issues, and are continually learning new ways to support and care for them has been heartbreaking at times; but our love for family and our intense desire for them to know we're here for them has only deepened and solidified.

We've celebrated with one set of kids as they announced a new pregnancy, and we're over the moon excited to become grandparents to the fourth grand buddy OR grand doll. Yet - at the very same time - we've mourned with another set of kids who are facing infertility issues, and - as a family - we've come closer to each other and to God as we trust Him to make them parents.

We've lost friends to death this year - more than I ever thought possible in one year. It's been almost surreal. From motorcycle accidents to cancer to heart attacks, so many lives we've been invested in have come to an end, claiming people who are so very special to our lives. Yet each time has driven us to our knees and only served to make us more aware of how precious every single moment of this life really is.

Time is fleeting, and each day must count.

But I know it must also be a balanced life.

I've learned what it means to work weeks on end without a "day off," between my role as a teacher and a B&B owner. I'm also learning that a power nap on the couch or an occasional marathon of a favorite show doesn't mean I'm letting things "slip."

I've experienced what it's like to drop so many balls in so many roles this past year that I've very often wondered if I was fit to do ANY job, let alone try to keep my arms around the ones I've had. Yet each of these roles have blessed our family, our home, our marriage, and my spirit. I've learned to go to bed early on those hard days and trust that tomorrow is a brand new day, with brand new chances to do better.

We've missed countless ball games, special events, and birthday parties of our grands because it has literally taken all of our time, energy, and resources to get the business where it is today. We can't get those time back nor can we make up for them, but we CAN now begin to make new memories. Like Friday night lights in Richardson come fall, trips to Austin for the new birth, being present for karate tournaments, birthday parties, and impromptu quick Dallas "turn-arounds" for dinner dates with our grown kids.

I've cried over the students I am saying good-bye to, over aspects of teaching that I will miss so very much, and even over the fact that I will no longer be classified as a TEACHER - a role I have been so proud and honored to carry.

Oddly enough, there were no tears today. There may be tomorrow; don't hold me to this statement:)! I recognize this next season and anticipate it. I know it will be full of moments that I expect, and maybe even more that I don't. I know there will much laughter, more tears, gains and losses.

I promise my family that I will smile more, hug tighter, laugh often, play with childlike abandon. I will work hard to continue to grow our business, but I'll put the business of family first. More living room picnics with my love, more Legos and coloring with George, more girls' trips with my mom and daughters-in-love, more cheering at games as Carter plays and Kendall cheers. More front porch conversations with my brother, and also with my sis-in-law, friends and neighbors. 

More church. More prayer. More Jesus than ever before.

Once more...

I'm a transplanted gal.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Sunday, May 19, 2019

To the Class of 2019

There are always students who make a year in the classroom memorable. But every once in a while you are privileged enough to have an entire class (okay, maybe minus a few:) that is truly remarkable. Those years are your golden ones, and make up for the long and endless ones! This class - the graduating Pewitt 2019 seniors are THAT class for me.

When you work for a small district, very often you have the opportunity to teach all kiddos in a grade level. I first taught these seniors when they were sophomores in my English classes. I taught every single sophomore, and what an amazing year it was! This post is dedicated to them. Never in my teaching career have I laughed more, cried more (for happy:) or grew more as an educator. The teacher got taught - in all the best possible ways.

I quickly realized this class was unique. They didn't really feel the normal pressure to "fit in" or to be just like their friends. Instead, they were (and still are) a group of individuals that support one another but set their own sail, confident in charting their own path. If you teach, you know this is rare, particularly in 10th graders.

This is the class that stretched me, challenged me, and inspired me. It was the year all of the hashtags began to impact us. (More on #hashtags in future post.) It was the year I put away my own agenda and began to teach in a brand new way. The outward manifestation of this was flexible seating, Socratic Circles, and student-led lessons. The inward though is where the real manifested change occurred. It was the year I discovered that some of these 15 and 16 year olds possessed more self-confidence than I did as an adult. Whereas I held very definite opinions, I was much more likely to keep them close to my chest rather than be judged or critiqued. These kids were fearless, but in a completely respectful, mannerly - humorous -  way.

My 2nd period Honors English class is where the bulk of my metamorphosis as a teacher began. I vividly remember the day I sat on my stool behind my podium, totally ready to lead a discussion over a section of Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children that they had been reading independently. I threw out the first couple of questions and when the answers began to flow, I realized this was a group of free-thinkers. I decided to press to see how far they were willing to go. #thinkoutsidethebox was born, and from that day on, this class made themselves vulnerable, sharing even when the topics became personal, not ashamed or embarrassed of the tears that sometimes were shed. I had always loved sharing novels with students, peeling back the many layers of symbolism like an onion, but this particular group of students carried us to another level, and found ways to connect the text to the real world in ways I had not even thought of.

It was the "Year of the Projects," where Bailey made a doll (Pretty Portman) who became our class mascot early on. Armed with her own Instagram page, Pretty took turns traveling with the students, even making an appearance at an UIL competition. Another time, Hannah created a beautiful bouquet of silk flowers, with a single black rose included to tie into the symbolism of the story. I've had that bouquet on each of my desks since then, and will take it home where it will continue to sit on my home office desk. I look at it often and am reminded of that special year.

It was also a year of mischievousness and procrastination gone good:) By that I mean David and Madison. David was (and continues to be) the consummate class clown. More than once, he had me convinced that he'd not done his assigned project, going so far one time to create a title page and one slide in a PowerPoint presentation, only to have the 3rd slide say, "THE END." I remember glancing up from the rubric, chewing on the end of my pen, studying him, trying like mad to determine if this was yet another practical joke. It always was. And EVERY presentation was first-rate, top-notch, off the chart, presentation!

Madison was my procrastinator - especially when it came to essays. A self-proclaimed struggling writer, Madison was (and is) actually an amazing writer. She has a unique way of stringing words, combining thoughts, facts, and analogies in a way that make her papers a fascinating read from the first word all the way to the last one. That is, once they WERE. TURNED. IN! :) Often frustrated by the tardiness of her essays, I would TRY MY HARDEST to find something - anything - wrong with it. I never could. Madison is just one of those who gets work done. Even if it's at the very last possible second. What can you say to a system that works for her?!?

This was the year that I really got to know Chelsy, Shelby, Bradley, Ethan, Leslie, Sydney, and Presley. I learned about Chelsy's obsession with all things Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, and Leslie's with Canelo Alvarez:) I learned that Ethan had THE BEST sopapilla cheesecake recipe, that Syd was creative and artistic, and that Presley was quiet but hysterically funny.

It was the year of the "Cultural Quilt" and the cultural presentations, where we explored our backgrounds, upbringings, the case of nature vs nurture. Once each student completed their square, complete with things that were unique to them as well as things they knew to be true, we put them all together to form our class quilt. We proudly hung it on the wall of our classroom and there it stayed until I - very reluctantly - took it down the very last day of that school year. We wrote the very revealing essay: "This I Believe," and then began our presentations. It was during these presentations that CeCe blew me away with a whole demonstration of cultural hair by bringing in a doll shoulder/head with an elaborate 'do to represent her combined heritage, and that David demonstrated his by sharing a heavy, iron tortilla maker that had been passed down through several generations in his family.

We "circled up" often, and eagerly, because we had learned that 2nd period was a time of excitement, sharing, and learning to feel safe within our circle. We read so much, discussed even more, and wrote more than any of them probably wanted to. Yet they were always seeking to up the bar on their written word, and the results were awe-inspiring and life-changing.

At least they were for me.

Here it is, two years later, and - as they prepare to graduate in a few days and take a last walk across the auditorium stage - this teacher is all caught up in the memories of that year they were sophomores.

So...

To you - I say "thank you." Thank you for allowing me to share that time with you. Thank you for trusting me with your thoughts, your ideas, and your hopes and dreams for the future. Now, that future is right here, and I have so, so, SO much confidence in the paths each of you will choose. No pathway is easy or free of thorns or roadblocks or bumps in the road, but always remember that there is joy in the journey, and beauty all along the road to where you want to be.

Smile often. Dream big. Love hard. Be kind always.

Class of 2019 - I love you, and I will always be here, quietly cheering you on!




Saturday, May 18, 2019

Teaching Deconstructed.

I am down to one week left with students. One week from today I will give last hugs as kiddos rush for the hallway, anxious to get their summer on. The year will end in much the same way it has ended for me for the past many years.

Except I won't be returning in August.

This fact is both exciting and terrifying to me. I, too, am ready to begin summer but maybe even more anxious for fall and for this new opportunity to focus entirely on our growing B&B and on our growing family. I'm looking forward to more road trips to see our kids and grands, to having a bit more energy to devote to the upkeep and tending that a bed and breakfast needs to be truly successful, and to being present for my parents in a way that I haven't really been able to for the last several years.

This is an exciting time!

Yet any new venture (or risk) can be terrifying as well and I wouldn't be honest if I didn't confess I've spent many a sleepless nights since making the decision to "come home." It's not that I don't trust the decision. In fact, everything has aligned so perfectly that it leaves no doubt that God is truly directing our footsteps. Spiritually and mentally, I am so ready. Emotionally - not so much.

Teaching is something that is so hard to define. It is more who you are and much less of what you actually do. When you have a heart for teaching, it's about the relationships first and all that comes with the job second. And these relationships...

Y'all.

These relationships are so strong and they tug at your heartstrings and - each year - you are left changed. See, it's not just the students who do the learning; teachers learn just as much, maybe more. We learn that compassion, encouragement, and a little grace does more for a student's overall success than academics itself. We learn that behind every face that looks to us is a story that needs to be told and - sometimes - we are THE safe place for that story to be heard. We learn that we don't, in fact, know everything and on certain days we feel we don't know anything.

Teaching is not about the exhilarating moments; it's about those exhilarating moments that happen once in a blue moon that tide you over until the next one, when and if it should come. It's about a student sending you a Facebook message of appreciation after he receives his Masters and you both recall that first six weeks that he sat in your class during his sophomore year...and the battles you had. It's about a student that is one of the very first to text you on Mother's Day, even though she is graduated and a mother herself now, to tell YOU Happy Mother's Day. It's about the daily conversations where you listen, laugh, worry, sometimes shake your head in confusion, but more often nod in understanding, and always end your Friday classes with, "Have a great weekend. BE SAFE."

It's about that "beginning of the year tired" and "end of the year tired" that just can't be explained, only to magically be replaced by renewed inspiration and excitement for a brand new year after roughly 8 weeks of rest and recuperation with your "normals."

It's about keeping peanut butter crackers and popcorn in your desk drawer for hungry students. Occasionally overlooking a sleeping student because you know they are working a full-time job that includes late nights, WHILE maintaining a near perfect GPA and - can I just say - showing up! Loving on the surly and the ones with stinky attitudes because it's not YOU they are angry with; they're just angry. For a variety of reasons. It's about knowing their names, but also saying them out loud and often. Discovering their hobbies and initiating conversations about them. Finding out what they do in their spare time and making sure to go through their drive-thru window at work occasionally, asking about a mom recuperating from surgery, quietly giving a hug to a student who is (even more quietly) observing the anniversary of the death of a sibling, and slipping a few bucks to yet another student so they can attend a school event and not be the only one in class not able to go.

It's about realizing that grades are NOT the great equalizer and they should not be what makes or breaks a student's record - or their heart. It's about the loud classrooms where interactive learning is taking place, according to the state TEKS, sure, but even more so according to what students need the most of that particular day. Even if that means scrapping your well thought out lesson plans and taking off on another trajectory. It's about saying, "I don't know" when you don't know something, but following it up with, "but I'll find out and get back to you." It's about seeking out a student whose feelings you accidentally hurt and saying, "I'm so sorry. I was wrong."

Teaching is indescribable.

This post could go on and on because my heart is full to overflowing today. With excitement. With terror. With aaaalllllll the emotions that fall on the spectrum between these two. So I'll stop here and save some for later.

I just attended the Top 10 Breakfast (it will get a post all its own) and survived with a minimal amount of tears. But then I walked back into my classroom and dissolved into a puddle.

I'm a teacher.

Puddles happen.