Let Me Love You

I have my little friend who was adopted in December. She has her struggles, she has her hard days, her heart longs to love but I can see that she holds back. It baffles me that a five-year-old has to grapple with emotions that should be reserved for those who are of age to vote.

For the longest time, I thought these lyrics (to Let Me Love You) were primarily for romantic relationships but when my little friend came up to me today, I got teary eyed and made another connection. At recess she reached up to my hand and put her tiny, freezing cold hand into it. She looked up at me with the most pure and honest eyes and said, "Ms. Katie, I wish I was your mom."

Knowing her struggles with her home life and her reluctance to open up to anyone, I was a little confused by this and decided to dig a little deeper so I smiled and said, "why, D?"

She tugged at my arm and pulled me down to her level and whispered into my ear, "because then I'd get to see you all the time."

Needless to say, I got a bit choked up. She is letting me love her.  With watery eyes, I looked down at her and said, "that would make me very happy, D."

As I sit here reflecting, I also think about the men and women I had the fortune of knowing at MK last year when I was a case manager. So many of them had walls up and reluctance to let anyone in, let alone a spunky, quirky little white girl from the Pacific Northwest who listened to "Call Me Maybe" on repeat in the dining room...but some of them did. Some of them took the plunge and actually let me love them and it's funny, but I realized the walls I had put up as well.

I realized that deep down, my idea of service or "loving thy neighbor" was very one-sided...I did all the loving and they had to just take it. But what good was that? What a silly way to think of relationships! Only once I equally let them in, and equally let them love me, was I able to able to fully love myself.

This brings me to how I want to approach others...strangers, tellers, bus drivers, roommates, "enemies" and my students. My little student, full of confusion and pain, let me in and likewise (judging by my tears currently) I let her in. The equal exchange of lowering walls and meeting each other, equally broken, equally flawed and equally pained opens the door to an incredible love that I have a hard time describing. An incredible love that makes life the amazing thing it is. What a beautiful little girl and what an amazing blessing I have in my life; just resting in the palm of my hand.

The lyrics are really beautiful:
"Let me love you
And I will love you
Until you learn to love yourself
Let me love you
I know your troubled
Don't be afraid, let me help"

(Yes, friends, the lyrics are from Ne-Yo - BUT there's an acoustic version by Travis Garland that is amazing  - plus Glee's version was wonderful too - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DoIr-_-9GKM)

Magnificent

As I was sitting in class this week, many different feelings ran through my body. We are in week 24 of 39 weeks of school...which, if you're a math whiz you can figure out, is more than halfway through the year. Scary thought that in 14 weeks, it's summer break. More scary and more painful is that my kids will leave me.

It's funny because no matter who I am talking to, old, young, teacher, non-teacher, cashier, mailman, friend, family, acquaintance, etc. they always say something along the lines of: "wow, what an impact you're making on their little lives...they are lucky to have you."

In reality, I am so blessed to have them. Who else can say that they get to play dress up, kiss boo boos, laugh constantly at silly, absurd things, see changes and growth and a spark for learning ignite, on a daily basis. Friends, I get to do this.

This week, my favorite student, Tito, was talking to me during lunch (my favorite time during the day because there's no agenda or learning happening). We were talking about whatever, either singing Rihanna lyrics or having "Girl Talk" when he was suddenly taken by my scarf. He lifted up it's shimmery, light blue tassels at the end, and said, "Can I take this home?" I looked at him and said, "T, I can't give this to you. It was a gift from my sister; she'd be so mad!" Unphased, still mesmerized by the scarf, he lifted it up and whispered in awe, "it's just magnificent."

Big vocab word there. I certainly didn't teach him that. But the point being, I love the passing of knowledge from me to them but the thing that wakes me up every morning, the thing that keeps me excited to see them every day, is the small, little, silly things that light my heart with joy. Between them dancing the Cha Cha slide or Gangnam style or Soul Train (yes, we did this),  or saying the perfect thing at the right moment or just saying something so out there that it didn't make sense at all; it's all so magnificent.

 I had one friend help me read a book during lunch in front of the entire class. He helped me flip the pages as I read so he sat directly next to me while the other kids were on the carpet. About halfway through the book, he stood up and shoved his hand down his pants. (Graphic here, sorry, friends) Stunned, I looked at him and whispered, "what are you doing?" He point blank looked at me and sternly and loudly said, "I got to make sure my penis is still there!" (Duh, Ms. Katie...duh.)

Unpredictable. Undefined. Magnificent.

Coming full circle, they are going to move on to 1st grade next year. They won't be mine anymore. I think that is a major down side of teaching that never occurred to me before: they get older. As much as I have been to them and as much as I've taught them...they have blessed my life and given my life so much meaning. I laugh, I cry, I scratch my head but in the end, I love them and that is just... magnificent.

Valentine's Day: Not Just for Couples

It’s that time of year again; a time of loving, giving, forgiving, caring and sharing: it’s Valentine’s Day!

I am not a bitter, single lady nor have I ever been; but it does bother me a little that this wonderful holiday is usually reserved for those in romantic relationships.

I’m waiting for someone to call Hallmark or Lifetime and tell them: It’s a day of love…for everyone!

It’s a day of wonderful, beautiful, fantastic, LOVE and I think love is only wonderful when it’s shared with others; regardless of your relationship status. Love shared with mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, store clerks, bus drivers, teachers, doctors, kids, garbage people and homeless people. Love that should be given to all. As much as my unicorn and rainbow coated world would like for mankind to love all year around, I realize the magnitude of that request and the near impossibility of it. So I may just have to settle for one day out of the year…and I choose the day already dedicated to love…Valentine’s Day.

I am reminded of my favorite Mother Teresa quote: “I have learned the paradox: If I love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”

It helps to remind me that I may not know where to or who to direct my love at but as long as I’m doing it (loving) with the fullest of my being, without relationship status or boundaries, than there can be no more hurt…only love.

So for this Valentine’s Day, I want to spread love in every direction – friends, family, strangers, significant others, kids, the elderly, orange, brown, pink or blue – because this world needs less hurt and what better day to begin alleviating that hurt than on Valentine’s Day?

I Am Ready

This week was another long week of wrestling and fighting with my six-year-old behaviorally challenged friend. I haven't talked about this not-so-little guy in a while because it's become such a state of normalcy in my classroom to have him punching, screaming, throwing chairs, running out of class, scratching, hitting and kicking. But this week he decided he would bite as well. Collectively, of the 35 hours I spent with my kids this week, 7 of them were putting poop-head in a hold or trying to reason with him.

Don't get me wrong, he has moments of kindness and understanding but when he flips the switch, it's on. I take off my scarf and ID badge and we're on like two WWF wrestlers (except the blood is real and the pay is significantly less). 

I didn't come on here today to rant about my problem child, though. I am climbing onto my soap box once more for one purpose; one realization I had. 

On Tuesday, my co-teacher told me privately that poop-head's mom had shared in a IEP meeting with my co-teacher that poop-head made her cry on a daily basis. When poop-head's mom picked him up that day, I looked at her and all I saw was despair, fear and defeat. She has no control and no escape. It made me realize that I'm done with him in four months. I never have to hold him or take a head butt or kick from him again. He is on to first grade and out of my life. BUT his mother, his mother is stuck with him, kicking and punching and scratching for the rest of her life.

I realized how lucky I was AND I then asked myself: what could I do to help make her future easier? How can I make her feel less despair, fear or defeat? Where is the refuge for her? Where is the mental illness program or social worker to help with her poop-headed son? 

Then I was reminded of the Sandyhook school shooting (and Columbine, Springfield, Virginia Tech, Aurora, etc.) and an article I read by Liza Long; a mother of a mentally disturbed child. She entitled it, "I am Adam Lanza’s Mother", referring to the shooter at Sandyhook Elementary. What support can we provide for parents who have no idea what to do with their behaviorally challenged/mentally disturbed children? What ways can we help to eleviate the despair, the fear AND the defeat? There has to be a way to aid these parents who are stuck for lifetimes; not just one school year, with out-of-control children. 

All I know is, "I am Ready" to help the men and women like Ms. Long and Ms. Lanza who are crying out for support and are only being met by judgment and noncooperation.

Liza Long's article is listed below:

http://thebluereview.org/i-am-adam-lanzas-mother/

Goliaths will Always Be There

"Everything can be taken from a man but one thing," Frankl wrote in Man's Search for Meaning, "the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."

My roommate sent me this quote in an article about Viktor Frankl (holocaust survivor and well known psychiatrist). I think it encompasses this new realization I have about life: one must choose what kind of attitude they take with them where ever they go.

It's no secret that I am non-confrontational. I am awful at discussing ugly things about people and am usually found beneath one's front door as the immortal "doormat". I hate confrontation. Currently, I am being met with a sticky situation with a bully in my life. She is manipulative, hurtful, out for her own agenda and I can't seem to say "no" to her. She is my current day Goliath. I keep wondering to myself if I will ever stand up to her...

Then I think back to a year ago and my work at the senior citizen non-profit I worked for. My Executive Director was a HUGE bully. He would lie, cheat and steal to get his way and use his commanding presence and blowhard voice to run people over. He was my Goliath of 2012.

Then, I think back to my time in Bridgeport and I think of some of the personalities I met there. Goliaths in there own right and it makes me stop and recognize a pattern...

All this time, I have been living a very naive life thinking people will always be nice and if I just eliminate this "toxic" Goliath from my life then I'll be done with having to deal with bullies. Well, after analyzing the data, I have come to the conclusion that Goliaths will never go away. Let me repeat that once more (more for my sake): GOLIATHS WILL NEVER GO AWAY!

There will always be a rude, hurtful, confrontational bully in my workplace or social life or elsewhere. They are like the stones David used to knock him out...everywhere.

So circling back to the quote, I think about my attitude when approaching these modern day Goliaths and I wonder if maybe my outcome would be more healthier if my attitude was more determined; more to the point; more direct and more tough towards these bullies. Maybe the role of the doormat will never end until I finally decided to say enough is enough, pick up a stone and metaphorically slingshot it into the forward of my confrontation.    

To Love Another Person is to See the Face of God

Like a typical "Conway", I am finding it a challenge to funnel my thoughts into one, cohesive post. It's been a month of absolute joy (the holiday season usually brings this gift to people) and now I find myself in a "joy" induced hang over.

Getting older means growing more comfortable with yourself and to me, it means helping others grow into themselves as well. No one ever told me that growing older would mean: bills, money worries, homesickness, choices made independently, apartment searches, loss, helplessness, loneliness and cooking for myself every night (OK, that last one isn't so bad).

So now, after being with my parents and loved ones for two weeks, I am thrown back into the "real world" of growing older.

What I'm finding is that my specific type of growing older is a little more difficult because I feel like I'm doing it on my own. Being so far away from everyone I love so deeply is now taking its toll on my "getting older" because that initial excitement about independence and that rush of adrenaline that kept me chugging along is now replaced with a deep desire to be close to the people I love. I guess one could say the honeymoon period is over.

Despite my desire to move back to the West coast, I have committed myself to my school until June 2014. So my "getting older" reality is that I just need to tough it out for 17 months more. Instead of wallowing in my choice to live in DC, I am trying to push myself to see God in it.

My New Years resolution (I never make these), is to try to see the face of God more. I really want to push myself to see where God is working in my life; why He has prompted me to stay in DC when I could've left in August and how His face is helping me to assist others in "growing older" as well.

Some brainstorming ideas thus far:
1) Go to Church more regularly - I find that when I have God as part of my routine, growing older isn't so hard to manage.
2) HAND write to the people I love and tell them I love them - actually being a friend instead of thinking about myself will help me pour my love onto others more instead of searching for it within myself.
3) Pray more - this should be a no brainer, but if I pray more, maybe God will be more constant in my thoughts!

And that's about as far as I got...any other ideas would be appreciated.

I recently saw Les Miserables with my parents. As strange as it sounds, it made me cry for the usual reasons but it also hit me deeper than that because it made me reflect on my faith and my relationship with God. Jean Valjean is no saint but instead of wallowing in his self-pity or "growing older", he chooses to see the face of God in those around him. The final line in the movie is: "To love another person is to see the face of God." So, my goal for myself is to not only love myself more, to help me grow more comfortable with myself, but also to love others more. I want to see the face of God...I need to see the face of God.

Peace and love to you. Be on the look out, I may be writing you soon.

The Best Part of Themselves

My principal is great. He's relaxed with his style of supervising yet provides a lot of constructive criticism for me to improve and grow as a teacher. When we first met he said something that was interesting but didn't really hit me until he said it again today:

"Parents are sending the best part of themselves to you everyday."

I thought about this in the obvious way: I love my kids. They are hilarious and odd and love to dance and they are mine 40 hours a week. I love their smiles, their hugs, their frowns, their tattling, their excitement over silly little things and their love of one another without allowing socioeconomics or status to get in the way (like some adults do).

But I thought more in depth about this idea that if each set of parents sent the best parts of themselves to school every day; shouldn't each generation be better than the last?

Just a thought I was wondering.

In my life, I think of the best parts of my parents: My father's corny jokes; love of trivia; methodical and deliberate moments of wisdom; incredible patience and wait time; strength; lack of fear to be himself and love of music. My mother's excitement over silly little things; dedication to people, to family, to love; unfiltered verbal diarrhea; dedication to her faith; acceptance of all and love of getting a mission accomplished (they, clearly, have more parts that are amazing, but these stand out to me in the moment).

Now, I think of myself...am I truly the best part of them? Do I do their best qualities justice? When I went to college or the east coast to brave the independent world on my own, did they believe they were unleashing the best parts of themselves into the world?

I know this may appear as useless ramble but it's just a thought I've been pondering. If we all strive to be the best parts of our parents, then I guess it leaves the next generation no choice but to be better than ours...what a beautiful world that could be.