The Blog Post That Will Probably Get Me In Trouble

Couple of things before I let my heart flow onto this page. #1. I had a wonderful first day of school today. The kids are sweet, we have new energy flowing through our staff, and I know that I'm where I am supposed to be...for now. #2. I know without doubt that I am blessed. I enjoy things that many only dream of. I get this. But........

I still get really frustrated.

I'm called to teach. It wasn't a bolt of lightening calling, but rather a long, drawn out, tugging kind of calling. It started when I was young, but it was easy to ignore back then.  Even as I sat in pre-med classes for the first two years of college, something pulled at me. But here's the thing. Never once did I seriously entertain the thought of being a teacher. I could imagine myself working with children and families, but in a classroom? Never in a million years. So, after earning a BA in Psychology and a BA in Modern Languages, I decided to fore go graduate school for the time being and I landed in my first career of Child Development Specialist/Family Consultant. There. Doing the education thing without stepping foot in a classroom. And the story goes on from there--three different Early Childhood programs in my early years moving around Texas and doing life as Mrs. Briley-- then substitute teaching, late night talks with God and with myself, and a decision to enter the PACT program through LeTourneau University. I told myself that, even though I was earning a teaching certificate I wouldn't teach for long. I would take more classes and be a diagnostician or a counselor. Anything but teach a classroom full of elementary students. And yet...one more move, a mountain of student loans, and a smattering of employment applications all over Karnes County led to a phone call from a lady named JoAnn at Runge ISD. A midsummer visit to a quaint PK-12 campus in a town that you don't even have to blink to miss...and I was hooked. Love at first visit. Started my 10th year at RISD today, and it has been quite the ride. I've met people that I can't imagine being without in my life. I've taught entire families of siblings. I spent most of Meet the Teacher night this past week with a 7th grader and a 6th grader--brothers that just needed to talk for a while. They both came and got hugs today, as did several other "big" kids that have outgrown my third grade classroom, but not their teacher.

The frustration is not with my students. Many try me. Some succeed. I've had parents that I'm pretty sure couldn't stand me for a while...now we share hugs and long conversations in the grocery store. I think the root of my frustration is feeling that I've made a career, a life, of trying to make others feel valuable-- and somewhere along the way I became part of "the teachers". Nameless, faceless, even unidentifiable. I taught all day, worked on paperwork from 4-6, then sat through a three hour board meeting tonight. My main interest in the meeting was a salary discussion, and after waiting through a complete agenda rearrangement and a long recess, I sat and listened to talk of "the teachers". I'm grateful to the three board members who shook my hand, called me by name, and made eye contact during the evening. Bottom line--I just sometimes wish that I had a name and a face and an outlet for my story. I do what I do for the kids, but I have a family to take care of as well. Medical bills. A son about to graduate. I wear the same clothes over and over. I rarely get any type of vacation. My "raise" last year was entirely wiped out by increases in health insurance and other "perks". "The teachers" have stories. I'm just not sure that many people understand the sacrifice. I don't want praise, I want respect. I don't want to get rich. I want to be able to survive. I want to teach and guide children, without losing my identity and sacrificing my own family along the way. I want to answer my calling, without losing my voice. 

18

Today, my firstborn and only son, you turn 18 years old. You have pretty much made a life of beating the odds--so nothing really surprises me anymore. You've been proving doctors (and lots of other people) wrong your whole life. If someone said you couldn't, or shouldn't, or wouldn't...you have. As simple as that, you make your own rules. Always. And I love that. I've been criticized over the years for my parenting of you, especially when you were little. Maybe criticism is too strong a word, but at least "questioned". Here's the thing, boy of mine--parenting you is sort of like, well, coaching Manu Ginobili. As I was reflecting on this day, that analogy came to mind. I thought it was from a Gregg Popovich interview, but alas, these words are from one of your number one earthly heroes, Timmy D.

 “He puts his head down and he goes,and we pray for the best.” - Tim Duncan (referring to his teammate and friend, Ginobili)

Sometimes I almost have to close my eyes when you take off on one of your ideas or goals. It isn't that I don't have faith in you, but this world...oh, this world. I love you for respecting my protective instincts. As I tried to tell you recently when we were in the midst of a huge (for us) struggle, it's HARD. You'll see, someday. 

 A week from tomorrow you will start your last year of high school and embark on the next part of your journey. I suspect that we will continue to learn from you in the coming years--you are constantly teaching me about love, and life, and parenting, and the latest with Johnny Football. That won't change just because you are now old enough to vote and do all sorts of other things--I suspect I will learn as much or more from Conner the Man as I have from My Little Boy. Live fully, love fiercely, choose wisely, and study hard (especially when you get to A&M because, let me tell you, freshman chemistry is NO laughing matter). Don't be in a hurry this next year. I'm sure not. 

Happy Birthday. You are a joy, an inspiration, and an amazing son. 

Love, Mom