Tag Archives: school

Reach

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I went to elementary school in the 80’s when bullying was thought of as an elective. That meant if someone elected to pick on you and you complained to the teacher about it, you would be promptly reminded how close you were to the end of the day, and with that, the teacher turned away as if that small nugget of counseling was all they had to offer. I suppose it was.
Wuzzle was the nickname of the girl who tried to strong-arm me on the bus. She was stocky to my slight, bronzed to my pale, and thought I’d be an easy target on which to display her superiority.
But this was the country where cowboys could speak the language of artists, and ballerinas could be both feminine and beasts. There are fewer limits where there are fewer assumptions.


So as she tried to pin my arms down, I remembered how my ballet teacher told us that dancers were some of the strongest people in the world because we weren’t reliant on machines and steps to sculpt our muscles—we used what we had—our own bodies. Sometimes we forget the value of what we already have.
In ballet, you not only hold your arms up for the majority of the class, but you reach farther than you came in reaching, and use them to frame a story for the audience. What’s not obvious is the effort it takes just to hold your arms up for an hour, and the strength it takes to rise to your toes time and again.
With all the stretching, ballerinas’ muscles don’t bulk up as they would if built in the gym, so this way, they not only reach beyond their limits, but the work that goes into the dance doesn’t get lost to the story.
Wuzzle gave up after a good ten minutes. My arms couldn’t be pinned by an amateur elective-taker. Reality for those who judge without looking a little deeper. But our struggle wasn’t for nothing—we became friends after that, and chose to sit by each other on the bus from that day forward.
I try to remember that as I face struggles—what do I already have in me? Will I let myself reach a little farther…because with the spirit in me, I can. So can you.

Blessings for your Tuesday.

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Us

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In my world, multi-tasking is necessary evil, but let’s not forget that it’s still evil. I used to think something was wrong with me when I had trouble jumping from one project to another. If I have ten pots on the stove, most of them will turn out “okay”, you know what I mean? But if I have one or two…they usually turn out great. That’s why I only paid attention to about two subjects in school…those ones usually turned out great, heh.

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A few people called me names like lazy or unmotivated. One teacher in a particularly evil class thought comparing me to my older, high achieving brother would help get me interested in his class. Every. Day. In order to cope, I ignored that teacher for the rest of the year, accepting a lower grade so he would just leave me alone. Thankfully, most of my feelings about being different were assuaged when I became a writer. We study personalities, psychology, and culture in order to write accurately and as many of us will tell you, finding out how many ways people are wired is like holding a homemade chocolate cake in your hands—it all suddenly makes sense.

Just to be clear how unwise it is to pressure people to fit in the same mold, here’s an illustration: In one of my classes, we were told if we didn’t achieve higher rankings in the subjects we struggled with, we’d be scrubbing toilets at McDonald’s. I have two things to say to that.
1. I’m not, even after burning a certain textbook from a certain class.
2. Why do we continuously demean the blue collar class with comments like that when we know we couldn’t survive without them?

Maybe lessons from unwise leaders are the rocks in the hands of protesters—I’m not talking about the peaceful protests about civil rights—I’m talking about protesting issues and/or methods that are less normal—things that seem unjust to those who have never seen the beauty of a homemade chocolate cake. We know this type of protest when it does nothing but divide people further.
These are people who think those two odd pots on the end of the stove are useless, never fully tasting them to see how much they could complete a meal.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
 Matthew 5:9

 

Noah and Goliath

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My son tears through the house with his cape on. I still see a chubby-cheeked baby, but he is not. He is Superhero Noah. He is Thor, defeating the villains, Spiderman protecting his home from invaders.

When I sit him down to practice his letters, he frowns. Even S for Superhero doesn’t capture his attention.

“I need to get the bad guys, Mommy.”

I admit, I have concerns about him starting school in the fall. Is he ready? His legs don’t want to be tamed, they want to run, they want to pedal his bike…he is energy wrapped up in uncontrolled blond hair and smears of ketchup.DSCF1156

He does love books though. He will soak in a story—sitting still—and learn from any kind of adventure, especially if there is some kind of battle.

But if it’s not akin to The Very Hungry Dinosaur or Tyson the Terrible, he has no interest in learning the traditional way.

We read about David. David is a superhero for sure—small guy beats huge giant—Noah is all kinds of excited about that.

Something pops out at me about this story so I dig into it a little more—I even open a book I had waiting on my kindle and begin making my way to the heart of this small King, because no matter how often I have heard about him, flannel-board memories keep popping up and it loses something.

Until I focus on the slingshot.

It’s the slingshot. David doesn’t bat an eye at the seasoned soldiers or worry about his lack of experience. He doesn’t even consider that he doesn’t have a sword like everyone else has.

He hasn’t been schooled in battle. He is a harp-playing Shepherd.

I don’t think he cares about what he lacks. No—he draws upon who his God is, and the tools that God has placed before him and pulls out all he has.

Thump. He kills Goliath with a child’s toy.

I’ve decided not to worry about Noah (as long as I think of David). Because God gave him those busy legs and fighting spirit, and somehow, somewhere down the road, he will face a giant. And hopefully he will remember who God is. Hopefully he will remember that who he is and what he has is more than enough.

What’s your slingshot? Tell us in the comments.