Teaching Love

I Corinthians 13:13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Teenagers are strange creatures. When I was in college, people would look at me with raised eyebrows and gapping mouths when I spoke of my major and intentions to teach high school. “Why?” they would ask. I thought, why not?

Let me dispel myths that teaching any age compared to another is “easy.” I’ve worked with all ages of children, and teenagers just happen to be what I like the most. Teenagers have driven me to the point of wanting to pull my hair out, but one afternoon with my daughter’s Kindergarten class filled with waist-high people was all it took to reassure myself that teenagers aren’t so bad. The Kindergartener (like my daughter) who has to pee every thirty minutes is no more or less frustrating than the sophomore who asks to be excused every class period. A teacher of any age group must have the passion and heart to handle the group as a whole while simultaneously meeting the needs of the individual. It’s a huge task for teachers.

I think that most teachers, and parents, can empathize with what follows to some degree. Basic sociology teaches us that we all have many different roles and identities in life. Teachers are time keepers, organizers, planners, motivators, and encouragers. We are responsible for maintaining a controlled and safe environment for learning. We want to be a friend, a trusted person, in the lives of our students, but we must maintain discipline in the classroom. We have procedures to follow and procedures to enforce in order to have an environment that fosters learning.

As my first year of teaching comes to a close, I think about everything my students have taught me this year. They have helped teach me in ways that only another teacher can understand. Every lesson did not go exactly as I had planned. There were good days and hard days. There were days I knew my students listened, days when I wondered if they even heard a word I said, and days when it was my turn to listen.
In an English class, we have the opportunity to study literature and universal themes that apply to each of us in different ways. The perspectives that my students bring to the classroom are often very different from mine, because their lives and lived experiences are so different from me and each other. We read Nicholas Sparks’ novel A Walk to Remember. It’s a wonderful book about growing up, making choices, and losing a loved one. It lends itself to discussions about Christianity, God’s plan, facing one’s own mortality, and love. They groaned at first. The guys said it was a “chick book” and made fun of it. But by the end, I think we had all grown from our discussions.

Love is a universal theme that we can all relate to. It is something we crave, we must have it for survival; it’s something we truly need. If love is not found in the right places, it will be sought after from the wrong places. Boy or girl, tall or short, gay or straight, skinny or fat, believer, or non-believer, young or old…it doesn’t matter. Love transcends skin color and ethnicity and language. We all struggle to fit in, to find our place, and to be loved.

I am expected to teach many things like grammar and literacy skills and writing. I’ve been taught to encourage and embrace diversity. All of these have validity. I was told to love my students, and I do. I didn’t realize that it was necessary for me to teach love as well. For some people, love comes easier than others. Some have more exposure to it. Yet others have only the conflicting and misleading images of love from our society and culture where “anything goes” and some forms of diversity are embraced a little too much, in my opinion. We wrote about what love means to us as individuals. I was surprised at how quickly some students wanted to share and pumped that we had finally found something we could all relate to.

. Then we came to the portion of the book that includes I Corinthians 13, you know, what’s often referred to as “The Love Chapter” in the Bible. We consulted and delved into the primary source, being the chapter in the Bible. We analyzed the text and processed it, compared and contrasted our lived experiences with those of the characters in the book. But most importantly, we all came to examine our lives and relationships. We learned that love is more than an emotion we are caught up in at the moment. Love is a commitment, whether it is husband/wife, boyfriend/girlfriend, parent/child, teacher/student, or friend /friend. We learned what love is and what love isn’t. My students helped me to take a long, hard look at my own life, relationships, and interactions with people.

In some places of the world, we couldn’t have those conversations. There may come a time when Sparks’ book is banned, and the opportunity to discuss I Corinthians openly in a classroom setting is not allowed. I may get a phone call from an angry parent when this hits the press, who knows! But for now, it isn’t banned, and our lessons were aligned with state standards. Not taking advantage of the opportunity to share and learn about love would have been tragic, and I must answer to standards higher than the state.

At one point, the room was silent, and I couldn’t buy a comment from my most talkative bunch. One student said, “Mrs. Rorrer, you really got me thinking!” I was joyous and sad all at the same time. Their silence was an indicator that their brains and hearts were working; their tough guard had been momentarily let down. I realized that for many, this was the first time they had really thought about the subject, and even sadder, some may have no real influence of love in their lives. It’s not possible for me to answer life’s hardest questions…the kind that aren’t found on any exam or EOG Test…the kind they struggle with deep inside and cover with a superficial smile. In other words, as their English teacher, I will never know the full extent of the influences they encounter beyond the parameters of my classroom. I don’t force my beliefs on them, but I do encourage them to share their beliefs through writing and discussion when applicable. These formats help them process and make sense of the complex world in which they live.

Love is our greatest challenge and largest responsibility as teachers and parents. Teenagers are tough. They have thick skin. But when you take away the i-pods, cell phones, hip clothes, and punk attitude, one thing is sure. Our children want to know what love is. More than that, they want to know that they are loved.

Letter to my First Year Students

June 1, 2011

Dear Students,

The end of the year is upon us. I know the past few weeks have been hard. The air outside is warmer and we all have summer vacation on our minds. Soon our time together will be over, but before you go, there are a few things I’d like to share.

I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for putting up with me. As students of a first year teacher, you have had much to endure. Not all the lessons have gone like I planned. Sometimes, I should have been better prepared. I haven’t handled every situation perfectly, but I tried to do the best I could at the time. Some things were easier than others and you know there were many times when you resisted along the way. Some times, it may have been hard...but other times it was way too easy. You’ve seen me happy, sad, frustrated, mad…and I remember seeing all of you the same way at some point or another. None of us are perfect. All we can do is try, and admit mistakes when we make them. We can learn from the mistakes and demand more and better of ourselves in the future. You have shaped the teacher I am, the teacher I want to become, and the teacher I will strive to be. Each individual, no matter how talkative or quite, young man or young woman, has had an impact on me. YOU are my first-year students. I know you will not be forgotten.

We survived research papers and vocabulary quizzes. I thought Senior Project would be the death of all of us, but we’re still kicking! We endured short stories and novels. You wrote in your Daybooks, even when I know you didn’t want to. I love literature and I love writing…but I also love young people, or else I wouldn’t and couldn’t be here. The things I will remember the most about this year together are the discussions we had, the times we laughed, and even the times you thought I was crazy and you laughed at me.

There are many of you whom I have known since the spring of 2010, when I stepped into the room as a student teacher. I have watched you grow and mature. You have done the same with me. When it seemed like I was pushing you too hard, just remember it was because I know how capable you really are. Gaining responsibility and learning are not things you do only in school. Soon, you all will leave this place and you will encounter more responsibility and learning than I could ever teach you in a classroom. In twenty years, it won’t matter who Thoreau was or what Gilgamesh encountered on his journey. What matters is your journey, the choices you make, the challenges you embrace, and the commitment you have to achieve your personal best for success. I don’t have all of the answers for you, but I hope to have taught you to ask the questions and seek the answers from your heart and mind.

I will remember talking with you, as individuals and as a class. I will always remember laughing with you, too. Sometimes we laughed because things were really funny. Sometimes we laughed because the only other thing to do was cry. And sometimes, we did cry, and that’s OK too. When you leave this class, there will be new challenges ahead. I hope your time at Morehead is enjoyable and memorable in positive ways. It has been an odd feeling for me to walk the halls and teach in the same room I once sat in as a student. You have made me recall and consider those experiences, not all of which were positive. But, I can assure you, you can make it out of here and far in life if you commit to try. You will blink, and high school will be over. Make the most of it by making wise choices, planning for the steps ahead, and choosing your friends wisely.

In retrospect, I hope you will look at your high school experience and consider the life skills you are learning and have learned. Life is our greatest teacher and the world is our greatest classroom. The real questions have nothing to do with MLA guidelines, formatting your outline, or grammar rules and work sheets. A few of the real questions are: Can you finish something you start? Can you meet deadlines and plan your work? (Whatever the “work” might be.) Can you communicate your thoughts and opinions in such a way as to give yourself a voice, but have the wisdom to know when that voice should be a subtle whisper or a strong sound against injustice? Can you defend your position without causing undue harm or offending when it’s not really worth it? Are you willing to risk being offended when there is no one to defend you, when the cause is worthy of sacrifice on your part? You don’t have to be able to answer these questions all at once. They will present themselves at various times throughout your life, and in many levels of relationships. Just never forget to slow down, take a minute, and ask these questions of yourselves.

I wanted to give you some quote or passage to pass on to you for encouragement down the road. Here is a copy of something my daddy shared with me when I was in high school. I hadn’t remembered it in years, until I came across it during the middle of our semester, and the words really seemed to speak to my heart.

Remember This:
To solve each problem one at a time.
Take each day as it comes.
Stick to your goals—no matter what happens.
Press toward your dreams.
Keep your attention focused on the future as you consider the solutions at hand.
Look for the bright side—even though it may be temporarily covered by a cloud.
Smile often—even when a frown feels more natural.
Think of those you love and know that they love you, too.
No matter how difficult it may seem, you have within you the power,the ability,and the knowledge to make things better.
And always remember that I am proud of you and I love you.

Do not be strangers once our time is over. I look forward to your smiles, your laughter, and your hugs that mean more to me than you can possibly imagine. Room 84 will always be open to you.

With Love,
Mrs. Amanda Rorrer

Rerunning

“The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg—not by smashing it.” ~Ellen Glasgow

It’s been a while since I wrote anything related to running. There was a good reason for that: I hadn’t been running. One year ago, I was always training for some race, while working towards several goals simultaneously. Running helped keep my mind focused. My goals were clear and defined. I was filled with purpose and completely sure of myself, my abilities, and the path that God was leading me down. I juggled school and family responsibilities. I was successful at preparing to be successful.

Then came graduation, turning thirty, worrying about job prospects, getting a job, and diving head first into teaching. Admittedly, the final transition from the student’s world of the classroom to the professional side, as the teacher of a classroom filled with 3o plus students, was eye-opening. Add extra family obligations, sickness, the death of my grandpa, injuries which led to a forced lay off from running, and I quickly began to feel like I was a mess of mass confusion! I no longer had those clearly defined goals; nothing was giving me that extra drive. I was no longer pushing….I felt like I was being pulled and dragged. The good habits I had worked so hard to make routine quickly began to fade as time passed. In just a few months, my life felt rearranged, like someone else was behind the wheel and refusing to show me the map! It was a struggle just to keep up, so I could forget about getting ahead. I was in survival mode, but I sure didn’t want to stay there. I was definitely in a slump, and as Dr. Seuss puts it, “Unslumping yourself is not easily done.”

Some days, I didn’t know if I was coming or going. The work never seemed finished at the end of the day and my “to-do” list was never-ending and ever-growing. Henry David Thoreau said, “Methinks my thoughts begin to flow when my legs begin to move.” I wanted to move again because I knew my mind would function better and I could deal with things easier if I carved out the time for exercise and returned to making it a priority. For me, as many others, there’s a correlation between mental and physical well-being. They go hand-in-hand, and when one is neglected, the other quickly follows suit. So I’ve been starting over, from ground zero for exercise. Run/walk intervals aren’t very fun for someone who once trained for half marathons. And hearing the words, “Your long-run days are over” has been hard to accept. Two years ago, a long run would have been 13-15 miles. Four years ago, I would have laughed if someone suggested running. Eight years ago, I was having surgeries on my left leg and was told at one point, “You’ll probably always have a slight limp.” So when I look at it that way, I’m more grateful for the ability to run at all. And then I wonder why I expected teaching to be any different. Just like the run/walk intervals are slow and painful in the beginning, so is teaching. It’s not a job that comes with instant results or rewards. It took me 30 years to get here. It may take 30 more to feel only slightly accomplished.

It has taken me over a month to build back up to a fraction of the distance I used to run in a day. It took the entire first semester of teaching to feel like I could breathe. But I have realized that for me, running is not about time, speed, or distance. It’s about a commitment and dedication to move, to be active, to feel alive. It’s about a determination to resist quitting, even when that would be the easiest thing to do. Whereas teaching, on the other hand, is about time, speed, and distance. It takes time to gain experience. Sometimes I have to slow down and really listen to what my students are saying. And, I have to be willing to go the extra distance for them. As a runner, I won’t quit on myself. As a teacher, I won’t quit on my students. I realized the drive I needed to give that extra push is right in front of me: it’s my students. Entering the professional world of teaching doesn’t mean that I am automatically accomplished. I have to move one step, one day, one class at a time to become more proficient. But I am applying that same level of determination and commitment to the classroom as I do to pounding the pavement. Neither one is easy, nor is the work ever done.

While running through a portion of the neighborhood I grew up in, I pushed pause on my i-pod. Only then could I hear the laughter of some boys playing football, the sounds of banging coming from a garage, the sirens of an approaching fire truck, and the crunch of the empty Newport box I crushed on the sidewalk. I realized that even if I were walking, or rolling in a wheel chair (which could have easily been my fate after that car crash), I would still be moving. And isn’t that the point of life? To always be moving? It’s time to rethink some goals, redefine my purpose, and move forward. It’s not about changing careers or locations. I am right where God has placed me for a reason. Moving forward means improving what it is that I already do. It means continuing to learn and gaining experience. Moving forward means resisting the temptation to become complacent and indifferent. (Or worse than that, content with mediocre or cynical). Maya Angelou says that if you can’t change the way something is, change the way you look at that thing. The answer is often inside of you, not in front of you. I was waiting for answers to drop out of the sky, when really, they were there the entire time. I just needed to be patient with myself and remember why I started running and teaching in the first place.


The qoute at the bottom of this poster reads:"Determination is the often the first chapter in the book of excellece." This poster is now hanging in my classroom.