Merry Christmas

This Christmas,

I'm once again reminded of how blessed I am 

...to have a listening mother and 'best friend' in the same person

...to have a prayerful father who is abounding in wisdom and patience

...to have a loving brother who surprises me with his humble heart of service

...to have a Savior who would not only give me all of the above

but would, above all, willingly enter this dark, broken world

to rescue a wretched child like me.

Oh daddy, I celebrate and praise you tonight.

Merry Christmas.

Christ is here.

Classroom to World Connections

If you remember from my last post, I had the privilege of watching my students understand the significance of saying the pledge after interacting with a soldier through a hand-written letter.

 

Today was a rough day, but my student informed me that she sent me an email this weekend.

I vaguely remembered the subject heading being some Twitter font, so I immediately deleted it, thinking it was one of the many spam mails that I often receive from students.

 

I was mildly embarrassed when she pulled up her email again to show me what she really sent after our class:

 

 

She suggested that I put it into my slides to project before the morning pledge.

 

I smiled.

 

Brilliant idea, Ayreeona.

Brilliant.

 

Thank you Lord, for moments like these

to hang onto when times get tough.

You are so good to me.

 

Family Exchange

circa August 2012

when Oppa visited Philly

 

Text to Parents:

 

Text to Children:

 

Parents win.



Teaching through the Heart

My school recently added the Pledge of Allegiance to the morning announcements. With that, unfortunately, came the threat that if students did not stand, they would be "written up for a suspension," which came as a surprise to all the teachers, including me.

The thought of punishing students for not following through did not sit well in my stomach. My students, dumbfounded and even angry, would eye me as only about a third of the class actually stood to recite the pledge. Is she actually going to write my name down?  I would quickly change the subject, unable to take sides--I felt subjected to the authority of the principal yet felt wrong to go through with such an order. They were never even taught the meaning of the pledge and this practice was never instilled in them before.

After reading some war poetry by Claude McKay and Langston Hughes with my poetry classes, I decided to wrap up the unit by writing to a soldier who was actually in the forefront of war.

A friend currently serving in Afghanistan graciously forwarded me the names of some of the soldiers he was serving with and each student chose to write to one. Their letters evolved from simple Thank Yous to deep, heartfelt letters writing about their own "battles" here in Philadelphia and expressing their appreciation to those fighting for them on the other side of the globe. It's been a while, if not the first time, that students have written hand-written letters--not surprising considering the social media-ridden generation of their days, so it was doubly refreshing to see them write raw letters with pen or pencil in hand..quietly writing to an unknown soldier and, in the process, making a new friend.

What I didn't expect was the loudspeaker to abruptly interrupt the peace in my classroom. It all took me by surprise.

No, not the loudspeaker. The kids.

They put their pencils down, and I could see them contemplating the flag that was plastered to the front of my classroom wall. I could see them shift a little in their seats. And then, for the first time, I could count on my one hand how many were still seated.

Because well, nearly all of my students stood up. Right hand across their chest, they stood for their comrades in Afghanistan. They stood for Private Thomas, Lieutenant Wolfe, Sergeant Kang, and Captain Bowen. Their actions now stood for something...for someone.

I was a given a glimpse of what it meant to teach through the heart.

Lord, teach me.
Show me.
Help us to Love You and Your People in room 209.

Moments in the Classroom

Encounter A:
"Ms. Kang, you must be tired,"
notes Rasheem, walking in and taking his seat in class.
"Just a little. haha Why do you say that?"
"Because you didn't ask me how I was today"


Encounter B:
"Ms. Kang, did you have a bad day?"
notes Astan, very alarmed.
"haha why do you say that, Astan?"
"Because your water bottle is empty!"


My students  may struggle with using context clues while reading complex passages, but they're so perceptive when it comes to reading the little things. I'm blown away by encounters like these. So attuned to human beings in ways that I miss too frequently. Children, you humble me.

And a whirlwind it was.

P r o c e s s i n g

I realized that writing is the way in which I take time to breathe, gather my thoughts, meditate, and organize all that The Lord is teaching me into coherent words that I can digest.

As you can see, I have not written in the past NINE months. Although I could attribute that to the madness that comes with first year teaching, grad school classes to top, and numerous other excuses, I think I can simply say that it was all due to my simple neglect of finding joy in rest. I have honestly forgotten what that feels like. Instead of taking those rare free times to simply write, I have instead filled it with other activities, which, though fun in their own ways, have not been fulfilling. Such fleeting satisfactions! Reflecting these past few days has taught me the importance and grand purpose of the Sabbath. God rested. THE GOD OF THE UNIVERSE even rested. Surely a tiny being like me would innately desire rest as well...I was made in His image, was I not?

"And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. ³² And they went away in the boat to a desolate place by themselves." -Mark 6: 31-32       

So here I am. I am back. A part of me misses those carefree college days when I could easily curl up in an abandoned nook of an academic building and type my heart away. Now I must fight to grasp these times because they surely don't come to me by chance. Father, take me to that desolate place to rest a while in your presence. Take me away on that boat to that place, just You and me.