teach. pray. - Transparencies Aren't Obsolete
Being more transparent and vulnerable is something I've been working on along with finding humor in life. I've always been pretty good with deep reflective thinking and conversations, however, I've never been good at them in the context of a relationship in which I have to reveal feelings I'm not totally comfortable with, or when I'm not sure how my honest feelings are going to be interpreted, or when I think the other person may get upset. And, when I say intimate relationships, it refers to any relationship that consists of love, honesty, and sincerity, which could be a relationship with a spouse, a friend, a sibling, a student, or a brief encounter with a stranger. I'm speaking of intimacy in terms of the heart and soul, not in terms of physicality. So, in these intimate situations, I tend to withhold my thoughts and emotions and withholding is not usually the best thing to do because withholding means I'm not being honest. And, let's face it, if we aren't honest with ourselves and others, no one wins.
I have several stories of transparency to share with you. They are from my teacher life and my married life.
Back in the day, teachers used transparencies. Clear sheets placed on an overhead projector which allowed light to shine through and reflect on the wall or screen. Basically, these transparencies are obsolete in classrooms today. Now, let's use this metaphorically.
I've decided to be the transparency in my classroom. And, I've decided to let my heart be the overhead projector. How it works is, I teach from my heart which provides the light which shines through the transparency which reflects on the students. And, here are the reflections dancing on the walls around me.
Every Thursday in my classroom is Thankful Thursday. For morning work, students write one thing they are thankful for that week. I always have mine displayed for them to see first. I've never told them what to write. I've been very mindful and intentional about what I put up for them to see. The first week I did this I got a lot of "I'm thankful for my iPad," "I'm thankful for my parents buying me things," "I'm thankful for recess and lunch." However, as the weeks have passed, and as I have been transparent with my students about who I am and what I'm thankful for, these thankful statements have started transforming a little. This week I saw statements such as, "I'm thankful for God waking me up today," "I'm thankful for being here," "I'm thankful for my friends, family, and teacher," "I'm thankful for my Papa. RIP."
Since the first day of school, I've been reading Wonder to my students. This book is full of transparencies and difficult life lessons. As I read the book, there are times the words are so powerful and beautiful that I stop and tell my students how beautiful the words are to me and what they mean to me. Then, I tell them to really listen to the words as I read them again and again. After two or three repeats, we just sit in silence for a few seconds to really let them sink in, then I smile, and I keep reading. This past week, I got to an event in the book that really just touches my heart. Every time I read these few chapters, I cry out of compassion for the characters. So, during my read aloud of these chapters, I started crying and had to stop for a moment. One of my students got up and brought me a box of tissues, and when I looked up, nearly every child in my class had tears streaming down their face. And, we all cried together. And, at the end of class, we all hugged each other in a group hug. And, it was a pretty awesome moment with some pretty amazing kids.
What I'm learning is the transparency of my heart is reflecting. My students may be the chattiest group of kids I've ever had, and they may be the best actors of doing work at times, but I see them transforming from the inside. I see it in their writing. I hear it in some of their reading responses. I see it in their eyes when I put a fuzzy in our kindness jar. I see it on their faces when we share positives about each other at the end of a hard day. I see it in their interactions with me and with each other when it counts.
As a wife, I've been trying to do the same thing. I'm not the same person I was seven years ago when my husband and I first met. And, I won't be the same person I am today in seven more years. And, the only way for our marriage to work, as we both grow and change over the years, is to be vulnerable and transparent. If we are anything less than transparent, how will the light shine through?
It's tricky being vulnerable because you put yourself out there to take risks. Risk taking isn't always fun or easy. It's scary. It allows opportunities for hurt and embarrassment. But, if you can't be vulnerable and transparent with the one you love, then who can we be vulnerable and transparent with?
Recently, I've realized I withhold some of my thoughts or feelings in this marriage because I love Matt so much that I don't ever want to upset him in any way. I don't want to see him hurt or angry. And, he does the same. The problem this creates is we bottle all of these feelings up and over time the bottle gets full, and we release in a less healthy way. It's like all the pressure builds up and the bottle explodes but our hearts implode. It's strange how it happens. And, recently, it happened to both of us.
I handled it by writing him a letter because I'm not good at conversing when I'm emotional. He handled it by reading the letter and not responding. Then, one morning, after nearly a week of tip-toeing around each other's feelings, Matt sat down next to me on our bed and responded. I didn't really have the right words to say to him. Mostly, I sat in silence and just listened. There were more crying and hugging than words. And, though, we didn't really have any problems to resolve, it felt like everything was resolved. His face looked softer. His body seemed lighter. I felt relieved, free like I could breathe again. It was one of the most intimate moments of our lives together, and it wasn't physical. It was raw, heartfelt emotion. Our connection is stronger and our bond it tighter. We are teasing each other again. We are laughing with each other again. So, it turns out vulnerability and transparency were the key ingredients to my laughter.
Why do I share these stories with you? I share them because I see a lack of vulnerability and transparency in our world. I see a world of Facebook perfect worlds. I see a world of fake okays and goods. I see a world of hurt disguised with empty smiles. I see a world of embarrassment, disappointment, and fragmentation disguised with material things that make us appear put together, whole, and happy. Maybe instead of seeing a problem, a bump in the road, or an obstacle as a failure or an embarrassment, or a crack in our "perfect" lives, we should see them as Kintsugi art in the making. After all, without cracks, there wouldn't be room for the light to shine through, and without the light, we can't repair the brokenness which makes each us a piece of art.
Learn more about Kintsugi here.
lakesidepottery.com
I have several stories of transparency to share with you. They are from my teacher life and my married life.
Back in the day, teachers used transparencies. Clear sheets placed on an overhead projector which allowed light to shine through and reflect on the wall or screen. Basically, these transparencies are obsolete in classrooms today. Now, let's use this metaphorically.
I've decided to be the transparency in my classroom. And, I've decided to let my heart be the overhead projector. How it works is, I teach from my heart which provides the light which shines through the transparency which reflects on the students. And, here are the reflections dancing on the walls around me.
Every Thursday in my classroom is Thankful Thursday. For morning work, students write one thing they are thankful for that week. I always have mine displayed for them to see first. I've never told them what to write. I've been very mindful and intentional about what I put up for them to see. The first week I did this I got a lot of "I'm thankful for my iPad," "I'm thankful for my parents buying me things," "I'm thankful for recess and lunch." However, as the weeks have passed, and as I have been transparent with my students about who I am and what I'm thankful for, these thankful statements have started transforming a little. This week I saw statements such as, "I'm thankful for God waking me up today," "I'm thankful for being here," "I'm thankful for my friends, family, and teacher," "I'm thankful for my Papa. RIP."
Since the first day of school, I've been reading Wonder to my students. This book is full of transparencies and difficult life lessons. As I read the book, there are times the words are so powerful and beautiful that I stop and tell my students how beautiful the words are to me and what they mean to me. Then, I tell them to really listen to the words as I read them again and again. After two or three repeats, we just sit in silence for a few seconds to really let them sink in, then I smile, and I keep reading. This past week, I got to an event in the book that really just touches my heart. Every time I read these few chapters, I cry out of compassion for the characters. So, during my read aloud of these chapters, I started crying and had to stop for a moment. One of my students got up and brought me a box of tissues, and when I looked up, nearly every child in my class had tears streaming down their face. And, we all cried together. And, at the end of class, we all hugged each other in a group hug. And, it was a pretty awesome moment with some pretty amazing kids.
What I'm learning is the transparency of my heart is reflecting. My students may be the chattiest group of kids I've ever had, and they may be the best actors of doing work at times, but I see them transforming from the inside. I see it in their writing. I hear it in some of their reading responses. I see it in their eyes when I put a fuzzy in our kindness jar. I see it on their faces when we share positives about each other at the end of a hard day. I see it in their interactions with me and with each other when it counts.
As a wife, I've been trying to do the same thing. I'm not the same person I was seven years ago when my husband and I first met. And, I won't be the same person I am today in seven more years. And, the only way for our marriage to work, as we both grow and change over the years, is to be vulnerable and transparent. If we are anything less than transparent, how will the light shine through?
It's tricky being vulnerable because you put yourself out there to take risks. Risk taking isn't always fun or easy. It's scary. It allows opportunities for hurt and embarrassment. But, if you can't be vulnerable and transparent with the one you love, then who can we be vulnerable and transparent with?
Recently, I've realized I withhold some of my thoughts or feelings in this marriage because I love Matt so much that I don't ever want to upset him in any way. I don't want to see him hurt or angry. And, he does the same. The problem this creates is we bottle all of these feelings up and over time the bottle gets full, and we release in a less healthy way. It's like all the pressure builds up and the bottle explodes but our hearts implode. It's strange how it happens. And, recently, it happened to both of us.
I handled it by writing him a letter because I'm not good at conversing when I'm emotional. He handled it by reading the letter and not responding. Then, one morning, after nearly a week of tip-toeing around each other's feelings, Matt sat down next to me on our bed and responded. I didn't really have the right words to say to him. Mostly, I sat in silence and just listened. There were more crying and hugging than words. And, though, we didn't really have any problems to resolve, it felt like everything was resolved. His face looked softer. His body seemed lighter. I felt relieved, free like I could breathe again. It was one of the most intimate moments of our lives together, and it wasn't physical. It was raw, heartfelt emotion. Our connection is stronger and our bond it tighter. We are teasing each other again. We are laughing with each other again. So, it turns out vulnerability and transparency were the key ingredients to my laughter.
Why do I share these stories with you? I share them because I see a lack of vulnerability and transparency in our world. I see a world of Facebook perfect worlds. I see a world of fake okays and goods. I see a world of hurt disguised with empty smiles. I see a world of embarrassment, disappointment, and fragmentation disguised with material things that make us appear put together, whole, and happy. Maybe instead of seeing a problem, a bump in the road, or an obstacle as a failure or an embarrassment, or a crack in our "perfect" lives, we should see them as Kintsugi art in the making. After all, without cracks, there wouldn't be room for the light to shine through, and without the light, we can't repair the brokenness which makes each us a piece of art.
Learn more about Kintsugi here.
lakesidepottery.com
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