pray. teach. - Broken Grit

Life. What does one say about it? How does one describe it? Life. It's funny. It's heartbreaking. It's merry. It's maddening. It's challenging. When I think of life, I think of a ball of yarn. One afternoon, I left a ball of yarn on the arm of the sofa; it was in a neat bundle sitting peacefully in its place. When I returned home that afternoon, it had been tossed about, strewn all over the living room, knotted & tangled. I couldn't find the end from the beginning. I couldn't maneuver the maze of loops to unknot it. That describes my life...a majority of the time.

Here lately, uh since I don't know August, life has been one hell of a ride. I mean tangles that can't be untangled. Knots so tight that life will just have to move on with them there. Work. Graduate school. The world. Inner turmoil. Disappointment. Stress makes me a crazy person. My mind doesn't function properly under stress. My emotions don't regulate properly under stress. I mean - I guess this is true for everyone - but let me have my pity party for a moment.

Pity party over. 

So, where am I going with all of this jibberish? I haven't a clue. Other than, I need to get it out.

I carry other people's burdens way too much. I carry the burdens of my family. I carry the burdens of my friends. I carry the burdens of my students. And, as we speak, these burdens have made my body ache. My jaws are so tight from clenching them at night that it feels like a knife stabbing in the side of my face. My hips are so tight I can barely rotate them to dance through life. 

So, what does one do?

Well, a few weeks ago, I went to a family function. I'm reconnecting with this side of the family after a long hiatus of not knowing them. Everything was ok. But, apparently, it wasn't. My one drink with dinner turned into two and three and four...and well you can imagine the rest. Not my proudest moment. The Alley in me really comes out in situations like these.

A few days ago, I got snippy with a co-worker. What I got snippy about really wasn't worth getting snippy about. I could've and should've pushed it aside, but again my inner Georgia took over, and my better self lost control. 

I'm not one that can bundle up emotions into a nice yarn ball and set them aside on the arm of the couch. No. Over time, they build up and eventually get strewn all over the room - knotted and tangled. And, I currently feel them building up. The difference this time is - I'm aware and ready to make a conscious decision to let my voice be heard.

And, I'll start with this statement: EDUCATION IS IMPORTANT. Education opens minds and hearts. Education turns the world from black and white to technicolor. Education fuels compassion. Education fuels empathy. Education fuels sympathy. Education fuels truth. Education fuels equality. Education fuels love. And, I don't just mean education from books. Books are fantastic but can be dangerous if we don't know how to analyze the narratives. Books are phenomenal sources of knowledge but can be dangerous if we don't know how to seek out the biases. Education is more than just books and reading. Education is experience. Education is exploration. Education is problem-solving. Education is navigating everyday life. Education is hands on. Education is trial and error. Education is a whole body and soul experience - at least it should be. And, as an educator who values education, I promise to educate all humans not just college and career ready humans. Book smarts will only get us so far. If one can't apply the knowledge gained, what use is it?

I've been listening to Bryan Stevenson's book Just Mercy, and in many senses, our education system isn't much different than the justice system. Unfortunately, not all education is equal in this country. He states in his book that:

 I worked in a broken system of justice. My clients were broken by mental illness, poverty, and racism. They were torn apart by disease, drugs, and alcohol. Pride, fear, and anger...in their broken state they were judged and condemned by people whose commitment to fairness had been broken by cynicism, hopelessness, and prejudice.

As I listened to his voice, I thought of all the times I have felt this way as an educator in America. All the times I've wanted to stop. All the times I've thought, "I can't do this. Why am I doing this?"

But then, as I continued to listen to Bryan Stevenson, he said this:

I don't do what I do because it is required or necessary or important. I don't do it because I have no choice. I do what I do because I'm broken too.

I'm broken too. I have a hard time disconnecting from my work because I know how it feels to be broken. To feel like you aren't seen or heard. Being a teacher myself has enlightened me. And, to this day in my profession, many days go by that I still feel like I'm not seen or heard. But, I have grit. After all, my grit is what has gotten me this far.

As an educator, I am committed to fairness and I will not let the cynics, or the hopeless, or the prejudice muffle my voice. I may stumble from time to time, but I always pick myself up, and I have never stopped fighting.

Sometimes, that neatly bundled ball of yarn needs to be jerked out of its peaceful state and strewn about in order to declare change. 

Have grit. Be the change.