Thank A Teacher

Imagine, for a minute, you show up for your first day of work at your new job, your find your desk, and at it sits your computer but no chair. So you look around confused, and finally get up the nerve to ask "Is there a chair for me?" To which the response is "Oh you were to provide your own chair. Maybe you can try to steal Steve's chair in the next cubicle over, he seems to enjoy sitting on a stability ball." You cower over to Steve's desk, feeling guilty for borrowing his chair, but you need it to work, so you grab it and roll it back. You open up your computer and turn it on. You click on the software you are to use to complete your work and it says "This software is not available, the license is out of date." and after some conversation with coworkers you discover that your company has decided not to renew the licenses on your software, so "you can use a calculator and paper to do the tasks." You begin the calculations on some paper you found around the office, and after some time, open your drawer to staple a few of your pages together- no stapler. Shrugging, you decide to make it work, and continue on with your task. Mid-day rolls around, and you decide you'd like to meet with some of your peers. You notice a nice large conference room at the end of the hall, and discover that it is empty. No table, no chairs. You are told that the employees of the company are going to have to provide the office furniture by asking, pleading, and begging their friends and families for donations for your conference room....

This may sound absurd. It may sound unrealistic. Perhaps laughable. Exaggerated. But, this, my friends, is what is happening all around our country. These are the tasks that stand before teachers each year. 

Some people know. If you grew up in a teaching family. If you married a teacher. If your sister, best friend, or neighbor is a teacher. Some people know, see first-hand and understand. But many do not. And this summer, as I have been working hard to create a ideal learning environment for my students, it has been on my mind. 

What does it take to "create" a classroom? You see, when you accept a teaching position, you're accepting the responsibility of creating a second home for many kids. You're saying yes to creating a place that feels warm, welcoming and comfortable. You're promising to build an environment that promotes the love of learning, builds readers, encourages collaboration, minimizes distractions, and says "this is somewhere I want to be". And, most of the time, you're agreeing to do it on your dollar and your time. Because when a teacher is given a classroom, they are given just that- an empty room. Bulletin boards are blank. Book shelves are empty, and potentially don't exist. Furniture is scarce. There is no office chair, or stapler, or tape dispenser. You aren't given colorful signs, and comfortable furniture, and welcoming decorations. You're given a plain, empty, dull room, some desks, the keys, and your summer. And with those materials, you're job is to build a second home for kids. 

You purchase things. You borrow things. You get creative. You ask for donations. You scrounge up things from your house. You scour the school seeing if, maybe-just-maybe, another teacher is willing to part with a piece of their hard-earned classroom. You spend hours making, printing, laminating, cutting and hanging signs, charts and decorations. You covet garage sales, thrift stores, and Craigslist hoping to find the best deal on something for those kids. And then you spend days, upon days, upon days taking that classroom from an empty, white, dull room to one that is fun, innovative, interesting, welcoming, and homey. 

And friends, I'm not saying we don't all work hard. Oh how hard I've seen so very, many professionals work. I've seen them give of their times, their talents, their personal life, sacrificing for the people they serve. So please don't hear me wrong, I'm thankful. And us teachers, we love our jobs. We love the ownership we have of our classroom. And buying all those coordinating bins, and tubs, and stools to make it look just right. Our hearts are filled with joy when we step back and look at our completed masterpiece. So please don't hear me wrong, I'm not complaining. 

But when August comes, and you take those precious, newly-clothed, bright eyed children to their classrooms. When you watch them find their desk tag and locker tag, and marvel at the bean bags and stools and colorful displays, the chock-full book shelves with endless options of reading materials. When you see the bulletin boards hung and waiting for learning tools and student work. And when you see a teacher standing at that door of her perfectly-made classroom with a huge, proud smile on her face... Please thank her. Because every detail of that classroom was created while she was "on vacation", with her hard-earn dollar. 

One Year

One year ago today, at 4:56 a.m. a babe was born. We had prayed, and laughed and cried in anticipation of your arrival for 9 months, and there you were in our arms. A tiny, 6 pound bundle. Our little boy. That day changed our lives. 

As you have grown our hearts have grown right alongside you. Every milestone, every giggle, every tear, our hearts swell. Although exhausted, Dad and I spent that first night in the hospital wide awake, in awe, in fear, in joy. We didn't want to miss a thing. We wanted to protect you. We wanted you to feel safe, comfortable, loved in your new home. 

Since that first night we have spent many more sleepless nights; holding you, rocking you, singing to you. Still in awe, still full of joy, still terrified. You see, this parenting thing, it's hard. It's scary. So scary. And it pulls on your heartstrings. It makes you a rock and a puddle, sometimes all at once. In your year on this Earth you have made us feel every possible emotion. We've been tried and tested and blessed in more ways than we could have imagined, often wondering how we could feel more _________ (fill in the blank), and then we do. 

Louis, this year, the world has looked different. Because, when you become a parent, you start seeing things in a different light. They say your life will change, but they don't tell you that you'll hear of parents losing their child and tear up right in the middle of the doctor's waiting room. They don't tell you that you'll see a kid jumping in puddles, and catch yourself smiling at the thought of a mud-filled laundry room one day. Or that when you hear a baby crying at a restraurant you'll want to write the parents an "I understand" note. They don't tell you that you'll get a babysitter and talk the whole date-night about your baby, or spend an hour trying to soothe an overly-tired child, get him to bed, then long to wake him just to get a few extra snuggles. They never tell you that the world's ugliness will look a whole-lot uglier because you'll picture those wrongs being done to your very own child. Or that keyboards, and sun rays, tissue paper and spatulas will become favorite items because they'll bubble up that beloved giggling sound. They tell you so much about how wonderful it is, and how fast it goes and how your life will never be the same, but they don't tell you about being at your wits end because you haven't slept, and you haven't showered and you haven't eaten, and you just got puked on, and feeling like you want to scream and cry and call it quits, but loving that little human so much that not a moment of it matters as you rock late into the night. 

Now you're one. We've spent a whole year getting to know you, and your amazing personality. Making mistakes. Crying, laughing, losing sleep, and clinging onto those cuddles. One year doing this parenting gig, and I'm certain that we'll spend the rest of our lives saying... They never tell you. But maybe that's because they can't tell you. Maybe words just don't suffice. 

Happy Birthday, sweet boy. I can't wait to see all the amazing, beautiful, wonderful ways you will open our eyes to this world and change our lives. We love you, but how much we could never tell you.

Dear Louis, 60 Days.

Two months of full hearts and pure joy.

Dear Louis Robert,

               

You are two months old. We have spent 60 days getting to know your every in and out. 60 days of smiles and tears, joy and frustration, 60 days of pure love. Even now, I look at pictures from that perfect Thursday morning when the world was still asleep and Dad and I welcomed you into this world, and I long to relive that moment over and over again. The doctor set you on Mommy’s chest, and you just stared up at me with those huge eyes. You just took in the world. No tears, no crying, just wide-eyes staring into Mommy’s. The moment you made me a Mom, and my world would never be the same. And ever since, you have been looking up at me with those same wide eyes. Asking for food, asking for a clean diaper, asking for a nap, asking for cuddles, longing to be loved. And that’s exactly what I plan to spend my life doing- loving you.

               

Right now loving you is so easy. You are cuddly, smiley, and full of joy. You are not yet influenced by the world, and your every need is met by Mom and Dad. We can hold you, protect you and calm your tears. But someday I know that loving you may become more of a challenge. Those days you decide to break the rules, ignore our requests, make messes, talk back. The days when no amount of rocking will calm your tears or erase your fears. Those days you are less than perfect. And in those moments I hope to remember that perfect Thursday morning, when all the world was asleep and the unconditional love that flooded my heart, and I vow to guide you, teach you, love you and hold you through it all.

                

You are my baby. In this crazy, chaotic world it is always you who stops time while I take in your tiny features. It is always you who reminds me that my most important job in life is to love you, care for you, and raise you well. I will make mistakes. Oh will I make so many mistakes. But I promise to wake up each day with renewed joy, energy and strength knowing that God gave me you. Together we will learn, grow, discover and change. Together we will be a family and for that I am forever grateful.

                

Another month of loving you, each day I dream of your future, yet long for the past, and live in the moment soaking you in. Each day I observe you, in awe of just how fast you are growing. And in the blink of an eye you will be yet another month older, and another milestone wiser. So for now I will cherish each of our days together, holding you, loving you, and being your Mom.

I love you always,
Your Mom

Your Mom

Dear Louis...

This man has been blessing our lives for 3 whole weeks today. I can't believe it, yet I somehow  know I will spend the rest of my life uttering those same words.

Dear Louis,

    I could have never imagined what it would be like to be your Mom. There are simply no words sufficient for the emotions you experience when you receive that title. The amount of pure joy, and love, and pride is overwhelming. To me, you are perfect in every way. As I care for your needs, I breathe in the sweet smell of your skin and observe every feature that makes up your tiny body. Each fold of the skin, each tiny fingernail, a reminder of the miracle you are. I watch you sleep so peacefully, often checking to ensure that your chest is still, in fact, moving up and down. With each breath you take I am consumed with unexplainable love and graciousness for such a perfect gift.

We've only know each other for a short time, yet you are the biggest part of me and I know that forever you will be my baby, and I your Mom, what a feeling that is. I whisper the words "I love you" into your ears often, hoping that you will never question if you are loved, cared for, admired. I whisper the words "God loves you" into your ears, and long that you would understand the truth of that statement for your whole life. 

We thought we had everything, until we had you. Now life has begun in a whole new sense of the word. With every cry, with every smile, with every grasp of your hand, our hearts know the deepening love that is parenthood, and we know we are so blessed. 

Three weeks, they have flown by, yet somehow it is already hard to imagine life before you. Before we were Mom and Dad. Before our evenings consisted of caring for your needs, and staring at your perfection. It is hard to imagine our family of three being anything but that. With each passing day we learn your idiosyncrasies. The way you grunt when you're hungry. Your dislike for swaddles, and your persistence in getting your arms free. Those wrinkles in your forehead that show up with each facial expression you discover. How you sleep with your hands on your face, and- to our dismay- are so comforted by that pacifier. The way you love to bounce, and swing and stare at the world around you with intent and curiosity. 

You are life before blemish, before fault, before stain of this world has reared its ugly head. You cry out in hunger and you trust that we will come, because trust is all you know. You whimper in discomfort of a wet, dirty diaper understanding that Mom and Dad will make it better. You melt into our arms when we hold you, a safe place of rest. And I pray that our arms will never fail to be a safe place of rest for your head, for your heart. 

Each passing day with you is a blessing, yet a bittersweet reminder of just how fast time truly flies. So I try to soak in every moment, holding you, rocking you, loving you- our greatest gift. 

I love you always,

    Your Mom

Nesting- Part 1.

January 19th. 31 weeks today. We have reached the single-numbered weeks until Baby Remark makes his or her arrival in this world. Although pregnancy has been a wild ride of emotions I wouldn't trade it for anything. Awaiting the arrival of your bundle of joy is unlike any other wait. The emotions are raw and real, terrifying yet full of joyful anticipation. Your body is growing, and along side it your heart, falling in love with a person you have yet to meet.

Becoming parents has already taught us so much, and I cannot wait to finally hold our little nugget in my arms. Until then, however, I will keep myself preoccupied 'preparing the nest.'

The latest project: a bunting banner for behind baby's crib and a bunting banner to use for monthly photos of Baby Remark. 

Keep an eye out for baby's completed nursery in the coming weeks...

The Miracle of Life

From the moment that test said "positive" (actually the fourth test said positive, because I didn't believe the first three), I was over the moon excited. Getting to share the news with Rob that we would soon have the titles of "mom" and "dad" was one of my favorite moments to date. But I don't think it fully sunk it. Morning sickness. Extra doctor appointments. Crazy hormones. It was all happening, but I still I hadn't totally wrapped my head around the idea that inside me was a baby. Our baby. The one we would hug, and cuddle and love for the rest of our lives. The one who would change our lives. 

That was until Wednesday

In the past few weeks I have been feeling flutters that have turned to harder "whacks" inside my belly. The reality that a little baby was in there became more real with each feeling of movement. 

But Wednesday... Our 20 week ultrasound... Seeing our child. That was a feeling that can never be described. I am certain that the joys of parenthood will continue to be topped over and over again as we experience many more firsts with baby Remark, but for now it may have been the very best thing I have ever laid my eyes upon. 

Baby found its thumb. 

We are already so in love.

Our Environment.

Kids spend the majority of the first 18 years of their lives inside the 4 walls of a classroom. A great deal of who they are, what they like, where they are going, who they will become is formed inside those walls. I am a small part of it. The P.E. teacher, the music teacher, their coaches, their friends, the principal, the art teacher... We are all a small part of it. I think about this every morning when I walk into my classroom. How does it feel to walk through that door. Welcoming? Warm? Inviting? Organized? Ready? Cozy? I hope every single one of those are a resounding "YES". I know that for me, walking into a warm, welcoming, organized environment just makes me feel more at ease, and I would assume the same is true for many of my littles who step foot inside my classroom each day.

For that reason I want the learning environment I create to be one that is all of those things. I want the room to feel more like a living room where we gather together for family meetings and reading stories together. I want it to feel like home. A place of solace, comfort, ease. A place where we can grow, laugh and learn together.

There are many things that make a classroom feel like home. The physical setting, the emotional climate, the people whom we share it with... Each of these factors make a huge contribution to the feeling we get when we enter a room. All of these pieces are major factors on how a student will succeed in school.

Enter the physical learning environment. It would be easy to say that students are not affected by what surrounds them physically, day in and day out, but to say that would be inaccurate. Children thrive on learning environments that are efficient, predictable, and comfortable.

I introduce you to Mrs. Remark's learning environment. One I hope is warm, safe, cozy and comfortable. One I hope students will look back at with fond memories of a home away from home- if only for one year of their lives.