Category: education

Finding and holding onto the optimistic

~ Elizabeth W ~ Leave a comment

Today’s post is a re-“print” of a reflection I wrote over five years ago after teaching a specific summer course to international military members. For some reason, the spring months are usually where I reflect on my teaching career and especially this year, remember the good, the positive, the optimistic. This is different than “toxic positivity” running rampant right now, especially in education circles. I in no way want to dismiss the difficult and seemingly impossible – just bring forth a memory from the back of my mind to steel myself for the remainder of the school year. Enjoy!

Originally written and published in July 2015.

“You’re our teacher?” a chorus of voices asks as I walk in five minutes late and breathless from losing my way on the first day of the writing pre-course at the Sergeants Major Academy on Fort Bliss. I’m young, and I’m intimidated. I’m not even 30 and I know that these men (and one woman) have served for 15 to 20 years or more in order to achieve the highest enlisted rank in their military. What is more is that out of the 23 students I’ve been entrusted with for the summer session, there are 21 countries represented, and they have been hand-picked by their military or government to represent their countries by attending the Sergeant Major Course.

As we give introductions to the class, myself included, I think about how I’m glad my husband is a soldier so I’m not completely blindsided by the military culture here. I also wonder, How am I going to pull this off? Twenty-three students from 21 countries. Twenty-three accents, 23 levels of English, 23 levels of writing, 23 experiences with education, 23 people who are most likely older than me.

I’ve anticipated this day for the past three months, and I’ve met with the other instructors, past and present, to get the lowdown on this course. What is it like? How do you fill the time? I have lesson plans at the ready, PowerPoints and group discussions as my artillery. I’m no stranger to the classroom: I began my career in a small room at the back of a music store when I was 14, teaching piano lessons to people of all ages and ability levels. I graduated from college and taught high school Spanish for two years, when I was barely older than my students. I studied linguistics and TESOL in graduate school, and after graduation I landed my first full-time faculty position at the university.

The previous year had been a challenge as I tried to navigate the choppy waters anyone encounters in a new academic position. New people, new administration, new students every semester. New languages, new countries, new accents. I had transitioned from teaching Spanish to English-speakers in rural Illinois to teaching intermediate English to Mexican nationals on the US-Mexico border to teaching advanced composition to students from many countries on several continents. I hesitated to take this summer position because of the busy year, but knew I would get cabin fever over the summer. I decided to go for it.

We start out on a first-name basis; I tend to think this is one of the best icebreakers, a way to remove walls and get past our titles christened by our institutions. I repeat their names until I get them right – it’s something my students in the past have always wanted me to do. We spent four hours the first day doing typical first-day things: introducing the course, learning names, collecting a writing sample, filling out a questionnaire. I go home exhausted but less nervous for the next day. Tomorrow I see the same sea of camouflage fabric, and day after day I am better able to match the pattern with the country, and the countries with the flags. I anticipate learning more about their experiences in writing and English.

“We are used to being told what to do,” one soldier says in response to a seemingly unorthodox writing task I’ve asked them to complete: freewriting. They comment on their grammar and spelling and handwriting, that it’s not “accurate” or “good” or “neat”. I tell them that for freewriting, I don’t care about their grammar, spelling, or handwriting, but that their ideas are what are valued. I think a little impatiently, Can we just get something – anything – down on paper first? Can we get away from whatever they’ve been taught “good” writing is? I say it countless times over the six-week period: “Let’s just write.” While it isn’t said out loud, I think we all know that this isn’t just a research writing class.

“Too many chiefs, not enough Indians,” remarks one soldier with a laugh as his classmate serves as the group’s scribe. These soldiers’ experiences as leaders have allowed them to transfer their knowledge of leadership to the classroom. They are not shy to participate in class or to give their opinions. They debate and disagree with one another diplomatically. They complete any task with focus and participate fully and graciously in class activities. Group discussions and activities, grammar games, whole-class presentations by the students: these are components of any language class I’ve developed or taught. At some level, English learners share similar characteristics and experiences in language acquisition. They can benefit from many of the same activities and approaches.

“When I flew into El Paso, I thought, ‘Am I back in Iraq?’” An example of our informal conversation is followed with raucous laughter from comrades who can relate to the American sponsors’ deployments to the Middle East. Although these soldiers hail from 21 different countries, the common threads of military service and separation from family unite them. One of the purposes of the pre-course is not just to teach the soldiers standards of American academic writing, but also to encourage long-lasting multinational friendships as they move into the Sergeant Major Course, in which international students will comprise only 9% of the total class. Some of the students have their American sergeant major sponsors present in my pre-course, all of whom offer clarification of directions given in class, advice for where to eat, rides to the Academy, and opportunities to interact with another native English speaker.

“You’re literally affecting nations,” my husband tells me as I recount the events of the day over dinner. We’re in the third week, almost halfway through, and our classes have become tight-knit groups despite knowing each other for a short amount of time. At this point, the class exemplifies the dynamics of a familiar, comfortable, and symbiotic environment: I’m the teacher, they’re the students, and we all learn from each other every day. If I try to wrap my mind around the implications of my husband’s observation, I become speechless.

“Wow, it’s time for another break already?” On the top of each of the four hours we have a ten-minute break, and as the last three weeks go by, there doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day to accomplish all that my static lesson plans dictate. I’m used to this feeling and change lesson plans accordingly. Their topics for the final writing assignment, an argumentative paper, cover issues such as United Nations policies, preservation of the Amazon rainforest, and training the next generation in the military.  As I read their final papers, I watch these countries pass through my fingers and realize how important professional written and oral communication are in the global context.

In the course of four hours a day, six days a week, I never assigned grades to any paper.  I think the mere twenty-some of us can agree that this exceptional environment that education textbooks only wish they see in action taught us more than any number grade or comment in red ink could. We brought the world into four walls, and now we will take what we learned back out into the world.

Making amends

~ Elizabeth W ~ Leave a comment

For a long time I was at odds with my own past. My own experiences. It’s a weird place be to because there’s animosity and sadness and regret, but the only person it’s directed to is the person in the mirror. Or out into the void. It’s very confusing.

I went to a small private university only 15 minutes away from where I grew up. It was the only college I applied to, and with my grades, GPA, and “well-rounded” experiences, I knew I would get in, and I did. I was majored in Spanish and secondary education, and I remember with my mom meeting the head of the foreign language department in his dingy office that smelled like old books and cigarette smoke. I was a little unsure of my decision, but my conscience reminded me that this was the only school I applied to, the only one I believed and told I could go to, so I just went with it.

Westlake Hall, Bradley University | where I learned how to be a teacher

And I went with it for four years, four really difficult years. I worked a couple jobs outside of my 15 to 16 hour semesters and carefully plotted my classes so that I could graduate in four years. I even took a literature and an earth science class at the community college and a Spanish grammar class at another university close by so I could transfer the credits.

I lived in my room at my parents’ house, but also out of my car and in the university library. I found solace in coffee and green tea in travel cups and those ridiculously expensive smoothies they served at the student center. I racked up a credit card with purchases of bottled Starbucks frappuccinos.

And then I graduated with about $50,000 in student debt, a mixture of different kinds of loans all with low interest rates (thank goodness). I couldn’t study abroad due to jobs and bills, so I took some loan money and flew to Spain to visit a friend. I went on a missions trip to Bolivia. I tried to have as many immersion experiences in the Latin world so I would be ready to teach Spanish.

For a long time, the student debt hung over me, hung over us. We got married right when I graduated, so then all my private school debt became our private school debt, and I felt horrible about it. Every day. It was a dark cloud hanging over our new life together.

Eventually we paid all of it off (February 2017, nine years after my graduation). That helped me feel better about what I thought was a ridiculously expensive degree and a mediocre experience. Representatives from the university calling me on a Sunday evening asking me for more money couldn’t get off the phone without hearing an earful about how I worked two jobs and now was a teacher who could not afford to give even more money to the institution.

“Mrs. Mercies Per Mile, we’d like to hear about your experience at Bradley. What were some of your favorite extra curricular experiences as a student?” the bright-eyed work-study student would ask.

“My extra curricular experiences involved working two jobs and visiting my long-distance boyfriend. I had no time for anything else, not even friends, because I wanted to escape that expensive place as fast as possible, ” is what I wanted to say. Eventually I stopped answering the calls.

Recently, indirectly, I’ve come to terms with the difficult experience of undergrad. I realize how fortunate I was to even go to college, to have at least one parent who was college educated, and other family members who were, too. To have a working vehicle, and to be employed. To study something that actually has never failed me as far as acquiring skilled work. To study something that gave me a springboard for graduate studies and a slight shift in my career. To have a really solid liberal arts education that got me thinking outside my own world, that actually did a great job of teaching me how to be a teacher (besides the one measly foreign language methods class).

I’ve been back to visit the university only a couple of times in the past 12 years. Once to try to change my name on my diploma (didn’t realize that I couldn’t, and now I don’t want to) and once with my sister just to walk around. I guess you could say I’m not your typical alumnus, going to homecoming, sporting all the gear, reminiscing on the parties and social gatherings (I never did go to a college party…).

This transition in my feelings towards that era of my life is actually a transition in my feelings towards the person I was during that time. I was the extremely busy and overworked person I harp about now. I was nervous and anxious when it came to just about everything. I was very intimidated to speak Spanish or act like I knew anything about the culture. I was unsure of myself in so many ways, and I think I was actually embarrassed of the person I was.

pensive, unsure, full of doubt but trying to make it look like I have it all together
ca. 2006

But it’s okay. I’ve grown a lot in the past 15+ years. I’ve had some incredible experiences in life, in further education, in other cultures that have given me something new to latch onto.

First, I heard that high school was the best time of my life, and then when I got to college I heard that no, that was the best time of my life. Both were not the best time of my life, and it’s very depressing to think that for some people, they peak in high school or college. What about the (hopefully) 60+ years beyond that?

I think making such a black-and-white declaration of what is supposed to be the best time of someone’s life is myopic at best and damning at worst. We don’t know what everyone goes through in those stages. Some people, like me, have hope that other parts of their life will be the best.

For example, the life I’m living now is pretty damn amazing. I have an education, a long-term partner, a beautiful and safe home, a career that’s been built up over many years and experiences. But more than that, I’ve made a series of good decisions (and been a recipient of some blessings and luck) to get me here. Somehow I was able to see beyond the debt and the hardship and the infertility and even the Illinois River Valley to something new, perhaps wild and untamed, but always worth it.

I want to always pine for the life I’m living right now, not get snagged on the hard things in the past, or the attitudes I had, or the person I was. It’s all important and worthy of mention and meditation. All experiences in life converge into one tiny pin prick in the expanse of time – this moment right now.

Plan A is Plan A

~ Elizabeth W ~ Leave a comment

In a one-on-one session with a student today, these literal words came out of my mouth: “Bear with me with biology; it’s been 20 years since I’ve had this class.” (For the record, I teach ESOL but a student came to me for language help with her bio class.)

I became a teacher long before now. Professionally, I’ve been at it for about 15 years. But before that I taught piano lessons at my local music shop. Before that, I was giving my sisters lessons using a chalkboard mounted on the wall behind the Laz-E-Boy in the living room.

I thought teaching was a great aspiration, but for me it was always a placeholder until I could do the thing I really wanted to do: take care of my own children.

When I learned that having my own children probably wasn’t in the cards for me (for many reasons.. check out those posts here, here, and here), I had a major identity crisis. Yes, I was a teacher still, but in my heart of hearts I was also a mother. I was a wife and a mother before anything else. Besides “teacher,” it was probably the first identity that emerged when I was a little girl. I’ve always been very maternal, be it with dolls, stuffed animals, my sisters, the younger siblings of my friends. I always knew I would be very suited for a long-term relationship as someone’s wife. And even then, becoming a wife was an avenue for becoming a mother. (Yes, I’m very traditional about some things. But only for myself. You do you.)

It’s taken now many years and dozens of therapy sessions, plus a whole lot of mental bandwidth, to disengage from my identity as a mother. During that identity crisis, I was still serving as a teacher but refused to accept that it was now (or still?) my life’s work. Another one for the record: I do believe in callings, in God’s will. As such, teaching has always been my life’s work.

It hasn’t been until this school year that I’ve finally felt liberated from my dormant and unfulfilled “mother” identity. It could be that I’m more comfortable in my own skin. Or that I’m back teaching in a high school as I spent four years in elementary, which has a role of its own in my healing from the hurt of infertility. I spent a lot of time and energy exploring other potential life paths in the past few years.

I started my professional career in high school, first in student teaching at a school in a very small town in the middle of cornfields, and then in my very own (windowless) classroom of wide-eyed Spanish students in another school surrounded by cornfields. I even started my (amateur) teaching career while I was a high school student. So many positive formative experiences happened to me while I was that age.

There’s a type of magic for me of being in a high school building. There’s not only nostalgia, but a feeling of “home,” and if you lead me to the band room, that feeling is only amplified.

School in post-COVID-closure 2020 may look very strange to my 14-year-old self who once sat in freshman biology class thinking about what 34-year-old Elizabeth would be like, or do with her life. But there’s something about imparting knowledge on others, about creating a classroom community, about leaning into the hard days and frustrations that makes me feel like I belong.

I don’t communicate these words lightly. In the five weeks since school has been back in session I have considered quitting my job at least five times. I could write many many posts about the difficulties of teaching these days, and a treatise on the inequities and bureaucratic bloat of the American public education system.

But late last week I had a realization. Me di cuenta… I realized that now is a good time to lean in. To embrace my chosen profession. To receive my new students, whom I have known for all of a month. To welcome new families, immigrants or not. To keep creating lessons that are fun to teach and hopefully to learn. To call on my creative brain to step up. To take advantage of the wealth of pedagogical knowledge I’ve amassed in the 13 years since I was a teacher candidate.

In our society that says that having a plan will make you successful, “they” are awfully silent about the plans that emerge from the shadows, or a child’s dreams that want to be Plan A when they grow up. I have come full circle, where my Plan A is still my Plan A.

Saying 'no' means saying more

~ Elizabeth W ~ Leave a comment

I’m sure you’ve heard it said that ‘no’ is a complete sentence. Usually you’re told this if you’re not sure if you should or can do something and the person you’re talking to wants to encourage you to put your foot down and say ‘no’.

I don’t think our society is there yet, to hear only the word ‘no’. People want explanations, reasons, negotiations. And in some aspects it makes sense: we’re kind of built on those things. Early in the formation of this country, we did say no, to the King of England, to the Church, to the two that were inextricably tied together. But I think we’ve lost something along the way.

In the year of 2020 so far, I have made it a resolution to say ‘no’ to things, events, attitudes, situations, that do not advance my growth as a person. This may sound individualistic, but I really believe it’s in our best interest as members of society to model what we want to see in the world.

I want to see people who are content (not necessarily always happy), satisfied (with what they have); rested, not ragged.

I want to see my fellow teachers in the profession for years to come instead of dropping out of the ranks due to burnout, overworking, endless fruitless and sometimes abusive interactions with parents, lack of administrative support, and guilt tied to taking a day off for physical or mental health. Statistics have shown for years that the attrition rate of teachers is close to 50% – think about it. Half of all teachers leave the profession in the first five years. Is that what we want for our children? Teenagers?

I want to see my fellow congregants at church happy to be involved in their chosen ministries, satisfied in their own spiritual lives that they can contribute to others without becoming weary. I want to see Christ followers who have the time to delve into the word, into prayer, into meditation or contemplation. I want to see people who truly bring Christ into and outside of the church building, serving and loving everyone.

But it is obvious, especially with recent events, that society is not there yet. Will it take a global pandemic to get us there? Maybe. Honestly, I’m hoping. I hope after this, and even throughout, people will begin to say ‘no’.

This takes a fortitude and a level of critical thinking that doesn’t occur when you say ‘yes’. Most of the time, people say ‘yes’ to all sorts of things without first discovering the terms and conditions – how long is the commitment, how toxic might the relationship become, what are all the subordinate tasks of what I’m agreeing to do. We say ‘yes’ to please people (see my post on that here) and because our own self-confidence isn’t built up yet.

And then we falter. We run ourselves ragged and can’t sleep and have high levels of anxiety and become more susceptible to illness. All because we did not take the time, or were never taught, how to critically evaluate a situation and our place and role in it.

Therefore, saying ‘no’ means saying more. At least to ourselves. It means more direct communication. So, fellow American, stop with the “I don’t like confrontation” attitude. Saying ‘no’ does not mean that you are being ‘mean’ or ‘confronting’ someone. If someone is bold enough to ask you to join them in whatever task, adventure, or attitude, then it’s well within your right to ‘confront’ them by saying ‘no’. And you don’t need to explain yourself further.

However, to that last point, you do need to do some work on the inside to get you there. So don’t answer right away. Sleep on it. Think it through. Talk it out with someone. Pray about it. And after that’s done, still all you need to say is that one word.

Since our society is in the very beginning stages of hearing the word ‘no’, there will be opposition. You will probably be going up a creek, with or without a paddle. People might give you a sideways glance, or if they’re so bold and confrontational, send you packing for a guilt trip.

That’s okay – just leave the packing to them and the ticket on the table.

Recent events

~ Elizabeth W ~ Leave a comment

This post is a mash-up of all the random happenings around our household over the past week. It certainly feels like much longer that my husband’s been home.. we’ve settled into a routine quickly. But as our life always is, our routines change.

Weeks 3 and 4 of 50K training were not so stellar. I did less than the recommended amount of mid-week runs, and week 3 did not have a long run. I was out with a sinus/chest infection of some sort. Yesterday after debating all weekend when to do the long run, we went out for 16 and ended up with 12.7. My legs from my ankles to my hips were on fire; the pain was comparable to the end of the Illinois Marathon.

I was disappointed… from here on out the long runs get longer and after bonking at the EP Half and now this run yesterday, I just don’t think the 50K is going to happen for me. Mentally I feel pretty good, but my body screams no whenever I go longer than 10. My right knee was hurting yesterday too, which is something I haven’t felt in about a year, even with the high-mileage months I had last fall (80, 90, 100). I really don’t want to give up on it yet, but if I can’t pound out the 16, 18 and 20-milers soon it ain’t happening. The Jemez Mtn Trail Runs have a 13.1 option so I will shoot for that. I’m obviously trying to force my body and mind into something that isn’t jiving.

On Saturday after arriving to Ruidoso for our first full weekend together after 10 (!!!!!) months, we tried the long run on some trails. I got about a mile into it before I started to hate it. I love nature, I love hiking… but the whole thing was just pissing me off. I hate having to look at my feet so much, having to stop to walk around boulders, etc. It was also cold as heck and sleeting.. or something. So we hiked back to the car and put off the long run.

I thought I’d just love trail running.. but that seems that that’s not the case, at least not right now. I have a lot of fears about trail running that I need to either accept or get over before I can tackle a race like the 50K, and those fears weren’t helped after I got lost on a 9-mile trail race in November. I need to transition slowly into trail running for my body but also for my mind’s sake. Maybe I’ll shoot for 31 miles before I turn 31. 😉 That gives me three years.

It’s been a busy (and expensive!) week with my husband back. We junked his car since the engine was shot (1996 Honda with 225000+ miles), both got new phones as he needed an upgrade and I completely shattered my iPhone… soon we’ll buy another car. We had a great weekend in the mountains just relaxing and talking. Something I’ve always loved about us is that there’s never a lull in conversation, or lack of impressive vocabulary words, something this aspiring linguist can appreciate.

March will be busy with Aaron’s trip to Illinois to visit family and my trip to Portland to present at the TESOL conference. I also need to get the bulk of my thesis written. The analysis is done, so the writing won’t be too terrible.. just time-consuming. But I’m saving that for another day, not during spring break. Here soon we’ll be propelled into the never-ending summer in the desert. 🙂

You Just Never Know

~ Elizabeth W ~ 1 Comment

Friends, meet the newest TA and graduate student at the University of Texas! This is crazy. I’m going to GRAD SCHOOL. All the student-ish nostalgia I wish I had had at Bradley is now mine! Along with many many chai lattes purchased at Kinley’s…

I got a call yesterday from the advisor of the MA program in linguistics offering me a last-minute teaching assistant position that had opened up. Along with that I will be studying full-time with a graduation date of May 2014. (And I’ll get to wear one of those cool hood thingies…)

HOLY COW. I applied back in January, really out of curiosity and as a possible way out of my last full-time job. Since the beginning of the year, I’ve tried to slow down my ambition, sometimes aimless and fruitless. In the past I’ve applied to several grad programs, never feeling peace about any of them, and treating them as a Plan B to whatever I was doing at the time.

I guess I felt back in January that it wasn’t the right thing at the time. I didn’t feel at peace, especially about taking out more loans to study more and put my career on hold, and that I was trying to find any reason to get out of a job I hated. What I really would have liked was a teaching assistant position, and definitely not a research position. UTEP’s graduate tuition is very reasonable, but I still couldn’t get myself to commit. Forcing things just isn’t my style any more; I usually end up disappointed and remorseful of my efforts that could have been better used somewhere else.

My plan for the fall was to continue nannying part-time and be a stay-at-home wife the rest of the time. Aaron’s been gone a lot since April, and it’s nice to have evenings and weekends to spend together. Just live a simple life, you know? The past few weeks I’d really been feeling a contentment and peace wash over me… one morning I woke up thinking, “This is my lot in life. Better to make the most of it rather than squander time and energy wishing life were different.”

Also over the past couple weeks I’ve really felt as well that this is not the time for us to start a family. Even if Aaron told me today he was ready, there was something that would hold me back. Maybe two, three years down the road. We have no idea what life holds for us after the military, or maybe he’ll stay in the military. Only God knows. After years, seriously, YEARS, of off-and-on baby fever, I feel like I can breathe! God’s peace is just amazing.

So when I received that call yesterday, it felt right. In my undergrad, I’d plan everything out weeks, if not months before hand. Books and notebooks and pens would be ready and stacked way before the required time. I bought my parking sticker way in advance. I even planned out my study time. Now, I have to crunch all this into just a couple days (I register tomorrow) and when I get back from Honduras, I’ll be hitting the ground running to catch up with the first week of classes that starts on Monday.

But I’m okay with that! I’m not freaking out, and there’s no panic attack in sight. UTEP is HUGE compared to Bradley, but I’ll figure it out, right??

This feels good. This feels right. And I can’t tell you how ecstatic I am that my plan to go to grad school is finally working out. Maybe in a perfect world I would have started right after graduating Bradley, but only God knew the preparation I’d need emotionally and financially. Only God knew that I’d be in the right place at the right time.

I love that I’ll have a job for the next two years. There’s a plan in place. I’m investing more of myself into this city and its people, which lately I’ve allowed God to give me a heart for. I get to study something that I want to study, that can open up more doors than other grad programs I’ve applied to. This is really happening!

So don’t be surprised if you don’t see regular blogs (um, I don’t think you do now…), or if you don’t hear from me as often. I’ll just be grabbing hold of what’s been waiting for me… drinking lattes and writing papers, reading textbooks, walking across campus (just a much larger campus), and oh, you know, TEACHING COLLEGE. No big deal. 😉

Fear of failure

~ Elizabeth W ~ 1 Comment

I’ve had a major breakthrough recently that explains, well, a lot. I have a crazy fear of failure and a major lack of commitment… I know it’s only human, but it fuels a lot of my decision making.

I went to Bradley because I was afraid I couldn’t afford or be successful in med school. I mean, I was at the top of my class, but could I really be an expert in science and medicine??

I majored in Spanish instead of music (piano) or math because I was afraid I’d have to actually work at something. My piano teacher,  a professor at Bradley, wanted me to practice at least four hours a day. Um, what?! And as far as math goes, Calc 2 was hard. Like, crying my eyes out and panic attack before finals hard. (P.S. I got an A. Yeah.)

I’m good at Spanish. I’m good at teaching. In fact, I think I’m a pretty great teacher. I’m glad I went to school for something that I could do and use in the real world. I really believe that I’m called to be a teacher.

Honestly, the reason I haven’t pursued a teaching position here in El Paso is not explained by the following statements excuses:

  • I’m happy with being a part-time SAHW (stay-at-home wife).
  • I’m okay with working part-time.
  • I’m relieved to not have to do the lesson planning, grading, and dealing with parents. (Oh wait, I deal with parents in my job more now than I ever did teaching.)
  • I’m a military wife; who will want to hire me?
  • At least I have a job in my field.
  • It’s expensive to recertify in another state.
  • I’ll look for something when we “settle”.
  • I’ll just spend the time getting my Master’s. Might as well.

The excuses make me sick. What happened to the go-getter who actually worked for what she wanted?? I’m afraid that girl’s been hiding for a long, long time. I’m not sure when the transition was, but somewhere along the way, I must have failed at something and then became afraid.

That’s it, folks. I’m afraid. I’m scared that my Spanish will just suck. I’m scared I won’t pass my certification tests the first time. I’m scared of not getting an interview. I’m scared of getting an interview and totally botching it. I’m scared of actually getting a job and having to perform at a certain level. I’m scared of not getting my contract renewed.

I’m a walking self-fulfilling prophecy. This is not how a follower of Christ walks in faith!

I could go on about the other things in life I decide I will, you know, certainly fail in before I even try, but I’ll stick with this topic since it’s the most pertinent in my life right now. I think about it, a lot.

So. This is what I want to do. I want to eventually secure a full-time teaching position. If that happens next fall, fine, if not, fine. Chances are we’re going to be here for quite a while, if not the next four years until Aaron’s done. And we might even settle in Texas somewhere depending on job opportunities. Thing is, I’m gonna take steps towards my career goal(s). I want to teach. I want to someday be a professor.

I’m still planning on starting my Master’s (and yes, I’m even scared of that!).

Now that I’ve realized my biggest weakness, I can begin transforming it into my biggest strength. I’ve decided to have a better attitude at my current job and see it as a stepping stone to the next big thing in my life.

Half-a-versaries and grad school…. what?!

~ Elizabeth W ~ Leave a comment

So much is happening this week! I’m not even in school and I can feel the stress of the holiday season. This weekend we have two parties to attend, one of which we still need to buy for. Next week, things should calm down somewhat. Aaron will be working half-days and we don’t have tutoring for the next two weeks; just conferences and testing. While my paycheck come the first of January will suck, at least I get to enjoy my time off with my husband.

Speaking of whom… December 21 is our 3.5-year anniversary (of our church ceremony. November 16 was the “technical” 3.5 year thing.) I know, it’s almost as lame as celebrating a half birthday. But hey.. we’re that much closer to four years. After December 21 I can now say that “we’ve been married for going on four years”. This is our NINTH Christmas together. Uhhhh. Where the heck did time go?!

Guess what I heard from someone who just got on at one of the districts here? He told me that for many positions there are 300 applicants. 300. Reeedonkulous. Sigh. I’m having a hard time believing that after I shell out upwards of $400 for my tests that Texas wants me to retake that I’ll be the lucky winner of a teaching job here. It also took this fella two years, yes, TWO, to land this job. We’ll be here three, probably four years total, and I’m not willing to sit around and see if I can get a job, only to leave in one or two years.

My next plan of attack is to get accepted to the University of Texas at El Paso to start my Master’s degree in linguistics. There are two specializations I could do: applied linguistics and Hispanic linguistics. According to our ever-reliable Wikipedia, applied linguistics is “interdisciplinary field concerned with real-world language issues”.

Sounds like fluff, huh? Not so much. Examples of class titles within this degree are Psycholinguistics and Reading, Teaching Second Language Composition, Bilingualism, Phonology, Computer-Assisted Language Learning, Pedagogical Issues in English Structure, etc. With this degree I will gain knowledge of teaching ESL and bilingual students. If I go the Hispanic linguistics route, I would probably have enough hours in Spanish to teach at the community college level. I can’t deciiiide!

In my opinion, this is a much more useful degree for me at this juncture than one in education, and more enjoyable. Blech. I think out of all my undergrad classes, education classes were my least favorite, excluding the middle school courses taught by an amazing professor who is now a superintendent. Most of the time we did fluffy group projects that did not prepare us, or at least me, for teaching in the real world. I did learn a lot in my secondary assessment class, where I learned how to write and structure tests. Anyyywayyyy.

My ultimate career goal is to be a professor. (Did I ever tell you that?) I’m not too concerned about being full-time… I just want to be able to teach, and teach what I love: Spanish and language. I love grammar, syntax, phonology. It’s all so interesting and applicable to every language. Another job that would be awesome would be a reading or language specialist in a school. I just can’t pry myself away from linoleum hallways filled with little humans who are ready to skip class learn. Just can’t.

I would like to start classes in the summer, if possible. I’m also going to apply for an assistantship. Being a TA would be a good experience, I think. I’ll at least be eight years older than college freshmen….. :shiftyeyes: I wouldn’t mind tutoring in the writing center, either. I mean, I have a way with words. Not quite sure what that way is besides loquacious, but whatevz. I also would LOVE to take some elementary Arabic classes… not sure if they’re open to grad students though.

Since I graduated from Bradley, I’ve probably applied to three or four grad programs. I was accepted to ISU’s Spanish grad program, but obviously never went. I also considered school counseling. But, this time… I think it’s really gonna happen!

(In case you were wondering, my #1 reason for going back to school is to wear one of those weird robes that has a hood and really really flow-y sleeves at graduation. Just so we clear that up.)

Folks, it’s only a matter of time before I get a brand-spankin’-new planner and UTEP shirt & car decal. Watch out.

Becoming bilingual

~ Elizabeth W ~ 1 Comment

Since coming to El Paso, I’ve had many good experiences with speaking Spanish, contrary to my expectations. So far at work I’ve had two conferences with parents who don’t know English very well, and I’ve taken some inquiries, too. One time last week, someone called while my boss and one of our assistants was in the room. The person on the other line said “Buenos días” and I started talking to them. The assistant left the room with her mouth hanging open… she thought I would need her help translating. I asked her later how I did.. she said I spoke slowly but very well and that I was easy to understand. I was elated.

In our care group (small group) we have a family from Juárez who moved to El Paso about ten years ago. I’ve been able to talk with them weekly and it’s been great for both of us; they’re trying to learn English, which is why they started coming to our church.

I’ve learned two new words that are used quite often…

-Huera or huero means “blonde”.. I’ve been called this affectionately by friends here.

–Mande is a phrase used when politely asking someone to repeat themselves or when asking them to tell you something.

I love the mix of cultures here… it’s much more seamless than I thought it would be. Oftentimes people go between Spanish and English without even realizing it.

I think I’ve (finally) realized what I want to do when I go back to school, if I go back… I want to get my bilingual certification. The psychology of second language acquisition eludes and fascinates me.

I apologize for not having posted in awhile.. our life is busy but still wonderful! We really like it here.. much more than I thought we would!

So, here’s the deal.

~ Elizabeth W ~ 2 Comments

I’m learning a lesson. A big one. And it’s calllllled…..

CONTENTMENT.

Sigh. This is probably the hardest lesson I’ve had to learn in awhile… and I’m actually relearning it, just in a different area of life. Last time I learned it was last summer when Aaron gallivanted off to Korea and the Army just.. left me here. So, I became content in my jobs, and living alone, and taking care of, well, everything. And I did it well.

Now the tables have turned a little bit. I have my husband with me, every day, every night and that in itself is pretty amazing. I mean, have you tried living the same zip code, much less the same house with your spouse before?? It rocks. I love that we can eat meals together almost all the time, and workout together, and all those other married things. Just sayin’…

But then there’s this part of me, that’s actually a really big part of me, that I can’t shake. It’s the part of Elizabeth that seems to only be happy when she has a title outside of “Wife” and is bringing home some bacon. Heck, it doesn’t need to be a lot of bacon, but some. And she also has to be doing something creative or worthwhile, preferably something that has to do with what she paid $50,000 to learn about… She has to be productive about 110% of the time, or otherwise feels like a failure.

I’ve had my ups and downs over the past couple weeks. Guess what? The grass isn’t any greener down here. I’ve felt guilty for racking up all this debt in a freaking private university education just to sweep the floor or wash a few dishes. I should be out there in the world, making money to pay off my debt.

However, my husband is the greatest gift ever. He doesn’t see it that way at all, and he encourages me to do whatever I want. If I work, fine. If not, fine. He reminds me daily that we worked hard to be able to live (not just survive) on one income… I have to remember that. WE worked hard. We BOTH worked hard. When we got married, everything became ours,  even our debt.

I had an interview earlier this week for a job I was actually on the fence about. I didn’t get it, and I was honestly a little relieved. It just didn’t feel right. Last night I filled out some more applications, including Sylvan, Starbucks and other jobs at a school district (clerical and aide jobs). I don’t feel an overwhelming need to teach full-time and have my own classroom, but I do feel a need to teach in some capacity. It is what I was made to do, I believe.

Aaron asked me if I could do anything, what would I do? I said that I would be a mom; however, I know it’s not the proper time yet.

Today I got a call from Sylvan. I have an interview tomorrow, and I would love to work for them again. The schedule is flexible and part-time if I want it to be.

A few things keep going through my head…

“God delights in exalting our inability.” ~David Platt

“God equips the called.” (Not sure who said it.)

The book of Ecclesiates… that all the toil under the sun is meaningless.. what really matters in eternity?

The thing is, I have to learn this lesson soon. I can’t move forward in life until I can be content with what I have right now. Life is too short, people are too precious, the weight of eternity is too great, for me to be whining about a perceived problem that I’ve created all on my own. So, here it is: No More Pity Parties for Elizabeth. I’m really really rreeaallllyyy gonna try. And pray. Maybe you should check in on my husband at some point soon…

Who knows what I will do in El Paso, but I do know one thing. At my funeral, my loved ones aren’t going to be standing around telling each other about that one time I didn’t work full-time and make such-and-such salary. They will talk about what kind of person I was.. my character, how I treated people, how I loved Jesus, how I nurtured my children and served my husband. Those are the things that matter.