Reading weekend is for reading the call numbers of TCCS library books, magazines at the dentist’s office, sale notices at the thrift store (c’mon, Mom!), the menu at Culvers, the birthday bread recipe, and wall posts on facebook. It is also a good time to watch movies, go on a hayride, carve pumpkins, cuddle with the sister, sing vociferously, make aloo gobi, and dance to Michael Card.

My first day of teacher aiding was phenomenal. I was greeted by the assistant principal, who showed me to my cooperating teacher’s classroom. She was friendly and down to earth. As far as I can tell, she knows the names of all 140 students that she sees throughout the day in her 1st and 3rd year Spanish classes, and she demands respect from them while still being a very likable person. I found out that they put the native Spanish speakers in separate classes called “heritage” Spanish classes, so I wasn’t overwhelmed by my lack of fluency. I was able to work one-on-one with a student who had joined her class late. He was trying very hard to catch up, and he had the brains and study skills to do it. He notebooked everything I told him, and asked me questions to make sure he understood. Later I graded tests and observed the way the teacher taught the class. Throughout the day I was introduced to many of my cooperating teacher’s colleagues, who were also friendly and professional. And this made me feel friendly and professional, returning their “nice to meet you”s and standing, smiling, tall and confident while working with the students.

Okay, so tomorrow at 7:30 (which is when I am usually just getting up) I have to be at my school in the next suburb, reader to be the most stellar teacher aid within my capabilities. Why is this scary? Because it’s high schoolers, and it is inevitable that they won’t accept me unconditionally like the special needs 5th graders I worked with last semester. Because it’s Spanish class, which I am not nearly prepared to teach. Because it’s a Hispanic community which means I won’t know nearly as much as the students.

I wanted Spanish and high school and a Hispanic student body, but I don’t know if I can handle all three at once!

But I don’t have to be the teacher. Just the teacher aid. Breathe deeply. Go to bed early.

Dude! I’m excited!

It is late, therefore I am tired, therefore I am crabby, therefore I write this poem, which despite my cynical state of mind, ends on a hopeful note:

______

I’m wasting my time.
…I’ll never be called lazy.
I’m burning it up.
…I burn the candle at both ends.
I’m throwing it to the wind.
…Running too fast to feel the wind in my hair.
I’m burying it in the mud.
…Digging myself deeper, I feel the weight of everything above me.

I chase after knowledge
That I’ll soon forget
Because I don’t stop
To ponder and rest
Before I must move on
To asking “What next?”
I’ll be old before mature
If I don’t stop and reflect.

Won’t waste my talents–
I’m trying them all.
Can’t waste my tuition–
I take a full load.
There’s so much to learn,
I just have to get involved.
When I’m at an intersection
I take every road.

I’m wasting my time.
…There is a time for everything.
I’m burning it up.
…A season for everything under the burning sun.
I’m throwing it to the wind.
…So why am I chasing after the wind,
I’m burying it in the mud.
…when all that is good and true is as old and steadfast as mud?

____

So what have I been wasting my time with? All good things; nothing to complain about. Here’s the past two days:

Friday– hit the snooze button. Alarm clock decides to be faulty and just not ring again. But I wake up anyway, although not on time to finish mi narración para la clase de español. So I go to Theology, then finish my narration for the class of Spanish, then go to Spanish, then eat some lunch, then cross cultural psychology, then history. Next I run errands to the offices of several professors. I get in contact with my cooperating teacher who I will be teacher aiding with starting next week. I read two chapters of a book just for fun. Then I realize that my reading time is done, and I go to supper, where I meet my cousins, and we have a pleasant time. Next, Trollstock. This is just plain fun, and I am still with my cousins, and so I have someone to sway to the music with. The band that plays at the end of the night is called Scatteredtrees, and they are amazing. I actually used to be in a band with the bass player and the drummer (Christian Life High School Pep Band). Now they are rock stars, as I always knew they would be. I buy their album and have them sign it, as we catch up on lives that share a piece of past. The rhymes they sing sink into me and I return to my desk to write my own. When I’ve written it all out, I crash up to my bed like a sluggish monkey.

Saturday- no snooze button to push, praise God for Saturdays. I complete this week’s assigned cleaning duties while taking a shower. Finally dressed, fed, and ready for the day, I realize that a trip to the thrift store is in order, as another pair of my pants has sprung a leak in the left knee, and as much as I want to be the grungy girl, I don’t want to be the grungy girl. After a completely unsuccesful trip to the thrift store, where everything that looks good is small, and everything my size is ugly, I return to campus, where I eat lunch with a group of friends who are my acquaintances. Then it is off to the Chicago Shakespeare Theater. “Gloria, if you put on black and white in five minutes you can see a show for free.” And so she does, and we are off. First time downtown this semester, and first time I’ve ever driven there. Hardly harder than Rockford, which is hardly harder than Freeport, which is hardly harder than German Valley, which is no harder than Borchers Road when they’ve just graded (but now it’s paved). No problem, even in the parking garage. We usher for the show, allowing us free seats on the upper balcony, which are still good seats, with the jut stage right below us. They tell the story of Cembeline with great skill. A series of Lori’s intriguing questions gets us through the stop and go traffic filling the roads to Trinity. The Matthew West concert is just starting when we get back, so I go to that, and he sings words that remind me of truths I should never forget. Eat supper, watch a little of the movie that’s on (because it’s Princess Bride), talk on the phone, write a blog.

So far this weekend, I’ve just done fun things, and good fun at that. I haven’t been wasting my time. But I haven’t gotten any of the things that I need to get done done, which is what’s really bugging me. There’s responsibilities, and then there’s opportunities, and then there’s rest. Scared of the responsibilities, I take every opportunity, except for the rare opportunity to rest. Somehow I still manage to complete all my responsibilities, though not to the best of my ability. That is what I mean by wasting time. So here is this writing, an opportunity to rest the burden of the procrastinated responsibilities that try my abilities and test my agility. For me, this is a piece of peace.

More pictures from this summer!

See my Tabblo>

You may have noticed that this blog now contains all the entries of my old blog. I copied and pasted them all in, but I did not copy all the old comments, so if you remember writing an enlightening comment on one of my old posts, you can recomment. Just so you know.

Dear Family, Immediate and Extended,

You are amazing. I’ve realized this semester how much my life has been shaped by all of you. After coming back from a literal mountain-top experience this summer, focusing on school and feeling at home at Trinity has not been especially easy. Under the strain of loads of homework, leadership responsibilities, living with five other young women in a two-bedroom apartment, missing everything about Mt. Rainier, and getting headaches just from the smell of the city, I’ve been a little homesick. But when I’m homesick, it’s not really for that place outside of Freeport. It’s just for family in general. Phone conversations have been encouraging. It was so good to be in Michigan last weekend and to have Mom come visit this weekend. It’s amazing to have my cousin on campus. It’s crazy to realize that many of my best friends are related to me, that I’ve known them my whole life, that we’ve stayed connected the whole time even though we’re spread all over the country, and that there’s no reason why we can’t stay connected for the rest of our lives. Sweet!

Love,

Rebecca

You may be thinking, “Why is she titling her first post ‘third times a charm’?”

The answer is, this is just the latest in a lengthening line of blogs that I have kept. Previous blogging can be found at web.mac.com/thatrebecca (abandoned because it cost money and it had technical difficulties). Even earlier blogging (some of my best writing, actually, especially the stuff written in the wee hours of the morning after hours of pondering at the switch-making factory) can be found at www.xanga.com/galationsoneten (left behind because of its limitation to the xanga community).

So, a new blog is in order. With all this schoolwork and extracurriculars, I still have this deep urge to write and write and write. The keys feel good beneath the tips of my fingers, and the words seem to fit like brick after brick as I build something that leaves me more open and free.

I had something written here, but then iWeb locked up and lost its changes.

I think it was something about how all six of us ACMNP people are here now and that the Sunday service went well and how I am visiting Nate and Hannah for my days off.

We went bowling on Friday and we had a campfire in Ashford on Saturday and so I am getting to know lots of people.