Becoming a "real person" has been one of the scariest things in the world. But the payoff is already huge in ways that I only dreamed of. Turning down the Albert Lea job and hoping for Chaska was a risk; taking the Chaska long term sub job still feels like a risk to the change-resistant me. But if I get to live and work here for only a year, I think it may be one of the best in my life.
I love my department!
How many math teachers does it take to get a computer monitor to display? Well, apparently 5 - me who didn't know how to make it work, my mentor who didn't know how to make it work, went to get 1 teacher to help and came back with 3. That's the kind of support that I've already gotten going into this school year. I rarely have to ask for help because my co-workers come and offer it before I even have questions. They are truly amazing. Their reassurance, encouragement, and advice has meant so much to me already. And we haven't even started the official school year yet. I am blessed.
I love my school!
There's so much energy and pride (the good kind) at Chaska High School. The students and parents that I've met our great. The administration and I are on the same page for the most part in terms of educational philosophy. The staff is supportive of each other and is at the same time focused on serving students. It's a fantastic place to be. And I'm so looking forward to it this year.
Location! Location! Location!
So, I recently determined that I'm a suburb girl. When I went job hunting, I realized that I really wanted to live in a place that would feel like home in Maple Grove. Found Chaska. Certainly not the same, but it still feels like home. Add a terrific apartment, the opportunity to live with a life-long (literally) friend, and get my own dog. Love it. Add to that the fact that I'm still relatively close to home. I am blessed. You see, my parents live close enough that they had planned on coming down to help assemble my bed mid-week; as I wound up being super sick that day, they also helped get my dog out on walks and bring sick-appropriate food. Plus I got much more sleep because they were there to help with other things. Not to say that I need to rely on my parents constantly. But it's nice that when I need some extra help, they're only a phone call and short drive away. So incredibly blessed.
A dream come true
Having known since junior high that I wanted to teach, I've always thought about what it would be like to teach alongside my own teachers. But to have the opportunity to teach alongside the one who's made the most lasting impact on my life? In my first teaching job? I am blessed. And a boost to my own self worth. When Jen wound up in Chaska, I always said that they deserved her more. So to find myself worthy to be teaching at the same school? I am truly honored. Further bonus: having someone who's known my ups and downs over the last six years around to check in on me. I am so immensely blessed.
So I'm hoping that that helps to describe how I've felt over the last week. I love my community. I love my apartment, and roommate, and dog. I love my district. I love my school. I love my co-workers, especially my department. Am I nervous about starting with students on Tuesday? Heck yes. But I'm also ready for the adventure. And I know that I'll have a strong support system to back me up every step of the way.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Why I'm So Passive - Part 2
I wrote a post over a year ago entitled "Why I'm So Passive." I ran across it recently as I was just browsing through my previous blog posts. But I didn't realize just how relevant it would become again at this point. I mean, I'm still as passive as ever. But I didn't think that I was quite this bad anymore.
On the bright side, I'm not quite as passive in the workplace. In my student teaching experiences, I learned that it's okay to say "no" in the workplace sometimes - and I've even been lucky enough to work with colleagues who won't let me take on extra work to keep me from working too hard. I even learned how to handle constructive criticism as it pertains to my teaching. I still avoided getting into conversations that would lead to conflict. But I thought that perhaps I was taking steps forward.
I mean, I still have a lot of work to do. I still allow most of my friends to walk all over me for fear of conflict. I struggle to share my own desires or even needs with friends. It's that social anxiety again. But I've started to open up about my opinions and frustrations again. I mean, when I don't have solid arguments on something, I won't step into a discussion - which is why I don't generally join in on discussions regarding political topics, or even post much on my favorite Buffy forum which is the most respectful, level-headed forum I've ever seen on the internet. But if it's something I feel strongly enough about, I've started to be willing to speak up again. Because everyone's always told me that the healthy thing to do is to state what I'm thinking and stand up for what I believe in. So I chalked up the previous lost friends, allies, and self-confidence to bad choice of friends and social anxiety. And I spoke my mind. And though frustration may have been the cause, I put in every effort to be as objective (though direct) as possible. And what happened? It blew up in my face. Again.
So why am I supposed to be assertive? It's not even two steps forward and one step back. I feel like I'm back at square one. Or even further behind it. Because just as I dared to widen my circle of trust, I have had to restrict it further than ever before. Just as I dared to speak up again, I not only lost my will to speak but was told that it would be better for me to not speak up at all. For the first time I don't feel like I'm a horrible person, but for the first time I feel even more inclined to become an invisible presence wherever I am. What's the point of being something other than passive? Because being anything other than passive blows up in my face.
On the bright side, I'm not quite as passive in the workplace. In my student teaching experiences, I learned that it's okay to say "no" in the workplace sometimes - and I've even been lucky enough to work with colleagues who won't let me take on extra work to keep me from working too hard. I even learned how to handle constructive criticism as it pertains to my teaching. I still avoided getting into conversations that would lead to conflict. But I thought that perhaps I was taking steps forward.
I mean, I still have a lot of work to do. I still allow most of my friends to walk all over me for fear of conflict. I struggle to share my own desires or even needs with friends. It's that social anxiety again. But I've started to open up about my opinions and frustrations again. I mean, when I don't have solid arguments on something, I won't step into a discussion - which is why I don't generally join in on discussions regarding political topics, or even post much on my favorite Buffy forum which is the most respectful, level-headed forum I've ever seen on the internet. But if it's something I feel strongly enough about, I've started to be willing to speak up again. Because everyone's always told me that the healthy thing to do is to state what I'm thinking and stand up for what I believe in. So I chalked up the previous lost friends, allies, and self-confidence to bad choice of friends and social anxiety. And I spoke my mind. And though frustration may have been the cause, I put in every effort to be as objective (though direct) as possible. And what happened? It blew up in my face. Again.
So why am I supposed to be assertive? It's not even two steps forward and one step back. I feel like I'm back at square one. Or even further behind it. Because just as I dared to widen my circle of trust, I have had to restrict it further than ever before. Just as I dared to speak up again, I not only lost my will to speak but was told that it would be better for me to not speak up at all. For the first time I don't feel like I'm a horrible person, but for the first time I feel even more inclined to become an invisible presence wherever I am. What's the point of being something other than passive? Because being anything other than passive blows up in my face.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Actions Speak Louder Than Words
People at my church say that they value the youth. They say that they want the youth to be present, to be involved. People are disheartened when they see how few youth actually are around on a consistent basis. And I'm bummed by that too - but I don't blame the youth for not wanting to be around. Because actions speak louder than words.
I have spent slightly over a decade watching how the youth in my church are treated, and if one thing is certain, it's that the youth aren't fully valued. My biggest observations - the youth almost always get the short end of the stick, the youth are almost always blamed for what's wrong in youth ministry, and the youth are almost always viewed in mind of the future and not for today.
Nearly all discussions of youth revolve around their worth in the future. Confirmation itself has tended to focus on adult concepts and theology rather than the everyday relevance that teens both desire and need. (Not to say that a solid Bible and theology background aren't useful - it's just that the majority of teens aren't going to build those things into their faith foundation if they don't see the everyday relevance.) Worries about the strength of faith in youth tend to revolve around what happens when they leave for college rather than when they leave the walls of the church building challenged to live their faith on a daily basis. And I can't count the times I've heard "The youth can't really do that" simply based on their age and assuming it means lack of ability or lack of faith depth. When I was a youth I learned to cling to 1 Timothy 4:12:
The youth program at my church has been in a serious slump for a number of years now. Not to say that no one's tried to start anything. There have been numerous attempts to start up youth groups, youth choirs, and youth Bible studies but to no avail. The youth show up once or twice and then they just stop coming all together. So the youth must not want to be there, right? Why even bother? But the better question to ask is: Why don't they want to be there? In the process of trying to start up yet another youth group, I've had the opportunity to talk to different youth about their desire to be involved and what kinds of things they do and don't want to see. One response has stood out to me above all others:
On top of all this, the youth tend to get the short end of the stick. For instance, when the church ran into budget troubles a number of years ago, the youth director position was one of the first to go. An even better example: the church building is nearly evenly split between adult and children areas where the youth get one small room to themselves. But during my time as a youth we took pride in our room and tried to keep it nice. Today you still see a bashed in door that has been there for years though it should have been replaced (I think the many are being punished for the actions of a few). Most of the comfortable seating had been taken out until last Sunday when a group of young adults decided that it was time to move their favorite couch back into the youth room before the new youth group started. And most recently, the youth apparently became the best place for storing the choir risers (which are platforms, really) that had been removed from the sanctuary. The same young adults that moved the couch back in tried to implement a creative solution to this problem but to no avail. So, at the beginning of the summer, this is what youth who walked into their room saw: a bashed in door that has never been fixed, a bunch of uncomfortable chairs because they can't be trusted with the comfortable ones, and giant choir platforms stached in the back corner because the "youth" in youth room is clearly synonymous with "storage." At least the walls aren't baby-poop brown anymore (as described by two people with interior decorating degrees), but the new paint job was never quite finished either. So tell me, when you place yourself in the shoes of one of those youth: do you feel valued?
My heart breaks for the youth. Because it's been over a decade since I started this battle, and it doesn't seem to have gotten any better - it may have even taken a turn for the worse. I'm not saying that there aren't adults who balue the youth because I see ones that do. Perhaps it's simply that the loud minority gets heard. But the overall messages that I've seen sent to the youth: You are all troublemakers. You are to blame. You are less. You are not valued. How long will it be before the words "We value our youth" stop and actions begin to speak the same message?
I have spent slightly over a decade watching how the youth in my church are treated, and if one thing is certain, it's that the youth aren't fully valued. My biggest observations - the youth almost always get the short end of the stick, the youth are almost always blamed for what's wrong in youth ministry, and the youth are almost always viewed in mind of the future and not for today.
Nearly all discussions of youth revolve around their worth in the future. Confirmation itself has tended to focus on adult concepts and theology rather than the everyday relevance that teens both desire and need. (Not to say that a solid Bible and theology background aren't useful - it's just that the majority of teens aren't going to build those things into their faith foundation if they don't see the everyday relevance.) Worries about the strength of faith in youth tend to revolve around what happens when they leave for college rather than when they leave the walls of the church building challenged to live their faith on a daily basis. And I can't count the times I've heard "The youth can't really do that" simply based on their age and assuming it means lack of ability or lack of faith depth. When I was a youth I learned to cling to 1 Timothy 4:12:
"Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, and in purity."But it's hard to cling to these words when nothing you do seems to change the way anyone views the youth. It can be very hard for anyone to see value in themselves for who they are today when the people around them don't seem to see the same.
The youth program at my church has been in a serious slump for a number of years now. Not to say that no one's tried to start anything. There have been numerous attempts to start up youth groups, youth choirs, and youth Bible studies but to no avail. The youth show up once or twice and then they just stop coming all together. So the youth must not want to be there, right? Why even bother? But the better question to ask is: Why don't they want to be there? In the process of trying to start up yet another youth group, I've had the opportunity to talk to different youth about their desire to be involved and what kinds of things they do and don't want to see. One response has stood out to me above all others:
"It's not going to be like confirmation is it? Because I tried going to that other youth group that was started a while ago, and it was just like Confirmation, so I stopped going because I'm so over Confirmation."What does this statement tell me? First, that if what we offer the youth beyond Confirmation is just the same thing over again, then they're not going to come (well, duh!). Second, that, though Confirmation has been continually reformed for a number of years now, what we're doing still isn't working. Along those lines, I was recently informed that the reason that all the couches were taken out of the youth room was to prevent the youth from falling asleep during confirmation. Let me tell you something - I spent 3 years of weekly Bible study growing deeply in my faith through both discussion and lecture while sitting in super comfy couches, and I never recall anyone falling asleep - it's all about the delivery. So here's the thing - when the youth don't want to be at church and/or are bored during their time there - you can't immediately place 100% of the blame on them. I analogize it to my role as a teacher. When the majority of students don't understand a concept or do poorly on a test, I don't reprimand them for being lazy, inattentive, or dumb but instead look at what I did, ask myself what I should have done differently, and look for ways that I can change my instruction and/or assessment to better my my students' needs. Heck, I've even asked students for feedback on how I can make things better. And guess what? Most of them give constructive feedback on how I can make things better. And guess what? Most of them give constructive feedback, and we're able to move on together in a more positive direction. The youth ought to be treated with the same respect. Is that to say that the youth are never to blame? Certainly not. In the busy lives we lives, priorities get turned around sometimes. Even I fell to prioritizing homework and activities over my faith when I was part of the youth program. But if the youth are given all of the blame all of the time, they're simply not going to want to be around, nor would anyone else of any age.
On top of all this, the youth tend to get the short end of the stick. For instance, when the church ran into budget troubles a number of years ago, the youth director position was one of the first to go. An even better example: the church building is nearly evenly split between adult and children areas where the youth get one small room to themselves. But during my time as a youth we took pride in our room and tried to keep it nice. Today you still see a bashed in door that has been there for years though it should have been replaced (I think the many are being punished for the actions of a few). Most of the comfortable seating had been taken out until last Sunday when a group of young adults decided that it was time to move their favorite couch back into the youth room before the new youth group started. And most recently, the youth apparently became the best place for storing the choir risers (which are platforms, really) that had been removed from the sanctuary. The same young adults that moved the couch back in tried to implement a creative solution to this problem but to no avail. So, at the beginning of the summer, this is what youth who walked into their room saw: a bashed in door that has never been fixed, a bunch of uncomfortable chairs because they can't be trusted with the comfortable ones, and giant choir platforms stached in the back corner because the "youth" in youth room is clearly synonymous with "storage." At least the walls aren't baby-poop brown anymore (as described by two people with interior decorating degrees), but the new paint job was never quite finished either. So tell me, when you place yourself in the shoes of one of those youth: do you feel valued?
My heart breaks for the youth. Because it's been over a decade since I started this battle, and it doesn't seem to have gotten any better - it may have even taken a turn for the worse. I'm not saying that there aren't adults who balue the youth because I see ones that do. Perhaps it's simply that the loud minority gets heard. But the overall messages that I've seen sent to the youth: You are all troublemakers. You are to blame. You are less. You are not valued. How long will it be before the words "We value our youth" stop and actions begin to speak the same message?
"Preach the gospel at all times. When necessary, use words." - St. Francis of Assisi
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Faith Like A Child
I have had the privilege to spend the last 5 days as the photographer for my church's VBS. It was my second year in that role, and I loved (nearly) every moment of it. I love seeing the joy. I love watching Crew Leaders (all teens) interact with their crews of children. I love that, because it was my second year, I was able to get to know kids' personalities and interests this year rather than learning tons of new names after my summers away at camp. And I love worshiping with them.
You see, I've been struggling with worshiping on Sunday mornings at my church for a while. It's something about the atmosphere - not in the service itself but in the congregation. I go to worship at my church and it feels dead. There's no joy. There's no heart. I go there and I exist because to lose myself in worship would be out of place. It's felt that way for years. And it's greatly due to that reason that I've long considered finding a new church.
But there's something that keeps pulling me back in - the kids. And not just the young ones. The teenage kids too - actually, especially the teenage kids. Because I love them all - the ones who follow the rules and the ones who don't; the ones who have strong faiths and the ones who have none; the ones who are like me and the ones who aren't. I love them all. And I want to be part of their lives.
My faith grew more through the ministry of youth and children this week more than it ever has through an adult-centered ministry. Watching Crew Leaders share God's love with their crews unconditionally. Seeing stories of the Bible come to life in children's young eyes. And most of all through worship. Because when I worshiped with all the kids at VBS, they had that heart. Together we got lost in worship. The time wasn't about obligation; it wasn't about performance - it was about losing ourselves in praising God.
If only the other "grown-ups" understood this. The children and youth of the Church have so much to teach us. So much to share with us. I've grown up in a church environment that focuses only on preparing children and youth for faith in adulthood. What gets lost is what faith means now. In an age about relevance and authenticity rather than obligation, expecting that this "Church of the future" will actually show up in the future is absurd.
Even more importantly, in my experience, the children and youth are the ones who've got this faith stuff figured out. It's that childlike faith - believing undoubtedly, loving unconditionally, serving unquestioningly, and worshiping wholeheartedly. Not to say that no adult has this. The adults I know who have faith like a child are some of my favorite people on this planet. But it seems that the adults who think that it's the grown-ups that teach and the young ones that learn seem to always have the power - or at least they tend to get their way.
Tonight after an amazing week, I was plunged into a situation to the opposite end of the spectrum - from a place where I had hope for my church to a place where I understood once again why I struggle being there anymore. And my heart hurt. Yet in that moment came clarity - just because I'm an adult doesn't mean I have to submerge myself in their world. I will spend the rest of my life working with youth in the Church - because they're worth it and the adults who don't understand that aren't worth spending my time with.
This weekend I set out on an adventure along with four other young adults. We are starting Jr High and Sr High youth groups in an effort to give the youth a place that they can grow in both their relationship with God and with each other - because it's been a long time since the youth in our church have had something like that that's not Confirmation or something just like Confirmation. I'm looking forward not just to the faith-based part but also to simply really getting to know them. Because I love them. And they're worth it.
You see, I've been struggling with worshiping on Sunday mornings at my church for a while. It's something about the atmosphere - not in the service itself but in the congregation. I go to worship at my church and it feels dead. There's no joy. There's no heart. I go there and I exist because to lose myself in worship would be out of place. It's felt that way for years. And it's greatly due to that reason that I've long considered finding a new church.
But there's something that keeps pulling me back in - the kids. And not just the young ones. The teenage kids too - actually, especially the teenage kids. Because I love them all - the ones who follow the rules and the ones who don't; the ones who have strong faiths and the ones who have none; the ones who are like me and the ones who aren't. I love them all. And I want to be part of their lives.
My faith grew more through the ministry of youth and children this week more than it ever has through an adult-centered ministry. Watching Crew Leaders share God's love with their crews unconditionally. Seeing stories of the Bible come to life in children's young eyes. And most of all through worship. Because when I worshiped with all the kids at VBS, they had that heart. Together we got lost in worship. The time wasn't about obligation; it wasn't about performance - it was about losing ourselves in praising God.
If only the other "grown-ups" understood this. The children and youth of the Church have so much to teach us. So much to share with us. I've grown up in a church environment that focuses only on preparing children and youth for faith in adulthood. What gets lost is what faith means now. In an age about relevance and authenticity rather than obligation, expecting that this "Church of the future" will actually show up in the future is absurd.
Even more importantly, in my experience, the children and youth are the ones who've got this faith stuff figured out. It's that childlike faith - believing undoubtedly, loving unconditionally, serving unquestioningly, and worshiping wholeheartedly. Not to say that no adult has this. The adults I know who have faith like a child are some of my favorite people on this planet. But it seems that the adults who think that it's the grown-ups that teach and the young ones that learn seem to always have the power - or at least they tend to get their way.
Tonight after an amazing week, I was plunged into a situation to the opposite end of the spectrum - from a place where I had hope for my church to a place where I understood once again why I struggle being there anymore. And my heart hurt. Yet in that moment came clarity - just because I'm an adult doesn't mean I have to submerge myself in their world. I will spend the rest of my life working with youth in the Church - because they're worth it and the adults who don't understand that aren't worth spending my time with.
This weekend I set out on an adventure along with four other young adults. We are starting Jr High and Sr High youth groups in an effort to give the youth a place that they can grow in both their relationship with God and with each other - because it's been a long time since the youth in our church have had something like that that's not Confirmation or something just like Confirmation. I'm looking forward not just to the faith-based part but also to simply really getting to know them. Because I love them. And they're worth it.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Young People in the Church
What it comes down to: many young people aren't in the church. This is a concept that has been on my heart for quite some time now, a concept that's been nagging at me at least since the time that I entered my church's youth program. It was only last night that I was posed with the question as to why my own church can't manage to get youth involved. And just this afternoon, these articles came to my attention:
I'll admit, I cannot be unbiased to this issue because I've lived in it. I've experienced the lack of relevance, belonging, value, and respect I've felt as a youth and young adult in the Church. I've seen it even more in my peers. Though I attended a Lutheran college where many of my friends came from faith backgrounds and held a belief in God had become disenchanted with the Church which they had come to see as judgmental, hypocritical, and irrelevant. Even I, with a solid faith foundation, have found it increasingly difficult to live my faith daily. But I rest easier with the assurance that I know that God loves me no matter what and that He will be beside me throughout my life, whether I acknowledge his presence daily or not. But what saddens me is that many youth and young adults don't know the same, and unless we find a way to reconnect them with faith communities, how will they ever know?
Where does the problem begin? Often from the time students enter the "youth" age group, particularly confirmation-age in many churches. From the time I entered junior high, I felt like I had no value within my church. Sure, there were people who valued me and my peers, but the congregation as a whole didn't value the youth, at least not in their actions. We were consistently judged, patronized, belittled, and disrespected as a group. I was lucky enough to have a solid foundational faith family to look to for encouragement in my faith. Not all of my peers were so lucky - I don't blame them for not wanting to come back. One of the highest needs of my generation and the ones that follow is a need for belonging, and I know plenty of youth who haven't found that in the Church, especially as faith communities tend to be just as clique-y as middle schools and high schools.
Another of the great needs of my generation and those that follow is a need for relevance. Just as questions of "When am I ever going to use this?" abound in my classrooms, the question of "How can I use this in my life?" abounds in the heads of youth and young adults when they go to church, whether it's in worship or in small groups. But for whatever reason, the abstract concepts of being "Christlike" are never made all that applicable to the lives of youth and young adults. I sit in sermons where examples, particularly meaningful ones, related only to adults who are middle aged or at least who have children. Occasionally a shallow example gets thrown in for us youth and young adults, usually pertaining to school. Newsflash: youth and young adults are more than just students. Youth and young adults desire something more than that.
We desire to learn in ways that are relevant, authentic, and deep. We want a place where we can grow, explore, and question. We want to belong. We want relevance. We want to connect with God but struggle to do that in the Church - so where are we supposed to go?
- "Reaching Out to Young Adults Will Screw Up Your Church"
- "Young People Should Be More Committed to the Church"
I'll admit, I cannot be unbiased to this issue because I've lived in it. I've experienced the lack of relevance, belonging, value, and respect I've felt as a youth and young adult in the Church. I've seen it even more in my peers. Though I attended a Lutheran college where many of my friends came from faith backgrounds and held a belief in God had become disenchanted with the Church which they had come to see as judgmental, hypocritical, and irrelevant. Even I, with a solid faith foundation, have found it increasingly difficult to live my faith daily. But I rest easier with the assurance that I know that God loves me no matter what and that He will be beside me throughout my life, whether I acknowledge his presence daily or not. But what saddens me is that many youth and young adults don't know the same, and unless we find a way to reconnect them with faith communities, how will they ever know?
Where does the problem begin? Often from the time students enter the "youth" age group, particularly confirmation-age in many churches. From the time I entered junior high, I felt like I had no value within my church. Sure, there were people who valued me and my peers, but the congregation as a whole didn't value the youth, at least not in their actions. We were consistently judged, patronized, belittled, and disrespected as a group. I was lucky enough to have a solid foundational faith family to look to for encouragement in my faith. Not all of my peers were so lucky - I don't blame them for not wanting to come back. One of the highest needs of my generation and the ones that follow is a need for belonging, and I know plenty of youth who haven't found that in the Church, especially as faith communities tend to be just as clique-y as middle schools and high schools.
Another of the great needs of my generation and those that follow is a need for relevance. Just as questions of "When am I ever going to use this?" abound in my classrooms, the question of "How can I use this in my life?" abounds in the heads of youth and young adults when they go to church, whether it's in worship or in small groups. But for whatever reason, the abstract concepts of being "Christlike" are never made all that applicable to the lives of youth and young adults. I sit in sermons where examples, particularly meaningful ones, related only to adults who are middle aged or at least who have children. Occasionally a shallow example gets thrown in for us youth and young adults, usually pertaining to school. Newsflash: youth and young adults are more than just students. Youth and young adults desire something more than that.
We desire to learn in ways that are relevant, authentic, and deep. We want a place where we can grow, explore, and question. We want to belong. We want relevance. We want to connect with God but struggle to do that in the Church - so where are we supposed to go?
Monday, April 30, 2012
Why Would This Time Be Different?
If you've read any of my previous posts, you have a basic understanding that being a person who doesn't fit the mold in my major has been... difficult, to say the least. Despite great efforts to become a part of things, many people simply don't seem to want me around. Ever. Particularly the ones in my area of concentration. I thought I had come to terms with this concept. That I accepted that I had a couple of close friends in my major, and that would be fine. I've proven myself professionally, so why should they matter? I really thought that all of that crap was done and over with.
But there's one tradition that I was still looking forward to. The one time each year that it wasn't supposed to matter how good you were, who your friends were, and how much you fit it. The only requirements are that you are a senior and are significantly connected with the department. A student-led senior celebration. I was invited to join in last year when my entering class held their celebration, but I declined - it didn't feel right participating when I wouldn't graduate until this spring. But this year, I had to find my own way in. Planned through electronic communication, my remote location shouldn't have mattered. But any time I have offered input or help in planning, I have been ignored or pushed aside. And once again I am shut out. The one event that's supposed to be all-inclusive, the one event that I was looking forward to during graduation weekend. And it's become clear to me that I am unwanted, simply dead weight, the tag-along that no one can tolerate. Same old, same old for me. Why would this time be any different?
But there's one tradition that I was still looking forward to. The one time each year that it wasn't supposed to matter how good you were, who your friends were, and how much you fit it. The only requirements are that you are a senior and are significantly connected with the department. A student-led senior celebration. I was invited to join in last year when my entering class held their celebration, but I declined - it didn't feel right participating when I wouldn't graduate until this spring. But this year, I had to find my own way in. Planned through electronic communication, my remote location shouldn't have mattered. But any time I have offered input or help in planning, I have been ignored or pushed aside. And once again I am shut out. The one event that's supposed to be all-inclusive, the one event that I was looking forward to during graduation weekend. And it's become clear to me that I am unwanted, simply dead weight, the tag-along that no one can tolerate. Same old, same old for me. Why would this time be any different?
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Crumbling Under Pressure
I've never been able to handle pressure from other people well. And it took me until recent years to realize that it's because I put so much pressure on myself, I can't take any more from outside sources. I'm a perfectionist. I'm super-self critical. And, overall, I just put more pressure on myself than I need from both myself and the rest of the world combined. So when there's pressure coming at me from all directions, inside and out, I crack under it. I'm more resilient than I used to be, but with everything that's built up over the past month or so, I've cracked. I mean, there have been all sorts of little cracks over the last couple of weeks. But today, I think I crumbled. But when there are such massive amounts of pressure coming from every side, what else am I supposed to do?
About a month ago, I finished my second student teaching experience. At that time, I had completed all my college degree requirements and realized that, while unofficially, I had to in a way enter the real world. This means entering the job search process that I think I've been dreading for most of my college career. I'm not even worried about life once I have a job - it's the finding a job process that is daunting and often unbearable to even think about. Unfortunately, it's also about the only thing I do think about. And that's simply of my own accord. I was overwhelmed on my own. Then the pressure from everyone else came crashing in. I know that they're all well-meaning, and they try to be encouraging and supportive. But every time someone asks me about how the application process is going, I feel more pressure to find a job. And the questions come on at least a daily basis. The thing is, the more people ask about it, the stress of the pressure takes over more of my motivation's territory until all I want to do anymore is crawl into a hole and let the world pass on around me - because that seems to be the only way to escape from all the pressure.
In addition, I think every conversation I have that's not with my family includes the question: "Are you excited to graduate?" or some variant thereof. I put on the fake smile and say that I am, but the truth is that I'm really not. Maybe if I were still sitting through classes or still student teaching, I'd be more excited. But because I have nothing left to complete to receive my degree, I already have a foot in the real world. And I am terrified. Totally and completely terrified. And the more times I put on the act that I just can't wait to be done with school, because that's how I'm expected to act, the more I feel the pressure of the real world closing in. And even the pressure to be normal and be excited to be done with school is getting to me. I mean, I think my reasons are rational, but feeling like an outlier comes with a pressure all its own.
As the pressure of finding my first post-college job isn't enough, there's plenty of other pressure too. This weekend I'm working on a youth retreat with an organization that I was involved with in high school. Being able to be involved in that ministry again was one of my top perks of student teaching near home this semester. I never expected it to be the same way as it was when I was in high school, but I did expect it to be at least kind of like when I was student teaching. I'm technically in the in-between age group, 4 years past being a youth and 2 months shy of being an adult, which still put me somewhere in between high school student and real adult. That I'm used to. And I love working with high schoolers - they're fantastic. Plus I'm on music team, where I feel my biggest strengths lie. I knew it would be rough transitioning back in, but I didn't realize that would be one of the smallest challenges I've faced. First of all, the age vs. appearance thing keeps throwing everyone off and seems like a huge barrier to having conversations with people much less beginning to build relationships with them. The adults think that I'm one of the youth, so they don't even approach me. The youth approach me, but when they find out that I'm significantly older than they are, they fall into shock and all communication breaks down from there. I like working with people because I like to build relationships with them; since not even basic communication has been really working, the experience has been kind of a let-down. Not that it's all about me. But I've never felt so alone on any kind of team, and if I'm alone in the midst of a team, what's my purpose in even being there?
To add to the pressure of finding my fit in the group, I have the pressure of being the kind of leader and having the kind of personality that society expects. Society wants the loud, outgoing, attention-drawing person. I am quiet, shy, observe from the outside before jumping in, and don't feel the need to always be the center of attention. It's been indirectly made very clear to me that who I am and how I lead won't cut it. To be a good-enough leader, I have to be someone different. And on a very basic level, this has hurt me deeply. But I also know that I'm able to step out of my box - I do it all the time as a teacher. But I have the power in a classroom environment. In this retreat environment, I don't, and it's not worth the pain of fighting the power of others to get it for myself. And for a while I was okay with this, until other people started expected me to fight for the power. They have full confidence that I can step up and be the leader expected. And the pressure crashes in again. So there's pressure from the faction who think I'm not good enough and expect me to fix myself. There's pressure from the faction who think I'm good enough and expect me to simply step up. And then there's still that whole faction who still can't seem to figure out how to acknowledge my existence because I don't fit into their perfect age categories. Great.
So going into this weekend, I'm crumbling under the pressure of trying to find a job, which is already more than I can handle right now. It's simply exhausted me. I don't any more energy to go attempt to face the pressure to go be around people who have additional expectations of who I have to be this weekend. All I want to do is fade into the background. All I have the ability to do right now is hang in the background. But thanks to everyone else's pressure, I now am putting tons of pressure on myself to be what everyone expects me to be the first time out. Because the last time I passed into adulthood in a ministry organization, I didn't have the personality that society expected a leader to have, and it screwed me over for the rest of the time I was there. So if I'm not perfect this time, I feel like I can basically kiss any future leadership in the organization goodbye. In addition, I get to look forward to an already exhausted introverted me spending 3 full days surrounded by people with no recharge alone time plus a schedule that allows for nowhere near enough sleep.
And I feel like I have nowhere to turn. Because everyone I talk to jumps into "find a solution mode." I get no understanding, no listening ear, just unsolicited advice. And you know what comes with advice? More pressure. Pressure to do what everyone else wants me to do, be who everyone else needs to be. And then I put more pressure on myself because I know that their advice is right. But to take advice is also to face the pressure that I can't handle anymore. I'm already crumbling under pressure and feel like I'm about to be crushed completely.
What I really need sometimes is someone to stand next to me and say "I've been there. And it sucks." Not sympathy, not encouragement, not advice. Just simple understanding. Because then I wouldn't feel like I'm the only one who's ever crumbled under pressure.
About a month ago, I finished my second student teaching experience. At that time, I had completed all my college degree requirements and realized that, while unofficially, I had to in a way enter the real world. This means entering the job search process that I think I've been dreading for most of my college career. I'm not even worried about life once I have a job - it's the finding a job process that is daunting and often unbearable to even think about. Unfortunately, it's also about the only thing I do think about. And that's simply of my own accord. I was overwhelmed on my own. Then the pressure from everyone else came crashing in. I know that they're all well-meaning, and they try to be encouraging and supportive. But every time someone asks me about how the application process is going, I feel more pressure to find a job. And the questions come on at least a daily basis. The thing is, the more people ask about it, the stress of the pressure takes over more of my motivation's territory until all I want to do anymore is crawl into a hole and let the world pass on around me - because that seems to be the only way to escape from all the pressure.
In addition, I think every conversation I have that's not with my family includes the question: "Are you excited to graduate?" or some variant thereof. I put on the fake smile and say that I am, but the truth is that I'm really not. Maybe if I were still sitting through classes or still student teaching, I'd be more excited. But because I have nothing left to complete to receive my degree, I already have a foot in the real world. And I am terrified. Totally and completely terrified. And the more times I put on the act that I just can't wait to be done with school, because that's how I'm expected to act, the more I feel the pressure of the real world closing in. And even the pressure to be normal and be excited to be done with school is getting to me. I mean, I think my reasons are rational, but feeling like an outlier comes with a pressure all its own.
As the pressure of finding my first post-college job isn't enough, there's plenty of other pressure too. This weekend I'm working on a youth retreat with an organization that I was involved with in high school. Being able to be involved in that ministry again was one of my top perks of student teaching near home this semester. I never expected it to be the same way as it was when I was in high school, but I did expect it to be at least kind of like when I was student teaching. I'm technically in the in-between age group, 4 years past being a youth and 2 months shy of being an adult, which still put me somewhere in between high school student and real adult. That I'm used to. And I love working with high schoolers - they're fantastic. Plus I'm on music team, where I feel my biggest strengths lie. I knew it would be rough transitioning back in, but I didn't realize that would be one of the smallest challenges I've faced. First of all, the age vs. appearance thing keeps throwing everyone off and seems like a huge barrier to having conversations with people much less beginning to build relationships with them. The adults think that I'm one of the youth, so they don't even approach me. The youth approach me, but when they find out that I'm significantly older than they are, they fall into shock and all communication breaks down from there. I like working with people because I like to build relationships with them; since not even basic communication has been really working, the experience has been kind of a let-down. Not that it's all about me. But I've never felt so alone on any kind of team, and if I'm alone in the midst of a team, what's my purpose in even being there?
To add to the pressure of finding my fit in the group, I have the pressure of being the kind of leader and having the kind of personality that society expects. Society wants the loud, outgoing, attention-drawing person. I am quiet, shy, observe from the outside before jumping in, and don't feel the need to always be the center of attention. It's been indirectly made very clear to me that who I am and how I lead won't cut it. To be a good-enough leader, I have to be someone different. And on a very basic level, this has hurt me deeply. But I also know that I'm able to step out of my box - I do it all the time as a teacher. But I have the power in a classroom environment. In this retreat environment, I don't, and it's not worth the pain of fighting the power of others to get it for myself. And for a while I was okay with this, until other people started expected me to fight for the power. They have full confidence that I can step up and be the leader expected. And the pressure crashes in again. So there's pressure from the faction who think I'm not good enough and expect me to fix myself. There's pressure from the faction who think I'm good enough and expect me to simply step up. And then there's still that whole faction who still can't seem to figure out how to acknowledge my existence because I don't fit into their perfect age categories. Great.
So going into this weekend, I'm crumbling under the pressure of trying to find a job, which is already more than I can handle right now. It's simply exhausted me. I don't any more energy to go attempt to face the pressure to go be around people who have additional expectations of who I have to be this weekend. All I want to do is fade into the background. All I have the ability to do right now is hang in the background. But thanks to everyone else's pressure, I now am putting tons of pressure on myself to be what everyone expects me to be the first time out. Because the last time I passed into adulthood in a ministry organization, I didn't have the personality that society expected a leader to have, and it screwed me over for the rest of the time I was there. So if I'm not perfect this time, I feel like I can basically kiss any future leadership in the organization goodbye. In addition, I get to look forward to an already exhausted introverted me spending 3 full days surrounded by people with no recharge alone time plus a schedule that allows for nowhere near enough sleep.
And I feel like I have nowhere to turn. Because everyone I talk to jumps into "find a solution mode." I get no understanding, no listening ear, just unsolicited advice. And you know what comes with advice? More pressure. Pressure to do what everyone else wants me to do, be who everyone else needs to be. And then I put more pressure on myself because I know that their advice is right. But to take advice is also to face the pressure that I can't handle anymore. I'm already crumbling under pressure and feel like I'm about to be crushed completely.
What I really need sometimes is someone to stand next to me and say "I've been there. And it sucks." Not sympathy, not encouragement, not advice. Just simple understanding. Because then I wouldn't feel like I'm the only one who's ever crumbled under pressure.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
An Introvert's Worth
Throughout most of my life one thing has been made clear to me: to be considered valuable, you must be loud, outgoing, and naturally take control of every single group you're ever a part of. You must be a so-called "extrovert" (which is so inaccurately defined by the majority of society). Otherwise you must be an outcast. You will never be a leader (and in our society - if you're not a leader, you must not be worth all that much). You must not be comfortable with yourself. And if you want to be considered of any worth, you must change yourself to be loud, outgoing, and the person who wants to control everything.
I am none of these things. I have a quiet personality. I tend to look before I leap in social situations - observing others before jumping into conversations, activities, etc. and trying to find my fit in a group based on careful observation rather than through trial and error. And I'm willing to take control when no one else wants to or when I alone have been assigned to take control, but when faced with bigger personalities who take control automatically, I don't fight their leadership as I see no point. I'm even a real introvert - worn out easily by spending time with people, especially in large groups. This doesn't mean that I'm anti-social - quite the opposite actually; I continually struggle in my life as a social introvert - I love to be around people, but they wear me out. This doesn't mean that I'm not a leader. This doesn't mean that I'm not comfortable in my own skin - quite the contrary, actually. You see I'm quiet when I lack self-confidence, and I'm quiet when I'm confident; the difference is that when I'm confident, I feel better about who I am. Because most of all - having a quiet personality doesn't mean that I'm not of value and can't be successful just the way I am.
It's taken me the last 5 years to gain this sense of confidence. As a quiet introvert who doesn't constantly battle to be the person in charge, I have often felt like I could never be of worth in society - like I'm not good enough to be a leader, and like I'm not good enough to be a teacher. But during my time learning how to be a teacher, I've had professors, cooperating teachers, and even students validate me for exactly who I am.One cooperating teacher told me that my quiet demeanor was perfect for working with younger children. Another cooperating teacher told me not to pretend that I'm anyone that I'm not because students would see through it and dislike me for, and that while students wouldn't love me for my loudness, they would love me for my kindness and caring. One student who observed my quiet personality initially doubted that I could take control of a rowdy class of 60 - and was impressed when she saw that I had no trouble.
In many of the education classes I've been in, I've been told that different teachers work better with different students - and that's okay. To me, this has said that by because I'm quiet, I can better reach students who may not be reached as well by louder teachers. And my experience even played out that way as another student dreaded the day that I would stop teaching her class because, for her, my quiet and patient personality created an emotionally safer classroom environment than the loud personality of my cooperating teacher. And that's not to say that my cooperating teacher was a bad teacher or a bad person - their teaching personality was not as well suited for this particular student, but, on the other hand, was better-suited for a student who told me that I was a good teacher but wished that I yelled at the class more often.
What I mean to say by all of this is that in my experience as a teacher, I have been accepted and validated for who I am. I have both been told and have experienced for myself that teaching personalities that are loud or quiet or anywhere in between are valuable - that different teaching personalities connect with different students, and that as a teacher with a quiet personality, I am of worth without trying to be anyone that I'm not.
So why isn't it the same in the Church? In a place where we are constantly told that because God made us, we are valuable just they way we are, the rules of society still reign strong. To be a good leader, you must be loud and outgoing. The rest are left to work behind the scenes - they're still valuable, just worthless up in front of and leading people.
The funny thing is, I didn't used to feel this way. Faith communities were for a long time where I felt confident in who I was and in myself as a leader, despite my quieter personality. But in light of recent comments that have been made, I have begun to feel like I was the only one who saw myself as having good leadership qualities, like perhaps the only reason I was ever in leadership as a youth member of different faith communities is because I was involved, I was willing to do the work, and I was willing to volunteer to take on positions.
In addition, as I have grown into adult positions in faith communities, I feel more judged as a quiet personality. In one faith community, I was told that, just like as a teacher, different youth and children need different adult leaders in the Church; but in that same faith community I was passed over for leadership positions given to people with louder personalities. In another faith community, worry was expressed that because of my quiet personality, I would not be successful as a leader. And as I take a moment to observe the leadership in numerous communities of faith of which I am a part, it is the people who are loud, who are outgoing, and who struggle to not automatically take control of a group who are in the leadership positions, particularly in lay-leadership positions. There are few people like me with quiet personalities, and I can even think of quieter people who have been essentially deemed failures in their leadership position because of their quiet personality. And what has this communicated to me: because I have a quiet personality, I cannot be a a good leader in the Church.
Never mind my strong organizational abilities. Never mind the fact that my strongest trait is building relationships with people. Never mind the fact that I have been successful in leadership positions when I have held them. Never mind that I been considered a truly great student teacher in both of my student teaching experiences - and isn't a teacher a leader of sorts?
But here's the thing about me as a leader - I'm only going to step up to the plate when either no one else does or when I'm given the label as being the person in charge. The reason I can take the leadership role in a classroom: because I'm the one in charge - I generally have the final say, and no one is going to question whether or not I am the leader of the group. And I can still take charge of and lead a group with strong personalities, when I have the job title to back me up. And I can be part of a leadership team - so long as all members of the team are willing to lead as equals. And I enjoy leading - this is why I'm willing to take the lead when no one else will.
But in a situation where there's not an assigned leader, I'm not going to fight to claim a leadership role when there's someone with a stronger personality who's already decided in their own mind that they're in charge. Why? Because it's not worth it. Because they're going to fight harder and louder. And even if I were to win, they're more likely to be a less agreeable teammate afterwards. And because I don't feel a need to be the center of attention all the time. I don't mind time in the spotlight - in fact I even enjoy it. But I'm also willing to give it up.
So here's the thing: I can be a successful leader just the way I am. I've even proven myself as a successful leader just the way I am. I'm not loud. And I don't fight tooth and nail to be the informal leader of a group. I am an introverted leader - but I am also a successful leader. And this has been validated in the field of Education. So why isn't it the same in the Church?
I am none of these things. I have a quiet personality. I tend to look before I leap in social situations - observing others before jumping into conversations, activities, etc. and trying to find my fit in a group based on careful observation rather than through trial and error. And I'm willing to take control when no one else wants to or when I alone have been assigned to take control, but when faced with bigger personalities who take control automatically, I don't fight their leadership as I see no point. I'm even a real introvert - worn out easily by spending time with people, especially in large groups. This doesn't mean that I'm anti-social - quite the opposite actually; I continually struggle in my life as a social introvert - I love to be around people, but they wear me out. This doesn't mean that I'm not a leader. This doesn't mean that I'm not comfortable in my own skin - quite the contrary, actually. You see I'm quiet when I lack self-confidence, and I'm quiet when I'm confident; the difference is that when I'm confident, I feel better about who I am. Because most of all - having a quiet personality doesn't mean that I'm not of value and can't be successful just the way I am.
It's taken me the last 5 years to gain this sense of confidence. As a quiet introvert who doesn't constantly battle to be the person in charge, I have often felt like I could never be of worth in society - like I'm not good enough to be a leader, and like I'm not good enough to be a teacher. But during my time learning how to be a teacher, I've had professors, cooperating teachers, and even students validate me for exactly who I am.One cooperating teacher told me that my quiet demeanor was perfect for working with younger children. Another cooperating teacher told me not to pretend that I'm anyone that I'm not because students would see through it and dislike me for, and that while students wouldn't love me for my loudness, they would love me for my kindness and caring. One student who observed my quiet personality initially doubted that I could take control of a rowdy class of 60 - and was impressed when she saw that I had no trouble.
In many of the education classes I've been in, I've been told that different teachers work better with different students - and that's okay. To me, this has said that by because I'm quiet, I can better reach students who may not be reached as well by louder teachers. And my experience even played out that way as another student dreaded the day that I would stop teaching her class because, for her, my quiet and patient personality created an emotionally safer classroom environment than the loud personality of my cooperating teacher. And that's not to say that my cooperating teacher was a bad teacher or a bad person - their teaching personality was not as well suited for this particular student, but, on the other hand, was better-suited for a student who told me that I was a good teacher but wished that I yelled at the class more often.
What I mean to say by all of this is that in my experience as a teacher, I have been accepted and validated for who I am. I have both been told and have experienced for myself that teaching personalities that are loud or quiet or anywhere in between are valuable - that different teaching personalities connect with different students, and that as a teacher with a quiet personality, I am of worth without trying to be anyone that I'm not.
So why isn't it the same in the Church? In a place where we are constantly told that because God made us, we are valuable just they way we are, the rules of society still reign strong. To be a good leader, you must be loud and outgoing. The rest are left to work behind the scenes - they're still valuable, just worthless up in front of and leading people.
The funny thing is, I didn't used to feel this way. Faith communities were for a long time where I felt confident in who I was and in myself as a leader, despite my quieter personality. But in light of recent comments that have been made, I have begun to feel like I was the only one who saw myself as having good leadership qualities, like perhaps the only reason I was ever in leadership as a youth member of different faith communities is because I was involved, I was willing to do the work, and I was willing to volunteer to take on positions.
In addition, as I have grown into adult positions in faith communities, I feel more judged as a quiet personality. In one faith community, I was told that, just like as a teacher, different youth and children need different adult leaders in the Church; but in that same faith community I was passed over for leadership positions given to people with louder personalities. In another faith community, worry was expressed that because of my quiet personality, I would not be successful as a leader. And as I take a moment to observe the leadership in numerous communities of faith of which I am a part, it is the people who are loud, who are outgoing, and who struggle to not automatically take control of a group who are in the leadership positions, particularly in lay-leadership positions. There are few people like me with quiet personalities, and I can even think of quieter people who have been essentially deemed failures in their leadership position because of their quiet personality. And what has this communicated to me: because I have a quiet personality, I cannot be a a good leader in the Church.
Never mind my strong organizational abilities. Never mind the fact that my strongest trait is building relationships with people. Never mind the fact that I have been successful in leadership positions when I have held them. Never mind that I been considered a truly great student teacher in both of my student teaching experiences - and isn't a teacher a leader of sorts?
But here's the thing about me as a leader - I'm only going to step up to the plate when either no one else does or when I'm given the label as being the person in charge. The reason I can take the leadership role in a classroom: because I'm the one in charge - I generally have the final say, and no one is going to question whether or not I am the leader of the group. And I can still take charge of and lead a group with strong personalities, when I have the job title to back me up. And I can be part of a leadership team - so long as all members of the team are willing to lead as equals. And I enjoy leading - this is why I'm willing to take the lead when no one else will.
But in a situation where there's not an assigned leader, I'm not going to fight to claim a leadership role when there's someone with a stronger personality who's already decided in their own mind that they're in charge. Why? Because it's not worth it. Because they're going to fight harder and louder. And even if I were to win, they're more likely to be a less agreeable teammate afterwards. And because I don't feel a need to be the center of attention all the time. I don't mind time in the spotlight - in fact I even enjoy it. But I'm also willing to give it up.
So here's the thing: I can be a successful leader just the way I am. I've even proven myself as a successful leader just the way I am. I'm not loud. And I don't fight tooth and nail to be the informal leader of a group. I am an introverted leader - but I am also a successful leader. And this has been validated in the field of Education. So why isn't it the same in the Church?
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