Everything is Art

I sighed in frustration as I sat at a table, my wooden pencil tapping impatiently
waiting for the 20+ 7th grade students surrounding me to quiet down and refocus...again.
What were they arguing so passionately about...that impulsive boy that can't seem to filter his mouth and the little blonde back and forth with others chipping in...?

the exact wording of the 10 commandments

specifically...the 1st commandment.

If I wasn't so impatient, I probably would have chuckled at them. Because at least they are talking about God. My God. But I, myself sat there pondering...yeah, what is the exact wording? And instead shushed them so I could give them the demonstration on how to draw a tree-house in 2 point perspective.

Or the other day when I was finally able to (blissfully) have a class discussion on "What is Art?"

Students were hopping tables as I had instructed - Speed-Dating discussion questions.

In each 7th grade class, it never failed...by the third question "Is Art defined by its materials? (Can art be made from all kinds of materials?)" I always had a handful of students say, adamantly, "YES! Because we, humans, are art." 

or "Yes! The earth is art!"

or "Everything is art!"

And I could have grabbed the students into a giant hug right there.

And I wanted so badly to shout, "And Who is the Artist?!!" to hear them chant back:

"the I Am!"

How Great Thou Art!

Then there is that boy who sits next to our energetic student with Down Syndrome, who has taken him under his wing and goes out of his way to help him. He looks at me with beautiful sparkling brown eyes and can tell me exactly what that student needs, because he cares that much. And I swear I can see a little of Jesus in him. And it's so ironic, because the definition of this boy's last name means "heavenly" or "godlike."

Or that low-performing girl who never speaks. A month into school, and this week I finally heard her voice for the first time as she asked me a question, shocking me with its deep tones. If I had a word to describe that moment: Chocolate. Her voice was like rich chocolate! haha!

And today, the girl that cried because she couldn't. Or at least she felt like she couldn't. She had raised her hand "Ms. Holcomb, I can't draw!!!" And I worked with her individually to show her steps that she could take to help. But doing so made her even more distressed...because in her eyes nothing was perfect. She started to cry. And the whole "female issue" slammed into my chest...she sat right in front of me...not feeling like anything she did was good enough.  And at the moment, it was specifically her drawing ability. It broke my heart. Because I understood deep in my soul...that feeling. I knew that I could console and encourage her for an hour about how there are no perfect artists and if "art was easy, we wouldn't have a class" and you don't have to draw it exactly like the picture, you're not a robot, you're human...but would it help? What she needed was a giant hug...you are loved...you are loved...you are loved. But I couldn't save her. And the bell rang for the next class.

My good friend Heidi came to visit me one night.

And I finally have a good gal pal I chat with most days.

And my mentor has assured me I'm not doing a terrible job.

I'm trying to do a better job of thanking parents for having great kids

and giving TigerBucks out when the students do well.

Because I like them. I do.

I. Like. Middle. School. Students.

!!!

I guess I came into this job not knowing if I would...but thinking I might...and I do. I know now for sure. They're funny. They're squirrely, yes. And sometimes I loose control of the whole class into hysterics when I accidentally muttered the word "puberty" as a joke when my voice cracked while trying to yell over them (then spent the next two minutes shaking my head and explaining that the world really isn't that funny...everyone goes through it...it's a natural part of life. Teachable moment).

Whoa Buddy! And man do they have energy! But they can always make me laugh.

Yesterday I went to a Mentoring Course and we read an article about the life of a first year teacher.

And I felt so empowered because I finally felt like I wasn't crazy...someone else understands!

Understands this "survival mode" and "scatterbrained crazy" that has been my life.

I always knew this year would be hard.

I heard it said many times that the first year is rough.

And I expected it...but maybe not this much.

Did not expect packing my car up to go back to school after a "weekend" at home (where all I did was just do more school work) with tears running down and slumping over to mom..."I am NOT alright!"

"I never have enough time! I have no energy! I'm plugging through...but don't ever feel like it's enough. I never feel organized well enough to be confident in my own abilities. I don't have a social life and HECK...there's no way I could have a boyfriend, if that was even on my radar right now, cause I wouldn't have time for him!!! This is consuming my life...I'd appreciate a little boring right now!"

and I just need a hug. You are loved, Ms. Holcomb. You are loved, Amy. You are loved.

And again, this morning I woke up and didn't want to go.

Sleep. I need more sleep.

So yes, there are good moments. But most times right now...it's just hard. 

And I've felt myself buying into the lie...against what I was most passionate about...that art isn't as important. Those students that don't really care because they don't feel this is relevant to them...yeah, they have a point. And I've doubted myself so many times. 

Only to realize later that that was my drive...and it was drained. 

And that lion prowls, stealing my joy.

So I must write...the good things. The blessings. 

Because if that man I love would take a nail through His flesh...

HOW WILL HE NOT ALSO....??