Archives for September 2016

I am in that frame of life where a lot of my friends are having children. Blessed to have married early, I now have a nine and seven-year-old where others my age are just entering the baby stages. Whenever those friends ask me what surprises me most about being a parent, I say that I am surprised at how strict I am, because it really isn’t my personality. If you’ve known me more than a day or two, I’m sure we have shared jokes, laughs, and even, perhaps, a bit of playful banter … so “strict” isn’t something I self-identify with. That being said, my expectations for my children’s work ethic and behavior are pretty up there. After ruminating as to why, it took all of ten seconds to figure out where this learned character trait came from – teaching.

The thing is, there is a very thin line between feeling intrinsically motivated to do your best in a supportive atmosphere, and feeling pushed to achieve as a means of proving your worth. This is something I think we all have struggled with in one phase of life or another, but more and more expectations are being thrust upon our young people to achieve in every facet of life. The danger is, we need to recognize how our children are motivated by expectations. Athlete Kristin Armstrong spoke to this idea when she said, “Some people can shrug expectations off their shoulders like a cardigan, remaining cool and breezy. Others wear them like a parka with a stuck zipper, hot and stifling.” It is a constant battle that the enemy places in our hallways … and one needs only to pass by any conversation to hear comparisons being made. More than ever I feel it is vital to gauge the self-esteem of our young people to be certain they remain confident of who they are in Christ alone. We as educators know the commitment involved with high expectations. The world pushes us to simply, “Accept people for what they are,” whereas education demands that we grow students from where they are. With pressures abounding, I’ve been so blessed to witness the elementary teachers at this school, because they do not simply set high expectations, more importantly, they set their classrooms on the foundation of love.

Romans 12:9 tells us that, “Love must be sincere,” and I can think of no more sincere form of love than when I see these teachers set forth expectations where their students feel both confident and able to achieve great things. The patience, guidance, and dedicated love with which these students are surrounded is quite a cultural shift from the world where your value is only measured by what you achieve. Rest and know that each and every one of your children at Westlake are held to high standards based in love, growth, and the goodness of who Christ is raising them up to be.

Ever since I was a child, I absolutely HATED the monkey bars. True, it might have been
(and still be) my incredible lack of upper arm strength, but it was also: the blisters my hands
immediately formed, the way I would “lose steam” half-way through the mission and dangle like a stranded fish on a line, and finally, the dreaded drop I inevitably made to the impaling wood chips below. Yes, I do not have fond memories at all of that piece of equipment, and yet, it remains as popular as it has ever been, unassailably assigned to every playground from sea to
shining sea.

When my kids began attempting to cross them, it was a whole new batch of fear to
wrestle. Now I wasn’t only worried about my own scars, but the new, inevitable“owies” that might form. I’ll never forget my first phone call from the school office, “Your daughter fell from the monkey bars and hit her head.” And then my second of the same offense a week later, “Your daughter fell from the monkey bars and hurt her back.” We had a serious talk both times about how there’s no shame in avoiding them altogether, but kids will perform according to their own will, and hers was strong. She has since conquered what I never could, crossing from side to side with ease … but I know sleeping giants don’t sleep forever, and this week those monkey bars reared their ugly metal once more.

I just so happened to be passing the office earlier this week and saw a white-faced, bloody-chin-bearing, brave boy, sitting on the bench. “What happened?” I asked, unable to look away from the little bruiser.

“Monkey bars,” Patrick said with a wince.

“Say no more,” I thought glumly. The beast claims another victim.

Every mother dreads that phone call, the one I’d already had two of, but not every mother hears the report that her son literally bit through his bottom lip, and is now awaiting stitches. But here’s where the story gets good. Even though the accident was awful, and even though I’m certain poor Patrick was in great pain, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a bevy of immediate stand-in mothers and fathers as I did that day in the office. From recess supervisors to office administrators and passerby teachers, our little patient might arguably have had more attentive devotion than he’d ever have received before. The most steadfast of these instant caretakers was Ms. Lori Blair herself. There wasn’t a moment to pass that she was not kneeling in front of, or sitting beside Patrick, wiping him up, cooling his new forming bruises, and speaking lovingly with encouragement and confidence.

American author Edwin Louis Cole once said, “God never ends anything on a negative; God always ends on a positive.” And while we all know that no one wants to be hurt at school, away from the support of family, I must say that courageous as he was, Patrick was loved on and prayed over in divinely-inspired ways that day, right here in the Westlake school office. I’m
going to try to remember his story, and I hope you will too, the next time we get a call about those tricky-icky monkey bars.

“You don’t really know someone until you’ve had recess with them.” Alex Z., Age 8

Some years ago, on Disney channel, there was a show called “Recess.” It was a funny parody on the relationships and status of students during the most unstructured time of the day. The most humorous part about it is . . . they were spot on! There are the kings and queens of recess. There are leaders and those that pledge allegiance to them. There are groups, and cliques, and games, and battles. In short, recess has not changed since you and I were there.

Most days when I am the recess supervisor, I am an observer – an anthropological fly on the wall, but today things were a bit different, and I had to get involved. There was just a general air of frustration. Phrases like, “That’s not the rules,” or “You’re cheating,” ran rampant as tears, and shoves, and misunderstandings multiplied.The recess teacher and I met with her Teaching Assistant, Christian, and decided something needed to be said. Christian, being the strong young man of God that he is, took the reigns on the conversation. Immediately, this young man gathered the kids to lines, and asked, “What does it mean to be Christ-like.” Answers sprouted out immediately, and right there on the spot, was a theological mini-lesson about not just fair-play for fair-play’s sake, but fair-play to imitate the love and attitude of Christ.

I guarantee, this was not the same “talking to” you or I saw on the playground, and I know Disney never aired a comedic sitcom (well intentioned as they may be) about the love of Christ rooting us back to our ground rules. It is a beautiful, sunny, outdoor day . . . and I can almost assure you that life is a bit sweeter from the sideline sermon of a teenager.