Wednesday, October 21, 2015

The Easiest Roasted Broccoli

When I was a kid, there was only one way I'd eat broccoli; microwave steamed and swimming in cheese. While I fortunately grew to enjoy the more nutritious choice of cheese-less vegetables, I still could not bring myself to eat raw broccoli. I have a real texture problem; from overly thick yogurt to lumpy mashed potatoes. Even the tags in the back of my shirts can bother me. To me, broccoli had never been cold and crunchy, and in my mind, it shouldn't be.

But once my mom found out that steaming broccoli steamed most of the nutrients right out, we went on a search to perfect a way to roast it. We not only did it, but found a method that works on cauliflower too! We fix it the same way, and neither of us had even cared for cauliflower in the past.

What you'll need:
--4 small stalks of broccoli (or two larger ones)
--3 tbsp olive oil
--1 tsp steak seasoning
--1/4 tsp garlic

Step one:
Cut the broccoli from the stalks.
Step two:
Pour 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a small mixing bowl.
Step three:
Season to taste. I use about 1 teaspoon of steak seasoning and about 1/4 teaspoon of garlic. Feel free to experiment with your own mixture!

Step four: 
Stir broccoli into seasonings. 

Step five: 
Prepare for baking. I usually lay the broccoli out on a cookie sheet with aluminum foil to reduce cleanup, but for this particular dinner I already had several things in the oven baking. Bake in oven for about 20 minutes at 400 degrees. 
Step six: 
Check: your broccoli should be tender and should have traces of brown around some edges from the seasoning. Remove and enjoy! 

Friday, October 16, 2015

A Teacher's Motivation

For my graduating class, it's nearing the end of our undergraduate education. We're more than halfway done, almost through the first five semesters, and it's nearing the point where people are getting bored with their major. Some are failing out. And we ask these people, "So what do you plan on doing now?" to which we receive the disturbing response, "Oh I don't know. Probably just teach."

As an Early Childhood Education major, I don't meet many guys. If I'm being completely honest, I often only meet one type of girl: an overly-hairsprayed, heavily makeup-ed, yoga-panted sorority girl who "just loves kids!" Not that there's anything wrong with sorority girls; I know plenty whom I love and adore. But when asked why we want to be a teacher, "I was failing organic chemistry," and "I love kids!" is not good enough. Personally, I love to dance, but that certainly doesn't qualify me to be a professional choreographer. I love clothes and fashion, but I am not called to be a fashion designer. Instead, I sit back and appreciate the work done by choreographers by learning their dances, and enjoy the work of fashion designers by wearing their clothes. The same is true with teaching. Just because you have a passion for children, or even for education, does not mean you must (or even should) be a teacher.

I am greatly troubled by the comments most of these ladies dish out.

"I can't wait to have every summer off for the rest of my life!"

"Oh, this job will give me great benefits. I wouldn't have these benefits in other professions!"

"I love teaching because I get to hang out with kids all day!" 

As the daughter of a teacher, I have a newsflash for these women. Our summers will be filled with lesson planning, classroom organization, faculty meetings, professional development opportunities, and preparation for the upcoming school-year. We will get the same benefits as every other state employee, and would receive better benefits if we obtained a career on the federal level. And we do not, in fact, get to "hang out" with kids all day. We have a very important job to educate them. It is our job to ensure that they learn what is expected of them in a timely and effective manner. Their progress is on our shoulders, so God forbid you decide to teach because you got a degree in something else and your career never quite took off. "Oh well, if it doesn't work out I can always teach," is not (and never should be) an acceptable reason to become a teacher. Educators arguably have the most important job in the world. We train the future doctors, engineers, and business owners. Our career is no back-up plan.

When asked the ever-present question "Why do you want to be a teacher?" I am prepared with an answer. To make a difference and to leave my mark on the world are too cliché, too common, and far too vague. The truth about me is that I struggled quite a lot in school. But let's be clear on one thing: in early elementary, I loved it. I looked forward to going to school every day; talking with teachers, doing projects with friends, and of course, playing outside for recess. I was a great student, and helped out the teacher when and where I could. I was the name left for substitutes; the name that was never written on the board for misconduct. Once, I even tutored my classmates while my teacher led a reading lesson because my scantron was graded wrong on the Benchmark test. I didn't need remedial math, and ended up teaching it to my own peers!

I wish I could say that spark of learning would last forever, but, like all children, I grew up. Very few students maintain their eagerness and enthusiasm to learn as they move into higher grades. There are fewer activities, too many lectures, harder content, and far too many ridiculous rules. I even had a teacher that wouldn't let us turn in a research paper we'd worked a month on if we hadn't stapled it by the time we walked through the door!

By the time I reached sixth grade, I had my first true struggle in school: timed multiplication tests. We had a sheet full of multiplication tables with only a minute to fill it out. My teacher had a rule she considered to be motivational. "We will do these every Friday. But... Once you pass it, you don't have to take it anymore!"

Easy enough, right? Wrong. From the moment the timer clicked on, I was in panic. My face would grow hot and I would begin to sweat. My lungs did not function normally, and I had to remind myself to breathe. My hands would shake and I would always be at least two rows from the bottom by the time the alarm went off. "Time!" my teacher would call, and I would sit back in my chair defeated. It wasn't that I didn't know my multiplication tables. I'd known them for years and tutored my own classmates on them! But I could not, for the life of me, write them all down on a timed test.

As promised, we did those tests every Friday, and once people passed, they didn't have to take them anymore. About two months into the semester, everyone had passed...except, of course, me and about three other people. The four of us took those tests for several weeks with everyone watching. We never passed, and eventually, my teacher made us stop doing them. I guess she just gave up.

Little did I know, the physical and emotional swing I had when a timer was set is recognized in the psychological world as test anxiety, and it would not end with multiplication tables. Any time I was presented with a test that we were only given a certain amount of time on, my flushed face and hyperventilation would strike again. This follows me even today.

Suddenly, it was time for high school, and "a talented mind like mine should be in the AP program!" Or so they said. I even knew a school counselor who told his students that they could take regular classes if they wanted to "flip burgers for the rest of their life," but "anybody who wanted to be somebody would enroll in the AP program." I was never really one to believe that, but I had a different motivation. My strong suit was English, and I wanted to take an AP English class. However, the AP English class was linked with an AP History class, which I wanted nothing to do with. I'd never been fond of history because it had never been presented as anything overly enjoyable, so I really didn't want to torture myself with that. But everyone said, "You're smart! You'll be fine!" So I took that blocked class of AP English and AP U.S. History, and to this day, I consider it one of the worst decisions of my life.

As expected, the AP English portion was fine. I wrote good essays and participated in class discussions over books, poems, and short stories. But when presented with the history information, I seemed to be a lost cause.

My teacher was pretty much a witch (for a censored title), claiming that she would be willing to help anyone with questions, but she never seemed to have all that much help to give. She would grade our notes and get angry if they weren't the way she wanted. My mind clearly worked differently than hers from the very beginning and my notes were never the way she wanted them to be, so she gave me an F on all my pages. So naturally, I began attempting the notes like she wanted them. No surprise, I got an A on the notes and failed the quizzes because I couldn't follow my notes. She would put you on the spot to answer questions, and if you gave an answer that stimulated discussion but wasn't the answer she wanted, you wouldn't get credit for the discussion. She would go around the room and quiz us orally in front of the rest of the class, which gave everyone anxiety, not just me.

The biggest problem I had, however, was (as established previously...) testing. I told her at the beginning of the year that timed tests scared me, and if she would just allow me to stay after the bell for a few minutes, that I would be fine. I told her I would probably always finish before the bell if I didn't feel I was under any pressure, but she would not have it.

"The AP test at the end of the year is timed Bethany," she told me, "I do what I do for a reason."

Then I asked the unthinkable. "Well, do I have to take that test?"

She stared at me with a cold expression for a long time before taking a breath, and laughed, "Well it would be stupid not to. The school pays for it and it will give you college credit for the class."

So I busted my butt. I studied hours each day for every test and always scored about two points under her passing mark. I was in there for weeks taking makeup tests until I passed one. I never passed any of them.

So one day at lunch, out of complete desperation and stupidity, I approached her for help. She had the audacity to ask me, "Are you really studying?" and I wanted to punch her in the face, but I swallowed my pride and said, "Yes." I continued to tell her all the ways I'd studied: re-reading each chapter, reviewing my notes, taking practice tests, writing songs, creating alliterations, and even acting out scenarios with stuffed animals in my room to remember the order of events in wars and scandals. By the time I got all this out, she was clearly stunned with my creativity and work ethic, but certainly would not show any sign of being impressed with a girl who could not even pass her class. Instead, she said, "Oh. Well. You're still young and your brain isn't fully developed at age sixteen. Maybe you just aren't to a point where you can answer this level of a question."

I was stunned. Now I had test anxiety and an underdeveloped brain? I just snatched my test back and said, "Yeah, maybe that's it," and walked out.

Looking back, I remember paying a fee for that AP test at the end of the year, so the school did not, in fact, pay for it. And you only got credit for the class if you passed the test, which, to no surprise, I did not. It was all for nothing. To this day, my teacher still smiles and speaks to one member of my class (a National Merit scholar who scored a 5 on the AP test) and doesn't give me a second glance. As if I ever got a first one.

I often wondered why she decided to become a teacher. I couldn't possibly think of a worse career for her to choose. Then, I discovered an article about her in the school newspaper. When asked, "Before you decided to become a teacher, what did you want to be?" she answered, "A child psychologist." It was that day I learned that things could always be worse. At least when she wounded me I was a teenager with a decently strong sense of self confidence. I hesitate to consider what she might have done to a poor child.

I vowed to never take another AP history class again. I finished the next year with an A+ in both AP English and regular World History. My world history teacher is one of my favorite teachers to this day, and I have no regrets at all about that class. Senior year, however, I found myself in both AP Literature and AP Government. I'm still not sure how I was convinced, but the AP Gov teacher was supposed to be very good, so I never argued.

The teacher was a fat, old, retired lawyer. He signed every letter the "Old Bald Fat Guy." I loved that class. It was engaging and I actually participated in discussions even though I was often clueless. Even when I said something completely wrong, he would take the time to ask questions that steered me the right direction until I got it right. He was shocked when I failed the first test. I, at this point, was not.

I had given up on myself. I was prepared to cry through my studying and fail all my tests, as I had done in AP U.S. History. But he was genuinely concerned. He called me in for a meeting one day during lunch and said, "Bethany... I was very shocked to see this."

He handed me my first graded test with a big fat F on the top. I just looked up at him. Why? I thought to myself, I'm stupid. Don't you know that? 

"You're a very hard worker and a good student," he said instead. I was shocked. "What can I do to help you?"

I started crying on the spot. To know that an AP teacher (that wasn't my English teacher) believed in me and had faith in me was more than I could handle. I hadn't expected it at all. The rough old lawyer brought me some tissues and waited. I never had to tell my story. He knew there was one there. People like me don't just wake up one day and decide they're stupid. Something had to have convinced me otherwise.

I got to stay after the bell on test days if I wasn't finished, but I always was. The pressure of the time limit was lifted, so I was able to organize my thoughts in a timely manner without panic. Still, government was not a high subject for me, so he tutored me once a week during lunch. He even gave me a blank notecard to use on tests to cover up parts of the question (to identify what it was really asking) and to cover the answers until I'd formed my own in my head.

I didn't get any A+'s or anything; he's a teacher, not Jesus. But I did pass every test. Even the AP test at the end of the year, and didn't have to take Government in college. It, in contrast to my decision to take AP U.S. History, was one of the smartest decisions I've ever made. I use his test taking strategies even now, and credit him with my success. That Old Bald Fat Guy turned out to be one of my biggest heroes.

So what was the difference between these two teachers? Their motivation. Their attitude towards their job was different. The first teacher thought she ruled the world. The second teacher recognized that he was teaching the generation who would one day rule the world, and thought they should be educated accordingly. The first teacher had incredibly selfish motivation (I later learned that the school gets paid more for every passing score on the AP exam, which was the reason she pushed her students so hard to obtain one), but the second teacher was genuinely concerned for his students. As far as he was concerned, they deserved the credit.

Both educators are my motivation to become a teacher. I strive to be a teacher just like the Old Bald Fat Guy, and strive to show students that teachers do not have to be like my AP U.S. History teacher.

Kids have to go to school. They are forced to attend. But teachers are responsible for their attitude towards learning. Teachers have control over whether they love or hate coming to class. I sincerely hope no one else has ever had a teacher suggest their brain was underdeveloped, but everyone has had at least one experience to prove that the teacher is what makes the difference between a wonderful and miserable school year.

It is naïve of us to state that education is 100% about the kids. Teachers also work to make a living and support their own families, not to mention the laws and limitations that prevent them from meeting individual students' needs. But a teacher's motivation should not be themselves. Our salary is not big enough, our benefits are not good enough, and we work more for free than any other occupation with our lesson plans, grading papers, testing, and professional development. We are paid as teachers, not as mothers, advisors, therapists, or referees, when the truth is: we do it all.

We've heard it before: We are not in this for the income, we're in it for the outcome.

Because the kids deserve it. They are worthy of a good, intriguing education. They should be excited to learn. They deserve to have a chance at enjoyable learning and we owe it to them.

If your heart is not in education, you should choose something else. I promise, no one will be offended. Students, teachers, parents, and administrators are all counting on you to be the absolute best you can be for your students, and you can't afford to let them down. You don't get the choice to fail. It's not an option. After all, this never really should've been about you anyway.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

When You Realize You've Grown Up To Be Your Favorite Disney Princess

In honor of the Aladdin Diamond Edition being released on Blu-Ray today, I went all out. I wore my Aladdin sweatshirt, I've posted the Aladdin cast reunion photos and articles all day on social media, and I've tracked the package on the hour (because of course I got free release date shipping... Thank you Amazon Student!). It's clear to everyone: my obsession with this movie is a little scary. But how could it not be?

My parents met in high school, went their separate ways in college, and then married. Other people, I might add. After two failed marriages, they were reunited in their hometown. They burned gas traveling to see each other and met for a date in Tulsa twenty-two years ago. This date entailed lunch, and a brief discussion about what would happen "if" they got married. By the time the discussion was over, they weren't quite ready to part, so they asked, "What movies are on at the theater?" and answered, "Well despite that it's a Disney movie... I hear that Aladdin is pretty good!"

They laughed the whole time. My mom's headstrong beliefs and fiery attitude made her adore Jasmine, a princess who was completely willing to shoot down those who tried to dictate her life, and my dad's love of comedy made the Genie undeniable. (Dad always said he missed his calling to be a comedian but I'm glad he's a music teacher. That way we still had food on the table every night!) So Aladdin was a hit for my parents before I was even a thought. Ha! "What if they got married?" 

In my mother's words, "It really has been a whole new world ever since." When I was born, Aladdin was the in vault already, but they borrowed a copy from my aunt and that was the beginning of the end. I watched it all the time. I loved it! I went trick-or-treating as Jasmine for several Halloweens. Every game that was played with my friends in the backyard: I was Jasmine. No one else got to be her, and everyone knew it. But tragedy struck one night while I was watching my beloved Disney classic: the VHS tape broke! It had been over-watched, over-rewinded, and over-used. How do you explain a technology failure to a little girl with a preconceived crush on Aladdin? Well... You don't. You pull out your street rat skills and improvise, so that's what my parents did.

I went a few weeks without my favorite tale, but I had Aladdin books, costumes, etc. to preoccupy my time. In those weeks, my parents watched ABC Family like a hawk, and had our new fancy VCR player (the one that could record things off the TV!) ready to go. The night the movie premiered on ABC, not only did my family sit down and watch it together again, but we recorded it on every TV in the house. The moment it came out of the vault again, we bought up more copies. We were not reliving that deprived stage again, the one where little Bethany would ask every day, "Can we watch Aladdin?" to which the reply was always inevitably, "No... Remember Bethany? It broke."

Oh yeah... 

As a result of this little scare, I am now twenty and own three Aladdin VHS tapes (excluding the broken one), the Special Edition when it came out on DVD, and now the Blu-Ray Diamond Edition the moment it was released. Again, a special shoutout to Amazon Student for offering free release-date shipping! Clearly, they know how to make their Disney girls happy.

So you're probably thinking, "Okay, it was something her parents did before she was born, and it was a staple of her childhood. What's the big deal?" Well the truth is, it was always so much more than that. I loved Aladdin because he was the type of man I wanted for myself: smart, clever, passionate, a little goofy, and come on, he's pretty attractive. The Genie was a favorite because he reminded me of my own childhood, when my dad would impersonate everyone including characters from movies, famous musicians, and even other friends and coworkers in our lives. (If you haven't heard his Elvis impression, I really do recommend it. He's got a pretty mean Eddie Murphy, too.)

But Jasmine? That smart, strong, independent, strikingly beautiful princess was exactly who I wanted to be, though I didn't know I wanted to be her when I was three. I just knew she was pretty cool, far more fun and outgoing than other Disney princesses.

When I first saw the musical on Broadway, I understood. In my beloved city of New York, I realized that I not only liked Princess Jasmine, I related to her. I was her. She was a sheltered princess who had lived in one place all her life, and dreamed of a life of adventure. Like me. She was tired of routine. Like me. She desired deep friendships, complex relationships, and new experiences to give her life meaning. Like me. (Catching a trend?) Being a princess wasn't good enough for her. She wanted every day to fulfill a new purpose. She wanted to learn the way others lived and decide the life she wanted for herself, rather than live a life that someone else told her to live. And isn't that what every twenty-year-old young woman ultimately wants?

She was smart. She was beautiful, too, but she already knew that. She wanted to be recognized for more than her looks and treasures, and when she met Aladdin, he saw her for everything she wanted to be seen for. He did not know she was a princess and was instead captivated by her quick adaptability despite her naivety. He shared his dreams with her because she was interested in listening, not because she could make them come true (even though she could).

Jasmine was a firecracker. Raised by my mother, I learned quickly not to rely on a man. They were nice to have around, but you never knew what might happen. You did not need them to survive, and boy, Jasmine didn't either. She despised men who thought they were too cool and had no problem calling them out on it. Even Aladdin, when she openly called him a "stuffed shirt, swaggering peacock." That's an awesome scene. But we can't forget my favorite line of all:

"How dare you! All of you! Standing around deciding my future? I am not a prize to be won!" 

Don't pretend like you didn't read that in her voice.

Women often feel like that. I often feel like that. My future is mine to write, but everyone else loves to tell you what you should and shouldn't do. The truth is, they don't know. No one knows what you should do better than you. No one has your personal intuition. So many adults follow the wishes of their parents, significant others, or friends, whether it be because they do not know what they want for themselves or they are too weak to fight for it. But Jasmine doesn't follow anyone's rules. She writes her own.

So all this makes me sound like a total Disney dreamer, doesn't it? Probably. And I have no shame. But if there's one argument for Disney's Aladdin you should actually pay attention to, let it be this one:

Jasmine is awfully independent for being raised in a society where she is expected to mind the rules and obey the laws. She is not like your typical princess in a typical fairytale; she does not wait in her tower for her prince to come save her. She wanted to sneak out of the palace and experience the outside world, so she just did it. She didn't whine about it or sulk any longer; she took action. She achieved her dreams on her own, and happened to meet Aladdin along the way. But Aladdin's dreams of becoming rich and living a life of luxury could not be achieved without her.

So I'd like to dedicate this little number to those who believe that Disney only teaches young girls that women should be passive, submissive women who wait on a prince to come save them. Jasmine didn't need Aladdin to make her dreams possible. He needed her to make his dreams possible. And that's what every girl wants more than anything: to be the motivation, the fire, the spark, and the passion in their man's life. Perhaps that's what I like most about Jasmine. She didn't need, she was needed. 

I admire movies like Beauty and the Beast for attempting to show that beauty is found within. But Jasmine not only shows that beauty is found within when she falls in love with her diamond in the rough, Aladdin, but she shows little girls that intelligence and fiery passion is what makes a woman astoundingly beautiful. It's good to be smart. It's good to be independent. It's a good thing to know what you want in life, and to work hard until you get it. It's good to protect your heart, but it's also good to let your guard down enough to love. And in that respect, Jasmine does everything right.

Regarding her dreams, I relate to her. Regarding her personality, I am her. And regarding her happy ending, I strive to become her. No, I'm not so naive to think that a girl can find one man instantly and live happily ever after, never experiencing another trial or obstacle for as long as they live. But I hope that the dreams I have for myself will come true, and I pray that I have the determination and work ethic to achieve them. I don't just love the movie Aladdin because I'm a Disney freak, I love it because every Disney girl wakes up one day to realize they've grown up to be their favorite Disney princess. For me, I guess that day was today. And to celebrate? Here's what the rest of my night looks like!

I'm sure no one's really surprised.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Make-It Monday: DIY Chiefs Shirt

Our apartment is somewhat divided when it comes to football: Shannon's in love with the Chiefs, Jocelyn worships the Packers, and Cassie and I could honestly care less. But despite Jocelyn's undying love for Clay Mathews, she is willing to give up her Packer Pride to attend any pro-game. Fortunately for them, Shannon's family scored tickets to the Chiefs game this past Saturday, but Jocelyn's closet is strictly green and yellow: not a red shirt to be found.

So once again the apartment turned to Pinterest, combining several ideas to make a shirt simple enough for Jocelyn to complete, but complex enough to not look totally stupid. And I think she did a pretty good job!

Here's What You'll Need:
--Red T-shirt
--Yellow Paint
--White Paint
--Notebook Paper

Step 1: 
Sketch half a heart outline on one sheet of notebook paper. (If you're a fancier crafter than we are you can use card stock, cardboard, or scrapbook tracers for your template. We're pretty cheap around here!) Sketch the other half on a normal piece of paper. Use the lines on the paper to write a "K" and a "C" in block letters inside the heart. You can also cut out letters from a Microsoft Word document or Google Images if you don't trust your free hand. (Feel free to adjust your template to say Go Chiefs, Kansas City, or something that matches your team!)

Step 2: 

Tape the two halves of the heart together. Penetrate the paper inside the letters with scissors and carefully cut out the letters from inside the heart.

Step 3:
Trace your template with paint. Trace your letters with a smaller paintbrush in white, and the heart with a fatter paintbrush in yellow.

Step 4: 

Remove your template and begin to paint in the lines. The more coats of paint you give the shirt, the darker and more professional it will look.

Once finished, it should look similar to this! 

Despite the fact that the Chiefs gave the game away on Saturday, these girls still had a wonderful time! And if nothing else, now Jocelyn has a football shirt that isn't green! 

Thank you, Jocelyn Mckenzie, for this wonderful idea! Want your crafts featured on Taxis, Tots, and Polka Dots? Email me your ideas at 

Sunday, October 11, 2015

The Generation Gap: Those Who Won't Work and Those Who Won't Quit

Do you recognize this man?

You probably do if you live in Fayetteville, Arkansas and often shop at the Wal-Mart on Joyce Street. This overly friendly, kid-loving, jokester is my Granddad, and he's turning 87 in two months. Born in 1929, Mr. Hubert "John" Day had the furthest thing from an easy life. A terrible home life and low job security pushed him to lie about his age and join the army. He fought in two wars, and yet, recalls it as being "the time of his life" because, and I quote, "I didn't have to worry about meals or clothes or what to do next. You were given an order, you did it, and everything else was provided for you."

He's worked ever since, and never very long at the same place. If he was laid off, he got a second job. If the business was closing, he was looking for his next job before he was even out of one. He didn't always have a "career" like you hear about today (though he did get a degree and work as an accountant for a period of time), but he was always either at his job or looking for one.

You don't hear of many people like this today.

Well, friends, after 10 years of pushing him to retire, my mother and I finally broke him last January. He retired from Wal-Mart and found all sorts of new projects. But now that it's October, all the yard work he could possibly do is done, all the books he wanted to read are read, and all his projects are completed. He liked the idea of taking history and political classes just for fun (now that they are free since he's over 65), but he didn't like the idea of going down to campus to take them (and he can't take them online because he doesn't believe in the internet). He walked every day at the mall and met friends for lunch and coffee, but that's not enough for him anymore. He got bored. So what does he do? Marches down to Wal-Mart and asks his old supervisor if she would hire him back. Her answer? After a chuckle and a shake of her head, "Why certainly, Mr. Hubert!"

So he's back at work. He didn't even last a year.

Now I don't know about you, but once I've retired, I'm done. I already have things I want to do. I want to learn to draw. I want to read my heart out. I want to craft and decorate my house and take classes in writing, in fashion, in everything I've always wanted to try but was afraid to pursue with the fear that I wouldn't be talented enough to support myself. I want to travel. I want to see every play that comes to my local theatre. I want to keep up with Broadway more than I do now, because I would have the time to do so. I've already got my retirement planned, and I'm not even out of college with my degree to work!

But that's the difference among his generation and mine: while we might have the same work ethic, our priorities are totally different.

He belongs to the "Traditional Generation", the "Veteran Generation" for lack of a better title. These members were born between 1925-1945, and pride themselves on being loyal to their organization, responding to direct leadership, and respecting authority. In my granddad's words, "You are given an order, and you do it." They always showed up early for their shift, dressed in formal attire for work (my granddad wears collared shirts and slacks to greet at Wal-Mart), they worked mostly in an office or factory setting, and are motivated by their self-pride. They don't just work to make money or to make a difference, they work hard so their employers will speak highly of them. They choose to represent their company the absolute best they can with everything they do. And with regards to technology, they don't even see the point. Not only do they prefer personal contact, but they email only if they have to, still do their research in an actual library with actual books, and hardly use the phone at all. This hard working, conservative, anti-risk generation is quite possibly the most stubborn and dedicated of all, as we see in my 87 year old Granddad who tried retirement and decided it didn't suit him.

I, on the other hand, belong to "Generation Y," often known as the "Millennial" generation due to our range of births: 1981-2000. I was born in 1995, not far from the turn of the century. We grew up in an age of diversity, with tech-savvy, enthusiastic teachers, raised by optimistic parents who often told us, "You can do anything you set your mind to." Young workers my age pride themselves on confidence, sociability, diversity, spirit, multi-tasking, and passion. We possess a level of "street smarts" in education and technology that the traditional generation never imagined the world would need. We like flexibility in our work: in tasks, in hours, and in pay. We are always looking for weird, extra jobs to make money that we can complete on our own time like blogging, selling old clothes, sewing, etc. The other day our apartment complex ran a special: if you renewed your lease for the next year on a certain day, they gave you a $300 check! Needless to say, we are living here again next year.

I love taking online classes because I can complete them on my own time. I don't have to actually show up at a classroom at a designated time. I love babysitting and writing and sewing for extra money because I can accept the jobs when I need the money and decline them when I don't have the time. And people in our generation don't see that as being unreliable. I've never once had a mother not call me to babysit again because I turned down a night due to previously made plans. They also agree that grades, studying, athletic practices, and previously made commitments are just as important as work, a line of thinking that would've never been accepted in the traditional generation.

We also wear whatever we want. My mom is a member of the Baby Boomer generation, and she wore slacks and nice shirts to high school. If anyone did that when I was in high school, they would've been the laughing stock of their class. In my high school, you were lucky if you even saw someone in a cute shirt and jeans. Most of the time, people wore sweatpants and hoodies.

Some of us might work in an office, or in my case, a classroom. But many people work from home through technology, or start their own businesses to ensure flexible schedules. Since we belong to a generation where often both parents work, the need to possess flexible jobs to be with children is a necessity. In the traditional generation, you either worked steadily or you didn't work at all, and while they were driven by self-pride, my generation is driven by change. We aren't just working to work or working to make money. We are working to make a difference, to be the best, to support ourselves in the life that we dream for ourselves. The days of women marrying rich to attain a certain standard are over. We now work to attain it ourselves, because what's the use in waiting on some man anyway? We require personal relationships with our co-workers and require constant feedback from our bosses to make sure we are being the best we can be. We create documents, use databases for research, email, text 24/7, and are always on the lookout for the next technological resource to use in our profession. I can't tell you how much of a better teacher I've become by stealing ideas from Teachers Pay Teachers and Pinterest, and business and medical professions are no different.

My generation has several jobs at the same time in hopes to build parallel careers. I am seeking to teach, blog, design lesson plans, and sew. I currently work at a daycare, at a high school coaching color guard, and babysitting. While the traditional generation looked for ways to enhance the effectiveness of one company, their company, the millennial generation is looking for a way to expand everything: their company, their life, their career, their salary, and their social network. We are always looking for the next challenge and seeking to conquer it. We want to be the hero of our field, the one you call for help, the one you always take your questions to. But most of all, we want the world in our hands, and we want it now. 

There are problems with both generations. For one, my Granddad is too stubborn to quit. But other than that, he placed such a high priority on work all his life, that he couldn't find enough hobbies to sustain his life when he finally quit. That's certainly no concern in my generation. The problem with my generation is that we have too many hobbies to truly flourish in our careers.

When asking each generation what their expectation of career development is, you're likely to get very different responses. Traditionalists are content: "I'm just happy to have a job." Baby Boomers (1946-1964) like reward: "I'd like my dedication to my company to be recognized." Generation X (1965-1980) gets impatient when things aren't moving quickly: "When am I going to get my raise? I've been working so hard!" but the millennial generation is entitled: "What on Earth do you mean you aren't promoting me? I'm so clearly the best one here!"

This is seen every day in young classrooms. Kids these days have "ADD" and "ADHD," disorders that were not only laughed at, but not even around in previous generations. These short attention spans are due to modern fiery passion, technology centered lessons, and the belief that we have to have information now. They require personal, customized approaches to learning because if they get bored, they'll find something else to do.

There is definite charm to our new generation of workers. We applaud their ability to complete tasks quickly and efficiently. We call them in when we want the next big idea because we know they've probably already thought of it. We live in a day and age where everyone is an innovator every time they have a new idea, and because of this, everyone thinks they are the best. So our respect for authority has gone out the window. Our patience is never good because it's rarely tested. We have plenty of hard-nosed, headstrong, confident and effective individuals. We need more respect. We need more patience. We need more people who are willing to roll up their sleeves and get dirty. We don't like to work with people who didn't have to climb their way to the top because they act like they're the best thing to happen to the world since Jesus himself came to save it. So while it's good to teach kids that "they can do anything," we also need to teach them that it might require a little work.

"Nothing worthwhile is ever easy." -Nicholas Sparks

And whether you like his books or not, this quote applies to everything.

I hated traditional Disney princesses growing up because they didn't do a single thing for themselves. I admired princesses like Jasmine, Ariel, and Belle. They did stand up for themselves and they did get what they dreamed of on their own. Jasmine snuck out without the help of a prince. Ariel was stupid to give up her voice, but she got to land on her own. Belle's heart and sacrifice was what gave her the adventure she'd been dreaming of, not the beast. But no one can deny that these princesses didn't have to work very hard. 

Today, little girls are being raised on princesses like Rapunzel, a teenager who escaped on an adventure and used her knowledge of experience to break free of her captivity. Girls are dressing up like Tiana for Halloween, a young Louisiana woman who dreamed of owning her own restaurant and took the time to climb her way to the top. If these princesses were real, I'd love to work for them. They know what it's like to rough it, which heightens our respect for them. We're all tired of entitled people.

I know there are elements of myself that I would want my children to have, but I also know there are elements of my Wal-Mart greeting Granddad that I would want them to have, too. So with our next generation, let's teach them to be a little less like us and a little more like their grandparents. Because there's a little of every generation inside all of us, and we've neglected our traditional work-ethic long enough.

Why Giving Your Students Control Of Their Learning Can Actually Work

I often hesitate to call teaching a "profession," because in actuality it is so much more than that. It is making a difference, it's molding the future. It's not just merely a "profession," but is instead creating all other professions. And that's a lot of responsibility. But we've heard all those clichés before, so we work harder.

The reality of teaching is that we are tired, we are stressed, and we work harder than we ever thought we would. We spend extra hours planning for the next day's lessons off the clock. We put all our energy into class each day and worry about our students all night. We cry for the students we are unable to help outside of school, and praise God that not all of them need the extra protection. We think about them all the time: about what we can do better to get them motivated, focused, and driven to success. Sometimes we have a plan. Sometimes we just don't know what else to do. And those days are the hardest. The days you feel completely defeated, and you genuinely wonder what ever qualified you to be a teacher anyway.

Those days are the hardest because you genuinely feel like giving up, and you are in one of the only professions that would hurt everyone else around you more than yourself if you decided to quit. Because when you're a teacher, your students need you.

I'd reached that point recently coaching a high school color guard. I even blogged about it a few nights ago; about that moment when you've hit your breaking point, when you wonder what more you can even do because you're completely out of ideas. I'd had some girls so unmotivated they hadn't passed memory tests and were unable to perform at competitions. I had some girls who were ineligible due to grades, and bound the law to not perform until their grades had risen above a certain point. I had some girls who refused to practice, who refused to count, who refused to set their bossy attitude and smart-aleck replies aside to take instruction and develop as a performer. And if you know anything about color guard, these things are crucial.

Because it's a team sport.

Every time one person is not practicing and performing to their fullest potential, the team as a whole suffers tremendously. And in addition to these girls who refused to do the required criteria, there were also girls who always did what they were told. They always counted, they always practiced, they always kept their grades and always passed their memory tests. They never mouthed off, they always followed directions, and they were always doing what they were instructed to do. I sympathize for these girls because when I was in guard, I was that girl. I was the one that was always overly-motivated and held back by the unmotivated. I was always screaming counts and taking instruction and practicing when I didn't have something down. And I hated watching videos of our performances knowing that other members were not doing the same.

Now, as an instructor, I didn't know what else to do. We'd done push ups. We'd run laps. I had promised rewards of food in exchange for good performances (I know that always worked for me). We'd had gentle pep talks and frustrating pow-wows. Whether they responded to kind encouragement or harsh instruction, I was determined to get them motivated somehow, but nothing seemed to work.

So today, I took a chance.

I cleared it with the school board and put all my girls in the show for competition day. Everyone who was eligible, ineligible, counting, not counting, sassy, or kind, whether they had been practicing or not, warmed up together today. And don't think this is a miraculous story where they whipped it all together instantly. If I'm being truthful, the beginning of warm up was awful. I legitimately thought I'd lost my mind. To make that decision, I must've totally gone mad! It was as if no one had touched their flag all season! People were seemingly just doing whatever they wanted, not using technique, not counting, and not even remembering what came next.

So I took a breath, said another prayer, and pulled them all together for a pow-wow. Everyone was bright eyed like they'd just won the whole competition. Didn't they know how awful it was when they didn't focus or pay attention to one another? Apparently not. So I asked, "Alright girls, what do you need?"

I don't think they thought I was serious. They all just stared at me. So I continued: "Do you need more information? Do you need me to clarify some counts? Do you need me to change a part of the work you are unable to do? What do you need?" They still didn't answer, so I said, "Don't you want to be good?"

That question got a resounding "YES!"

And when I asked again, "Okay. Well there's only so much I can do. I can give counts and run rehearsals, but the moment you step onto the field, it's out of my control. It's up to you. So before we go out there, what do you need from me?"

They erupted into questions. We clarified counts, adjusted work, ran segments till their arms were sore, and suddenly, it began coming together. And that's when it hit me: they always wanted to be good. Like every other kid learning their ABC's or Calculus II, they wanted to impress. They'd invested too much time to give up, and they weren't ready to. But they had reached their breaking point, too. My frustration had made them feel so defeated, they had given up on themselves.

Just to clarify, I had never once verbally expressed my frustration with them, and if I do say so myself, I'm a fairly decent actress. It was not obvious at rehearsals that I was losing hope, but students are perceptive to these things, just as children are with parents. They don't realize they're feeding off your emotions, but they are.

This warm-up was different, and not just because I had all my girls together, ready to perform, and motivated to do well. It was different because I had given them a chance they deserved, a chance that I had denied them of previously, to prove themselves to me and to themselves. Not only were they showing me they were capable of fulfilling the potential I saw at summer camp, they were showing themselves that they could, in fact, do everything they told themselves they couldn't.

We didn't win the competition. We didn't win best color guard. But that's okay, because in 20 years, those girls won't remember what place they scored at their competitions. But I can guarantee they'll remember the day they took the field in competition and had their best run of the season as a full color guard. There were girls who hadn't marched all season because they didn't have any idea what was going on. There were girls who had missed every sectional and rehearsal and couldn't figure out why they were failing band. There were girls who had been denied performing due to grades and attendance in other classes. There were a lot of outside factors that had contributed to the frustration I'd had with the season so far, as there always are for teachers every year: a season of mountain peaks and a season of the deepest valleys.

We were in a pretty deep valley. But today, I prayed a little harder, and gave my girls a chance. A chance they had deserved all along. Because they'd given up on themselves before we'd really even started, and needed to know that I believed in them enough to keep trying anyway. Once they proved themselves out there today, I realized it wasn't that they didn't care. It wasn't that they were lazy. It wasn't even that they didn't have the information they needed to take the field.

They didn't have the confidence.

Teachers are paid to teach students. That's our "profession." But we all know we're here for the outcome rather than the income. We want to see our students excel. We don't sleep at night knowing our students have so much potential and we aren't helping them reach it, but we can't help them reach it if we don't give them a chance. Sometimes it takes quiet encouragement. Sometimes it takes extreme discipline. But when you've tried all you know to try, try giving them a chance. Put the reins in their hands, because there's only so much you can do. Sometimes you have to take a step back and let them prove to themselves that they are smart enough, and talented enough, and strong enough to accomplish what they thought they never could. Because once they prove it to themselves, they don't want to stop working.

My girls are more motivated now than they ever have been before. I can't wait to see what the rest of the season has in store for us. I was really starting to think we had peaked, because as far as what I was in control of, we had peaked. But as far as what they were in control of? We are far from peaking. My girls have so much hidden potential that was unlocked tonight. And whether you believe it or not (because for a good while, I know I sure didn't), your students have that potential, too.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Big / Lil Flower Headbands

My roommate returned from the craft store this evening with two bouquets of fake flowers, glitter card stock, and black elastic. She then went on to explain that her professional business fraternity, Alpha Kappa Psi, had big and little brothers/sisters as the social fraternities and sororities do. They were having a reveal party this weekend and she had to make matching flower headbands for herself and her two littles.

"That's so cute!" I told her, and I really did think so. But I went on to make dinner, completely missing her hint. When you're the crafty one of the apartment, you're expected to take part in such an affair. But I missed my cue. After I sat down with my plate of stroganoff, she said, "So... Do you want to craft with me tonight?" 

"Sure!" I told her, honestly thankful for the invite and rather excited. I was already on Pinterest looking at what canvas I wanted to paint to fill the spare wall in my room. But then she responded: "Oh thank God!" That's when I realized I wasn't to make a canvas, I was to make flower headbands. 

Are you in a sorority in need of matching big/lil attire? These headbands are super cute, and look like they require a lot more work than they actually do! 

Here's what you'll need: 
--elastic (or pre-made headbands)
--access to a printer
--glitter card stock
--craft glue
--needle and thread

Step 1: 
Sew your elastic into a headband if you did not buy pre-made headbands. Cut your flowers free from your stems. 

Step 2:
Print out your Big/Lil stencils. We just used a word document to test out different sizes and cut out each letter separate. Computer paper works fine to trace! 
Step 3:
Stencil your letters onto the card stock. Remember to trace on the back so no marks are left on the front. **NOTE: You must stencil your letters BACKWARDS on the back of the paper to ensure they come out correctly.** Cut out your letters from the card stock and glue them to the center of the headband with craft glue. Press firmly for 2-3 minutes until dry. 
Step 4: 
Cut the stems of your flowers as closely as possible. Position one by one in place on the head band, sewing loosely around the center of the flowers from behind. **NOTE: You cannot glue the fake flowers due to their plastic stems.** It helps to sew the petals close to the center. Don't attempt to sew the plastic center! 

Step 5: 
Continue with each flower until you have sewn three on each side of your word. 

Step 6: 
Repeat same process for all other headbands until necessary amount is complete! 

And now this big sister is ready to go for her reveal... And she looks mighty cute, too! Enjoy! 

Want your crafts featured on Taxis, Tots, and Polka Dots? Email me your ideas at

Why Bad Things Happen To Good People

For years, I have been trying to bring one of my best friends to Christ. I have not been forceful and have not shoved it down his throat. It's been lots of spontaneous deep conversations when the subject arises, lots of bible references, and lots and lots of prayers. He is a textbook Christian. He knows all the answers and he's rehearsed all the lines, but when it comes down to placing his faith in Christ and truly giving his heart to God, he can't.

He was abused by his mother as a child. “She was a severe alcoholic who would force me and my brother to be her personal slaves until my dad got home,” he told me once, “She never wanted dad to find out.” This went on for years before his dad returned home on a Christmas Eve night and witnessed her passed out drunk on the couch with the boys hiding in their closet. “I just have a hard time believing that the God you describe would cause all that,” I remember him saying, “And if He does cause such things, I have an even harder time understanding why.”

I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know. And I still haven’t completely solved the mystery, but I’ve been thinking about it since that day.

A few nights ago, one of my friends started reading a book for her religion class entitled When Bad Things Happen To Good People. The book touches on a few theories that are commonly used…the same clichés we accept as answers today.

1) God gives us what we deserve.

I find absolutely no truth to this. Any Christian believes that Jesus died a brutal death on the cross for our sins so that we may live with Him forever after our Earthly death, and that He is working to prepare a place for us in Heaven. The whole point of this concept is that He is forgiving, merciful, and loving. We do not deserve the grace that He gives us, but because He loves us, we are able to receive it. If God gave us what we deserved, we would all rot in hell where we are doomed. But He isn’t heartless. He is a loving and gracious God that will save us from eternal misery. And all we have to do is believe in Him and attempt to love Him the same way He loves us.

And even if He did give us “what we deserve,” what child ever deserves abuse from their own parent? What child, what woman, what person deserves any type of abuse at all?

Whether it’s abuse or not, many of us have experienced pain so deep that we would not wish it on our worst enemy. If God wouldn’t wish that type of suffering on His enemy (THE enemy), how could we think that God would cause the same suffering to His own children? Why would our loving Creator make bad things happen to us to show us that we are unworthy and undeserving? That goes against literally everything that we Christians say He is. It is the complete opposite of love. It is also the complete opposite of Christ.

2) God has reasons for making things happen but we cannot understand those reasons. 

This can be comforting to us, and there may be some truth to this, but I can’t help but think it was just the easiest answer to the ever present question. No, God did not design us to understand everything He does, but it isn’t very humble and loving to throw tragic curveballs like child abuse into our lives to demonstrate His power and show us our lack of understanding. That couldn’t be His purpose. It is easy and convenient to say that it’s all a part of a bigger picture that we can’t see, but in the moment, we never care about the big picture. We are angry, frustrated, and torn apart by the pain we are experiencing now, and have very little interest in what He has in store for us later. And He knows that. Patience may be a lesson He’s trying to teach, but He wouldn’t use something like abuse to teach it. He would use something a bit more temporary or find a better way, like any good teacher would.

3) God causes suffering because it is educational. 

I don’t even know what to say to this one. To me, there is nothing more screwed up than this theory. Studies have shown drastic changes in teaching principles over the years, including ways to teach patience and discipline to young children. None of these ways involve suffering. Teachers are not even allowed to spank their students anymore, even privately, and new parenting techniques have stopped teaching the “appropriate times” to spank. They have actually begun to discourage it altogether. Because suffering is a scaring mechanism, not a teaching mechanism. Does spanking work? For some, yes it does. It sure worked for me. I was so scared of my parents being disappointed in me, I never even threw a temper tantrum. But looking back, I am aware that I was only well behaved because I was afraid of getting caught, not necessarily because it was the right thing to do. So now, instead of spanking and other forms of “discipline,” children are taught to “use their words.” Teachers are now trained to encourage children to talk about what’s going on, discuss what was wrong with what they’d done, and discover the various consequences on their own. Communication is key. This causes them to learn discipline and become aware of what might happen if they continue doing wrong. This teaches patience and self-discipline rather than using pain and suffering to drill it into their minds.

When I first read this theory of suffering, it was like reading about the effects of spanking. It didn’t make any sense. It still doesn’t really. Just as spanking arguably does nothing but defend a teacher’s impatience and rage towards a disobedient child as a disciplinary technique, it only seems like this theory is meant to defend God when bad things happen, not to explain the consequences or even to comfort you in your time of need. It seems like it is nothing more than a sorry excuse for shielding God’s plan. First of all, God’s plan stands on it’s own. Second, it certainly needs no defense from us. What’s ironic to me is that God made an entire universe, all the Heavens and the Earth, and made humans last. I sincerely believe that part of that reason was so we wouldn’t get in the way. We think we know everything! And the truth is simple. We don’t. God doesn’t need our help. He never has, and He never will. It’s best for us to accept this now.

Let’s go back to a point I made earlier. Communication is key. Just as children must talk to their teachers and one another to learn and grow in integrity, we must also talk to God and our brothers and sisters in Christ to learn and grow in our faith.

All these theories fall short of an adequate answer. When we are told that “God gives us what we deserve,” our instant thought is “What did I ever do to deserve this?” When we are told that God causes suffering because it is educational, we want to know what exactly we are supposed to be learning from our pained experience. And when we are told that God has reasons for making things happen, we want to know the reason; we want to know why we can’t understand, and why He won’t reveal it to us. After all, that would make things easier, right? If we could see the light at the end of the tunnel, it wouldn’t make the darkness seem so dark.

The problem with all these theories is that they assume that God is the source of our suffering. That is an absolute lie.

Earth is not a perfect place like God designed it to be. Inevitably, bad things are going to happen. And while God is all powerful, He does not sit up on a cloud in Heaven dictating what heartbroken woman will get ovarian cancer and what precious child will die of SIDS in order to preserve the mentality that “God only gives you the struggles you are strong enough to handle.”

After the fall, God was no longer in complete control. The world became a mess of total chaos, and another force entered the scene, demanding control and fighting as hard as he could to get it. Satan. God is not responsible for suffering. Satan is. And why does God allow it? Because He took a chance. When He created Adam and Eve, He took a huge risk in creating men and women to have free will. Could He have made us without free will? Of course. He could be in control of everything if He wanted to be, but if He was in control of our emotions, we would be physically and emotionally incapable of loving Him. Love requires a selfless devotion, not forced affection. He is in control, but we are in control, too. And because we are not perfect and we are vulnerable to Satan’s attacks, He must find silver linings in every bad situation to attempt to show us that His love still exists and He is still there. That’s where the mentality that “God causes suffering and painful situations to show how deep His love really is” comes from. God does not cause suffering, so for as long as it exists, He must work with what He has. The bottom line is that Satan is delusional and actually thinks he has a chance of winning. If God always had complete control, Satan would’ve given up a long time ago. Adam and Eve would not have sinned, and the world would still be perfect. It would’ve been foolish for him to continue. But no, he won’t give up because he believes he has a chance. We, as Christians, cannot give him that chance. We must not allow him that victory. And it starts with not doubting and blaming God for the wrong done to you in this life.

“But you still haven’t answered the question completely,” you say. I know I haven’t. I’m getting there. You don’t just want to know why bad things happen, you want to know why they happen to good people. Why does suffering happen to those who don’t deserve it? Why do you work so hard to obey God and live for him and you're the one with the diagnosis or the major financial problem, when people who don’t serve God at all have nothing wrong with their life?

My friend and I got to thinking. If bad things are going to happen, why doesn’t God prevent them from happening to his children and direct the suffering to bad people? Well, think about it. If Christians were not tested, we would not grow. There would be no relationship built on trust, love, and surrender. If suffering never happened to Christians, there would be no faith. There would be no hope in Heaven, no faith in Christ, and no waiting for a happy ever after.

Not to mention… Why would Satan target the ones he already has? This is the biggest thing to remember. Satan isn’t here to make his followers’ lives miserable. He is here to take us down. He is here to ruin a Christian’s love and desire to serve, and make us faithless. He can do this through many, many ways, but the major things are sin and suffering. Suffering causes us to lose faith and demand answers from God that are not always His to give, and sin is the most powerful way because it requires forgiveness, a mercy that is not so easily given out. And you don’t just need forgiveness from one person… One sin always requires at least two acts of forgiveness (God, and the person your sin directly affected), and often many more.

The good news is… If God is not responsible for our pain, we can skip being angry at Him and run to Him for comfort. Like a father with a broken child, He is there to soothe our woes, mend our hearts, and dry our tears. And we have all experienced pain. It makes some people bitter, but it makes most of us sensitive and compassionate toward one another. So if we would just stop blaming God and handle things a little differently, pain can even bring us closer to one another. And it can bring us closer to God.

Maybe you’ve lost a child. Maybe you’ve been forced to file for bankruptcy. Maybe you’ve been diagnosed with a deadly disease, lost your job, or just had a traumatizing breakup with that guy you actually thought it was finally going to work out with. Whatever you’re going through, I know it feels like failure. But it isn’t.

The first thing to remember is that it isn’t your fault. The second thing to remember is that it’s not God’s fault either. And the most important thing to remember, is that it is Satan’s fault. He has targeted you so that you will fail; so that you will give up. He has targeted you because he is jealous of you, because of how beautiful you are and how much wonder you bring to this world. He has targeted you because he is afraid of you. Yes. Afraid of you. With God on your side, you are stronger than he is. And that’s just more than he can take.

We have to stop running from the source of our strength, the creator of our beauty, and the Lord of the universe. The sooner we stop pointing fingers in the wrong direction, the sooner we become even more powerful than ever before. I know it’s hard. I’ve had as much heartbreak as the next young lady. But I also take peace in knowing that pain is only temporary, and love will last forever.

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Easy Chicken Noodle Casserole

When I woke up this morning, it was a typical October Sunday: 49 degrees with a fall breeze, clouds covering the sky, and not a single ounce motivation to leave the apartment. I didn't even change clothes. I stayed in my sweatpants, fixed some warm coffee, and swaddled myself in a blanket on the couch, where I remained all afternoon. It was one of those days where you eat chili for dinner and drink hot chocolate while you read a book. It was a hot tea, grilled cheese, and tomato soup kind of day. But when you're a college kid with only a package of uncooked noodles, some leftover chicken, frozen veggies, random spices in the pantry, and about half a gallon of milk left in the fridge, your options become instantly limited.

But limited or not, my roommates and I wanted a warm autumn dinner, the kind of dinner to fit with our comfort-filled day of relaxation. So I improvised (as I usually do when I don't know what else to do), and if I do say so myself, it turned out pretty good!

Here's what you'll need: 

~Egg Noodles
~Frozen Peas, Carrots, Corn, and Green Beans
~Cream of Mushroom Soup
~Cream of Chicken Soup
~1/2 Onion

My chicken was left over, so make sure your chicken is cooked prior to preparation.

As for the process, it's pretty easy! Just cook the noodles as you normally would (or according the package), and combine the rest of the ingredients into a large bowl. Once the noodles have cooked, drain them and then add them to the mixture. Stir them in well. Pour the whole mixture into a casserole dish, cover, and bake at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes. Then uncover and cook for about 10 more minutes (or until heated throughout the casserole).

I paired my dish with warm biscuits (for a chicken and dumplings type of meal) but it's great all on it's own. It's super easy, and it's great for days like today! It can also be refrigerated for leftovers and frozen for the next time you have a day where it's too cozy to get out or you're feeling under the weather. Just heat it up and you're ready to go!


Thursday, October 1, 2015

When You've Reached the Breaking Point

Though I intern with young children, I am also a high school color guard instructor. Like any teacher, there are days where I want to quit. There are also days where I cry at the thought of my girls graduating, because I love them dearly and hate to see them go. There are days that are simply pleasurably enjoyable and there are days when you wonder what you're even doing there.

Let's get one thing straight. I love color guard. And I love these girls. But I teach young children for a reason. Yes, I do just as many lesson plans for my high schoolers as I do for my youngsters. I worry about them just as much when I get home, and pray for them just as much at night. While I am at work or in class or even at my own practices, I am thinking about them. But I have a real thing about maturity: the older you get, the more you should have, and unfortunately, we probably all know this is simply not the case.

You see, when my two-year-old's tell me "no," I know that it is a normal developmental process. They are learning to assert themselves and communicate, and as frustrating as "no" is, it is essential. Does it mean they shouldn't be disciplined anyway? No. But at least we understand that when a toddler says "no," they are not yet old enough to know better. But I have high schoolers who tell me no. I have high schoolers who question my authority. I have high schoolers who cannot stand not being in control, and refuse to listen to instructions and commands. Some even refuse to answer my questions if they feel it is beneath them. These girls are the epitome of the Entitlement Generation: they think the rules don't apply to them.

Now granted, not all my girls are like this, but the bottom line is: I'm their coach. When they drop, they do push-ups. When they are late, they run laps. When they have not practiced enough to know their show, they do not perform. I have rules and they are to be obeyed.

I received two emails this week from two different members of my guard. One was from the captain, an exquisite leader with ultimate patience and always follows the rules. The other was from one I've had to approach several times due to her lack of compliance. I've had to hold meetings with her, with the band director, and have threatened that the next time will be with principal. I hope she knows I am serious. But that's beside the point.

I think you're starting to get the picture.

Both these girls had an automatic electronic signature attached to the bottom of their emails. The captain's read, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about." The other girl's read, "I will not be taken advantage of again." I don't know if they realize I can see those things. I seriously doubt they care. But it really got me thinking.

Every woman has been at that breaking point; the point where they have been walked all over, trampled upon, and mistreated so many times that they snap, vowing "I will be strong, and I will not be taken advantage of again!" Anyone who has been around a woman after she has made this vow knows that she becomes a very hostile woman, only thinking of herself in attempt to guard her own heart. And I don't think that selfish image is the image any of us want to portray, but so many of us do without even realizing it.

I don't know what happened to my abrasive high schooler to make her the way that she is, but my guess is, she's been through a lot. She's been hurt. She's been wounded. She's been screwed over one too many times. She's well past her breaking point. But here's the deal: So has the captain. For the sake of all confidentiality, I will not discuss a single thing about the captain's life, but in more ways than one, she's got it pretty rough. Just trust me on that. So if both of these girls have been trampled, wounded, bruised, torn, and scarred, why are they so different? 

They had both reached the same breaking point, but how they handled their breaking point was totally different. One girl set out to stand up for herself to the point of selfishness, while the other embarked on the ultimate challenge: treating everyone with the respect and love that she wanted people to give to her. But the effectiveness of their achievement is the biggest difference of all. Both girls achieved their goal: You would never guess either of them had ever been broken. But one girl I would trust with my life, and the other is a test of patience every day.

There is an overwhelming pressure in today's society for women to be strong, and I believe that we should be. I've written my own post about how women should be powerful, strong, beautiful creatures, because we are taken advantage of all the time. Think about it ladies. The quickest way to get a guy to leave you alone is to tell him that you have a boyfriend (even if you're single!), because he respects another man more than he respects you. It's not enough that you don't want to go out with him. It's not enough that you're interested in someone else. It's only enough when you are already taken by someone else. If that doesn't speak volumes, I don't know what does. We get taken advantage of. But God doesn't call us to be harsh and powerful, he calls us to be strong and dignified. 

God is clear on what a good woman should be in Proverbs 31.

"She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future. When she speaks, her words are wise, and she gives instructions with kindness. She carefully watches everything in her household, and suffers nothing from laziness." 

"She is energetic and strong, a hard worker."

"She extends a helping hand to the poor, and opens her arms to the needy."

And a personal favorite of mine...

"Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last; but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised." 

Margaret Nadauld said it best:

"The world has enough women who are tough,
     we need more women who are tender.

There are enough women women who are coarse,
     we need women who are kind.

There are enough women who are rude,
     we need women who are refined.

There are enough women of fame and fortune,

     we need women of faith.

We have enough greed,
     we need more goodness.

We have enough vanity,
     we need more virtue.

And we have enough popularity,
     we need more purity."

The world needs more refined minds. We need more pure hearts. We need more virtuous souls. We need more Christ-centered women.

So when you've hit that breaking point, you've got a choice to make. Do you callous yourself to stand up to your oppressors? Or do you choose to love them? That choice is never easy. So instead I'll ask it a different way: Which kind of woman do you want to be?

I know which woman I am most likely to be, and it's not the same woman I want to be. And I don't know about you, but I've got a new quote tacked to my bulletin board...

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about."