SingTeachRun

I am four weeks into my 12-week, half-marathon training program, and I have a confession to make: I am running better than I deserve to run. It simply does not make any sense, because I have yet to complete a full week's workout.  Unless you consider rehearsing with the band for an hour and then leading worship for 30-40 minutes cross training, I have skipped the Sunday workout entirely, and I plan to continue that pattern. Actually, that was always my intention, so I don't feel so bad about leaving out that part of the weekly workout.   But I had planned to live up to the schedule in every other way. That would mean three runs during the week (between three and five miles), and a long run on Saturday, which increases in distance by one mile a week, until I run a 12-miler the week before the race. That doesn't sound so hard, does it? Just three short runs in five days--that should be easy enough for a real runner . . . a dedicated runner. So far, I have only gotten...

In the last several years of my teaching career, I have made a conscious decision to trust my students. As a part of my opening day speech, I tell my students that even though they have done nothing yet to earn my trust, I choose to trust them. I tell them that I am on their side and that I will believe what they say to me. If a student tells me his computer crashed just when he was about to send me his essay (the 21st century version of "the dog ate my homework"), I believe him. If a student says she is not ready for her quiz because she was at the hospital all night with her sick grandmother, I believe her. Or at least I act like I believe her, and frankly, most of the time I do. And if I find out one of my students has lied to me, I don't feel stupid. As one of my teacher mentors, Jeff Wilhelm, would say, "it's not my bad." It's not my job to suspect every student of lying and cheating. It is my job to teach, and I know that to teach well, I n...

My 48th birthday was last week, on February 28th. I celebrated by not grading papers that night, and by experiencing the strange and wonderful bombardment of birthday greetings that comes with having a Facebook account. In the days just before and the days since my birthday, I have continued to feel overwhelmed by just what a happy birthday--what a happy life--I have. I keep finding myself adapting the Lou Gehrig line: "I am the happiest 48-year-old woman on the face of the earth." As I shared at my church last Sunday morning, I know that "happy" seems too overused, too trite to fully encompass what I feel. I am happy, as in fortunate and blessed.  I am blessed with a family (immediate and extended) who I love and who love me expansively and determinedly.  I am blessed with a job I love (even when I don't).  I am blessed with students who I enjoy and treasure and love (even when I don't). I am blessed with a voice that can sing. I am bless...