there ain't no easy way, no there ain't no easy way out.

I have been listening to this song a lot lately--Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. It really jams, and the beat makes me want to dance. I did actually, in my bedroom, the first time I played it tonight. I'm now on listen number three.

I feel like I've been spun through the rinse cycle. Extra large load. Heavy duty super clean. I'm exhausted, exhilirated, broken hearted, and disappointed. I've cried today, I've laughed hard, I've felt deep and intense anger. I've felt surges of mother-love. I know I'm no one's mother, but I'm developing strong maternal feelings towards the kids I work with every day.

I've been thinking a lot about that lately--about parenting. There have been a couple new sensations that have hit me lately that have made me sort of step back in awe of parents. The first was this: I have been co-directing a middle school play the past four months. About a week ago, I was struck by the idea that I hadn't the slightest clue if I was actually impacting anyone. I have had to be firm and strict a lot in the past few weeks, and I feel like all I ever do is yell and chew people out. And I wonder if that's what the students will take away from this whole experience. How do I know if I'm actually influencing them for the good? I care about all of them--every single one--so much, and people say that the students will know that you love them, and will recognize that. But this week, I had some students say some things about me that made me feel like all the hours of work I put into this play were unwanted. So, I'm in awe of parents who spend their whole lives molding and teaching a child, and just hoping and praying that he takes all the values they are trying to teach him and applies them. When, in spite of it all, the child turns out to be a man or woman who respects others, loves God intensely, it is almost a miracle. I think it's a perfect example of God using us through and in spite of our weaknesses.

The other thing that blows my mind is the intensity of love that parents have for their children. I don't understand why I love my students the way I do--I don't really have deep conversations with them, I don't spend time with them outside of school, I don't work to clothe and feed them, I know them in only one context. And yet I know I love them. More deeply than I've ever loved anyone outside of my family before. And it's true--I feel more strongly toward some than others--but even the ones I strongly dislike, I still care about. And I'm not their parents. I can't imagine what it must feel like to love my own flesh and blood--someone I've carried around inside of me, someone I've taken care of since his birth, a child I've held in my own arms, who runs to me when he's afraid.

I love being a teacher. Even though it's the most stressful and frightening thing I have ever done in my life.