If you want to be humbled...

...learn a new language. I watched my dad read one of the prayers tonight at mass, in front of a packed church, in Spanish.

I find it rather frustrating to hear people say, "I wish I could speak Spanish." The answer in my head is always, "You can! Learn it!" My dad is doing just that--learning Spanish. He was sitting on my bed the other night reading me prayers and a homily he would read in Spanish at mass. He'd read them multiple times and had practiced them over and over but they still weren't perfect. He was frustrated as he stumbled through some of the more difficult words and even some of the words that are easy to pronounce but fumble out. He groaned and I laughed, and then we laughed together. We talked together about how difficult it is to speak Spanish and I assured him his Spanish was getting better (I don't know how much he actually believed me).

You see, it's hard to believe someone that you are speaking a language better unless that is his or her mother tongue. I get it--it isn't as reassuring to him that I am telling him his Spanish is getting better as opposed to someone who has spoken Spanish all of his or her life. I spent months living in Chile for the sole purpose of learning Spanish and I still get excited when someone compliments my Spanish.

Learning a language requires an extreme amount of vulnerability...well if you are really learning it. To those of you who do Rosetta Stone or your Dualingo everyday, I commend your efforts but is that all you're doing? I'm guessing if you have done either one of those you can read, write, and speak in small phrases. However, how long would the cat have your tongue if you were asked to speak or converse with native speakers? Speaking and listening add a whole new level to learning a language. You know you will make mistakes. You know you will fumble through words. You risk being laughed at--or even worse, someone just giving up on you and saying, "Sorry, I don't understand".

When people realize I speak Spanish, I keep saying Spanish because that is how it relates to my life and perspective but I feel as if the same applies to any language, and they do not expect me to speak Spanish, the first thing I hear is, "Say something to me in Spanish!" I used to do this when I was little--but boy do I hate this phrase now. "What would you like for me to say?" I respond. "I don't know, just say something in Spanish." Wow, what an annoying and tiring conversation. Not only does it put you on the spot but it also puts doubt in your mind (or at least it does mine). For instance, what if I mess up or it doesn't sound correct--of course I can say something in Spanish but clearly that is not the point.

Even now, as a Spanish teacher, I still second guess myself many times. I can think in Spanish, have long conversations, go to a restaurant, talk on the phone, etc. all of the things that I can do requiring me to speak in English I can also do in Spanish. My dad isn't there yet, but he is well on his way and I am proud of him for that.

If you really want to learn a language, get off of Rosetta Stone and humble yourself to the world and conversations of other people from other cultures and other languages.

Dare Greatly

Looking back through my blog, I find that the majority of my posts came while in college during a time of exploration and then slowly the posts became fewer--until now, where you see a post from me once every couple of years. The two year post has always been written when a significant change is happening in my life--when I was entering Teach For America, when I was moving to my placement region, and most recently (2015), when I was moving from Raymondville to home. Writing today, being no coincidence at all, I am also experiencing a change--in town and teaching discipline.

Someone asked me the other day how long I had been teaching, and when it dawned on me that I was beginning my fifth year in the classroom, time seemed to stand still (think of a slow motion video of your life from the past few years flashing in front of you). Many of my mentors have been teaching for numerous years and have experience far surpassing my own. I am thankful to have all of these wonderful people in my life. Two weeks ago, I moved from Gruver to Denison, TX where I will be teaching Spanish and Coaching basketball and softball. When deciding where to move and continue my career, one of the most important pieces of my ideal environment were the people I would be surrounded by. I had a chance to move to a different school, as a head softball coach, where the team had been to the state tournament the past few years and will probably continue to do so for the next bit. However, in Denison, I have people. People who I love and know love me. People I am loyal to and are loyal to me. And to me, being happy is being around these kinds of people. 

When I graduated from St. Edward's University, with my degree in English Literature, I was not sure how I would be able to use my education--mainly because there are many evil articles filling the internet such as "What to do with an English degree". Though these articles are meant to be helpful, often times I think they are misguiding. I am a firm believer that with an English degree, you can get hired to do what you want to do. When I graduated from Johns Hopkins University with my Masters of Science in Education, I had no idea how I would use the degree to continue my career (I still don't--clue me in if you have any ideas). Though both experiences were different, there was one constant throughout all five years--the people surrounding me and supporting me throughout my education. If you don't already know, my parents are hands down the smartest, most selfless, most loving, and undoubtedly coolest people I know. My best friends are wonderful--whether they are near or far. All of the professors that I had in the English Literature department deserve a raise because they continue to teach me even though I no longer sit at a desk while they teach from the podium. And last but not least, my brother, who let me live with him and managed to deal with my all-day Sunday homework studies while I was working on my masters. 

The other constant support that I have received since I was sixteen is from my late dog Reggie who passed away in June. Though many of you may not understand the value of companionship with a dog, Reggie was with me through many bumps and joyous moments and was the only one who greeted me everyday after school with a twist of his body bucking up and down like a bull because he was so happy to see me. I have adopted my parents' dog Raider who is now with me in Denison. He's not Reggie and hasn't been my boy for almost ten years but he's a great companion as well and gets riled up in excitement when I get home everyday. 

The last time I wrote a post, I was fixing to be entering the world of Special Education. I wasn't worried really--I just had no idea what to expect. Teaching English is still my forte and I imagine I will love teaching Spanish as well. But at this point, I have decided that my true gift is not what I teach, my gift lies in how I teach. I am a relationship builder and have a love for teaching kids that is, at this time, unexplainable. Someone who I respect once told me that my greatest strength was being able to pull the good out of kids that no one else could even see. I know I am only able to do this because so many other teachers have done this for me. 

I moved into a rent house in Denison that some would call luxury and others would call a dump. For me, my little house is perfect. Living abroad and living in Willacy County taught me that I don't need much to be happy. I have a roof over my head, cool air, a bed, and couches that are comfy. To me, living in Gruver was luxury. Here I have a fridge that is regular size and makes ice--in the first house I lived in, I had a mini fridge and no freezer. I have my very own washer and dryer! After going to the laundromat for two years and washing my laundry at my aunt's house during college (Wid you're the best), I know the value of being able to do laundry at home--let me tell you, it's a blessing. I have wifi--which I did not have in the Valley and I also have more than five gallons of hot water. My house is just right for me--it has everything that I need and I couldn't be more thankful to have found such a great place so quickly (I also have a stove where all of the burners work). Many students that I have taught and will teach do not have these things in their houses--the harsh reality is that some are even homeless. 

Every person that I have met (seriously) in Denison has welcomed me and has told me how glad they are that I am here. The people are genuine and the Yellow Jacket family is real. Though I know few of my colleagues intimately, they are all in the arena with me--I can tell. 

Speaking of the arena, this became my mantra last year and has stayed my life mantra since--I also think this is a good place to end...for now. 

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." -Theodore Roosevelt

“I want to be in the arena. I want to be brave with my life. And when we make the choice to dare greatly, we sign up to get our asses kicked. We can choose courage or we can choose comfort, but we can’t have both. Not at the same time. Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage. A lot of cheap seats in the arena are filled with people who never venture onto the floor. They just hurl mean-spirited criticisms and put-downs from a safe distance. The problem is, when we stop caring what people think and stop feeling hurt by cruelty, we lose our ability to connect. But when we’re defined by what people think, we lose the courage to be vulnerable. Therefore, we need to be selective about the feedback we let into our lives. For me, if you’re not in the arena getting your ass kicked, I’m not interested in your feedback.” 
― Brené Brown, Rising Strong

"...if you're not in the arena getting your ass kicked, I'm not interested in your feedback." What a great way of telling the haters to shut their mouths.