Not on my lesson plan...

Most days of teaching I follow a pretty well thought out plan for the day (haha, um...how about I just say "thought out"...well thought out is stretching it some days!!) But,  I spend my time thinking about how to best reach the 26 little ones entrusted to me in the time that I have.  It's a very predictable schedule...which, for 9 year olds, helps keep things in our class running smoothly.

Today, however, I taught a lesson that  I didn't plan and didn't have written down anywhere.  I'm talking about the toughest kind...the BIG life lessons that we all remember learning along the way....and I spoke some TRUTH up into 3 children who needed to learn a hard lesson.

I have one beautiful girl in my class that already has body issues as a 10 year old because she is not the average size of other girls in my class.  She is many many things--a talented singer, and wonderful writer, and a thoughtful friend to others in our class--and I get very protective over anyone who makes my children in my class feel less than worthwhile.  So you can imagine my shock when 3 members of our class were making a joke and referencing her name.  We got T-Shirt order forms for Field Day and someone made the comment "Ohhh, she needs to get an XL size!"  I was not within earshot of this conversation and THANKFULLY neither was this sweet angel (who they were talking about)...but I have honest students who came told me immediately what had just happened. As I looked to the clock and noticed that there were only 6 minutes left before the bell rang...I snapped into a role I don't often play--disciplinarian.

I had 3 little terrified faces come over, almost like they knew what was coming, and I let them explain themselves.  It's amazing how quickly a story changes when you are put on the spot and know you are in trouble--unfortunately for them, I was the QUEEN of changing a story to make it sound better and I know a lot of the tricks.  Blaming someone else, saying people misunderstood...classic moves.  But I heard them out...then brought about 3 minutes of the most important thing they would have learned today....how to treat others.   I preached a little to them--saying God made everyone different and there is NO WAY we are able to pick on someone different than us because we're all different.  I told them that words about body image stick with people for life...and that people even cry at night when others say hurtful things about their bodies.  I explained that people who tear others down with their words are not the kind of people that they are--and that I expect more from them.  I honestly got a little teary-eyed and shared with them that I have even gone through really hurtful times when people have picked on my appearance.  I said that words stick with people for life, and that they need to be careful not to negatively impact someone else's life.  Like I mentioned, I spoke some gospel up into their lives.  Character is more important to me than cursive...let's learn how to be humans in 4th grade.  Let's take the time to figure out how we can be better members of society one day.

I wanted them to walk out the door not remembering fractions, the Revolutionary War, or circuit building from our lessons today--but hopefully thinking long and hard about what they had just done by only using their words.  Upon reflection, I remember the times in life very clearly that I learned these lessons.  This conversation reminded me of how fragile people can be when torn down with words, and made me acutely sensitive to their little spirits.

What a big responsibility this job of teaching is--my babies are growing up and need to have a foundation of strong character as well as learn things in the math book.  It's my ultimate goal at the end of the day....and it was practiced today and occurred in a moment that was unplanned, but ended up being sweet and beautiful.

(Mis)Adventures in Dating

Dear friends,

This post is dedicated to my most recent (mis) adventures in dating...well...lack thereof. You'll see why in a moment if you don't already follow me on Twitter ...

Let's begin at...well...the beginning.  I am a very socially awkward person. I have been for a while.  Some of you are saying "TRUTH!" and some of you don't know me like that...but trust me...I'm mostly awkward in my life. This is not a problem normally because I have learned to adapt in a variety of situations.  Much thanks to my parents for putting me in leadership camps and sports my whole life so I could learn to interact with people, learn to carry on a conversation, work with others and most importantly--learn when to stop talking after I've made things more weird.

This coping mechanism I have developed along the way has not been easy.  Many, many uncomfortable moments have been had.  The only way I learn is by making mistakes, though, so there is always an initial REALLY (painfully) unfortunate moment and then I learn how I should react the next time.  But....thanks to my mostly "vanilla" lifestyle--where I don't put myself in that many "brand new" situations by this point in my life--I have gotten away with not making as many awkward things happen in my adult life.

Which brings us to this current post.  I've been making a more conscious effort to step outside of the norm lately.  Be it the new year, or me realizing that I feel stuck in a rut, or whatever...but I have been stretching myself a little more than I have in the past.  I think that's the only way to truly grow. But man, it's been uncomfortable.

There were 3 weekends in a row that I went out every night to a different place downtown. I was trying new things and being around different people.  I saw people that I hadn't seen in a while, reconnected with some friends, and had strange conversations with new guys.  These conversations started fairly normal--where'd you go to undergrad, how did you get to Columbia, the usual.  Then, about 5 minutes into the conversation...it's just like I ran out of things to say. I should rephrase that.  I had PLENTY of things to say.  Just none of them would be socially acceptable to yell out into a crowded bar when you first meet someone.  For example, here is a transcript (almost verbatim) of this one dude's conversation with me:

Dude: Hey, just wanted to come introduce myself.  I saw you from across the bar. That's it, no line. Just wanted to come say hi.  (fairly normal, honest way to say hello)

Me: Hey, I'm Kathryn.  Do you live here in Columbia?

Dude: No, I actually graduated from Chapel Hill. The "Real Carolina"..but I live in another part of NC now.

Me: (insert joke about the "real Carolina" thing) I have a lot of friends that went to UNC! It's beautiful there.

Dude: So what do you do?

Me: I'm a teacher, I teach 4th grade. What about you?

Dude: That's awesome.  I actually went to pharmacy school and work at CVS now.

****here's where the whole back and forth, complimenting and feeding off comments gets weirdddddd****

Me: Really? Cool. (silence for about 10 seconds while the band blares in the background)  You know...I actually went to CVS this week.  I'm on antibiotics!

This would be the moment in a movie where the whole crowd is silent and you are the only one screaming out loud. Except, thankfully, that didn't happen.

The sweet guy continued to talk to me and we had very interesting (and somewhat ridiculous) witty banter back and forth for a few minutes, we danced a while, we had a drink....until...my weirdness took over.  We were dancing and I stopped the booty-dancing that he was trying to make happen and said out:

"SOMETIMES...I JUST WANT TO AIR GUITAR!" and inserted an air guitar motion as I proceeded to rock out to an air guitar.

Yeahhhhhhhh. Trainwreck. That's what happened from that moment forward. If I were watching this on TV I would be saying "No, no, no, NO NO NOOOO don't do it. You were doing so well!"

Things that I have learned from this? Well, for one... learning things about someone brand new (like I would do in a normal situation) become harder with a band and 50 people crowding around. So, skip the small talk and just enjoy dancing..NORMALLY..if the situation is right.  And another thing...perhaps unleashing all of my craziness at once is a little intense.  My true friends do think I'm a nut.  They do think I say awkward and strange things, but they know the heart behind it.  Strangers don't.  So rocking out to a fake air guitar might not be the smoothest way to attract a guy.

But you want to know the most important thing I learned that night?  I learned that I WANT a guy to not look at me and be thrown off by that...but to jump in, join me and rock out, too.  Or to pick up fake drumsticks and do some work on a fake drumset.  At this point, I'd settle for a tambourine or a harmonica.  Just..I want someone to enjoy not taking themselves too seriously.  And if that means I have to have misadventures in meeting guys, then I'll do it to find the right one.  Thankfully for me, the Lord has a good and perfect plan that I cannot see. But I guarantee one thing---there will be sweet music.

Potty Training and Disney.

When I was going through potty training, I was motivated under false advertisement.

One of the motivational tools my parents used was getting down on my level, looking me in the eyes and saying "When you get potty trained, we'll take you to Disney World!"

Somewhere deep down inside me this phrase must have made an impression, because this memory was triggered years later as my friends began sharing about their Disney experiences.  I asked my mom multiple times why we had not gone, and then one day she told the story of how they coaxed me into potty training.

This had become the run-on family joke for years when we got together--anytime we discussed Disney trips in my teenage years someone would always throw out the "We have to wait until Kathryn is potty trained" joke. Ha. Ha. Ha. It would be funny, except for the fact that we kept reusing that joke over and over and I HAD STILL NOT GONE TO DISNEY! Fail.

When I brought up the fact that I had, indeed, mastered the skill of using the facilities whenever I felt the urge, my parents and I could never find a suitable time to go.  Either I had soccer or cheerleading, or we were travelling for my brother's baseball games all summer, or my dad had to coach at some point.... and all this leads to me being a 24 year old fully functional toilet user who has yet to step foot in the happiest place on Earth.

My parents have gotten off the hook a little bit by sending me on Teens Westward Bound the summer after my Junior year of high school (where one day is spent in Anaheim, CA at DisneyLAND) but there are times when I still ask "So, when are we going to Disney World???"

All this leads up to me being able to say: WE ARE GOING TO DISNEY! This Spring Break, they are planning a 3 night, 4 day trip to Orlando where we will split our time between Disney World and Harry Potter World. And you want to know the FIRST thing I plan on doing upon entrance to the gates of this magical place? Find a restroom and prove once and for all that I am, indeed, a potty trained adult. Then...I'll go play all day like a child.

(photo cred: Google Images)

Jimdaddy

If you know me at all, you know how big of a role Camp Greystone  plays in my life.

Being an "outsider" and never having attended as a camper, I was worried that I would walk into my first summer and feel like I did not belong.  I had fears of everyone already knowing everyone else, and I had no clue what to expect.  Sort of like Day One of recruitment at USC... when they swing open the doors to the house and hundreds of girls are bouncing and screaming songs at you.  Except, in this situation, I was stuck at camp for 9 more weeks and had no way of dropping out of it.

One of the first things I was impressed with at camp was how everyone seemed so much like a family.  I noticed this primarily in the other counselors who had obviously been at camp for years (insert high pitched screams and hugs) and saw that everyone talked with such high regards for this place.  I later learned that part of the spirit that helps make it feel like a "big family" is that Camp is owned and operated by the same family that opened it in 1920.

The patriarch of the family was Jim "Jimdaddy" Miller and for all 4 years that I was in college working on staff, his presence was a staple of every morning through "Breakfast Club."  It always began with the same song:

"When the bell rings out, clap up your hands and shout, it's gonna be a GREAT DAY! Campers set your goals, jump up and play your roles, it's gonna be a great day. Breakfast Club awaaaaaaaits us, to tell the stooooooorrrryyy we love to hear (WE LOVE IT!) Winners we will be, attitude is the key, Greystone will have a great day! HOR-RAY!"

I can still hear his voice saying "Good morning breakfast clubbers!" (Our response: "Good morning, Jim") "I would like to know what kind of day are YOU having?" (Our response: A GREAT day!) "And how do you feel?" (Our response: Terrrrrrrrrrrific!) "I too feel terrific..."

Other than breakfast clubs, Jimdaddy would make his way through camp most mornings greeting campers and counselors alike with a joke or calling them by name.  Jimdaddy was all about the personal touches, and was especially amazing at making you feel like you were the only person at camp.

I will most remember Jimdaddy for the advice and encouragement he gave me the summer after I graduated college.  I came to camp for that 4th summer on staff having gone on two job interviews and getting two rejections.  While I had faith that I would find the right job for me, and knew that CAMP was where I was supposed to be at that time, I had some serious stress thinking about not having a job lined up post-graduation.  Thankfully, Laura, Kelly and Jimboy (my incredible bosses) allowed me the freedom that June Camp to pursue interviews as they came my way.  One morning I received a call that I would be interviewing the next day, and I immediately knew that I had to make time to sit with Jimdaddy and get some advice.  He was an accomplished business man who knew how to treat people and how to set yourself apart.  When I found him and asked for his time, he did not hesitate to stop what he was doing that morning and spend as long as I needed giving advice and helping offer words of encouragement.  He said to me "look them in the eyes and say that you are different from the rest because you will work harder and longer.  You don't have to know the answers to all their questions, but be honest and tell them that you are willing to learn everything and more that they ask of you. And if you don't get the job, learn from that.  Take every opportunity you are given to learn something." (that's a paraphrase, and what I have written in my journal from that summer)

Among other things, his guidance in breakfast clubs and through that conversation helped to give me the confidence to pursue my passions and not give up after, what turned out to be, 6 total job interviews that summer.

When we had the staff retreat in January that winter, I wish I would have known that the conversation I had with Jimdaddy would become the last.  I remember it like it was yesterday:  It was Sunday morning and we were having breakfast down in the Grey (including some things Rob Brown had killed and stuffed in a casing) , and Jimdaddy came to do one last Breakfast Club.  He gave us a mid-year check up and reminded us to focus on the goodness of God while we are away from camp.  He reminded us of the backbone of camp and the foundations that we have instilled in us that will carry us through our lives.  Then he did a trial-run on a joke that he planned to use the next summer. I have it written down somewhere...it was about a man and his wife (Mr. and Mrs. Hill) who got in an accident and perished. I don't remember all of the very "Jimdaddy"-like details that can only make a joke so special, but the punchline was something like"The hills are alive with the sound of music.." when the couple began to stir after hearing a particular song.

After his joke, he came over and asked me about my job, how my students were, how my colleagues were, and more details that showed just how much he truly cared about people.  I will never forget how special that was, for him to remember me that morning, and I am forever grateful for his guidance and wisdom that I received so freely the 4 years I knew him.

This post will not mean much to people not involved in the camp bubble, but I am CERTAIN that every person who is a Greystone girl (or Greystone guy) could fill pages with their own Jimdaddy stories.

I still badly miss the corny jokes, the 4 fold plan each week of Main Camp, snap-crackle-and pop as I got ready to do Stumblers, his bow ties, the suspenders, his straw hat, how excited Buz/Woody were when he pointed at their table for the "how do YOU feel" part of BC, his positive attitude, and his little sayings that have become a part of my personal mantra since I have left the gates of camp.

This blog post is incredibly too short to adequately express my true admiration for a man that  shaped my life so much in such little interaction with him, but I did want to reflect on his life on the anniversary of his passing.

So as I'm ending this post, I'll leave with the signature final Breakfast Club ending:

"As you go through life, whatever may be your goal, keep your eye upon the doughnut, and not upon the hole"

You are missed by so many, Jimdaddy.

Laughter is the best medicine.

I am a firm believer in laughter.


Good jokes, awkward moments, funny things my students say, and...hours of Modern Family while stuck in bed sick.  Thankful that Santa brought me the entire second season because I have put it to use the past few days while stuck in bed.  I have laughed out loud so many times. No matter how many times I have seen certain episodes, I still giggle at the side comments and witty banter between the characters.


I am not good at being sick.  Maybe I would be better at it if I were not secluded from civilization by being quarantined in my apartment (self-inflicted). But, while I am snuggled up in bed doped up on medicine, I have had a wonderful time laughing at the hilarity that is Modern Family.


It truly IS the best medicine.

Whooooaaa, we're halfway there.

Halfway to the summertime!!!!

The 2nd 9-weeks is coming to an end, and it's time to reflect.

I started a new grade level this year, which is just like being a 1st year teacher again...except, when I was a first year teacher I didn't have as much knowledge about what I was supposed to be doing.  Now, I know where I SHOULD be with my students because I have the experience of a 3rd year teacher... and it's shocking to me how far away I am from where I'd like to be.  The crazy thing is, I have been working hard this school year to do what was right....so frustrating.  But, I keep reminding myself that I felt this way my first year teaching when I was in 3rd grade, and the second year of teaching it was much easier.  Holding to that promise.

I have been BEYOND blessed this year in school. Mainly, with my hilarious class...but also with the people I work with and the fact that I got to stay at my same school instead of being moved in May.  My mom has always said that teaching 4th graders was always her favorite, and I started this school year not knowing anything about 4th grade other than that.

My class this year has 25 students. Yep, twenty-five 10 year olds depending on me for everything 8 hours a day.  Let that sink in.  Daunting.  I love them all in so many ways because they all amaze me with some of the thoughtful, witty, outrageous things they come up with and comments they say.  There are tough times (for both of us) but it just...works. We have a little family. It's the jam.  They slip up and call me "mommy" often (I still flinch at this), they give me hugs, they talk back to me like they would their parents sometimes, and they love me.  And I love them.

I still can't get over the fact that I get to live my dream job every day!

The week I was born...

Someone posted on Facebook "Find the #1 song of the week you were born and post."  I  thought that was a funny concept, but immediately thought "There's NO way I'll even know the #1 song from my birth week"...


...then I looked it up, thanks to Google, and found out that it was "Lean on Me" by Club Nouveau (I don't think I've actually ever known the group name who sings this song before today). This is a classic! Nice job, March, on choosing your chart toppers.


This was a #1 single for 2 weeks, including the week of March 16, 1987...so here is the YouTube video for your enjoyment. Throwback.