Fear of Writing/Water/Gays - somehow it all ties together

I have had several people say to me recently that they think I am a good writer.  Hm...I want to be a writer.  Well, I am a writer.  But I still don't know if I "feel" like a writer.  It seems a writer would always have something to write about.  It seems a writer wouldn't let the "inside the head editor" erase the entire blog entry they just wrote.  It seems a writer would want to always be writing.  I know, I know, this is not at all true.  It is work.  I have read many biographies and books about writing.  I know you have to make it a habit.  I haven't done that.  I need to do that.

I constantly have thoughts in my head that I think I should write about.  But sometimes when I sit down to write, I freeze.  The editor in my head says "are you sure you want people to read THAT?"  "do you really think people will care about that story?".  And so I delete, and go back to reading.

What do you have in your life that you "really want to do"?  What paths have you not chosen because you are scared, lazy, or just plain tired?  What is the voice in your head telling you?  How do you turn it off?

I was reminded this weekend about the idea of living life out of a place of peace instead of fear.  This is a constant cognizant choice I have to make.  For the first 30 to 35 years of my life I lived in fear.  Fear of what God would do to me.  Fear of the trouble I would get into with teachers/parents/friends.  Fear that I would fail.  Fear that I would get hurt.  Fear that people would laugh at me.  Fear that people would not like me.  So many fears.  But I consciously made a choice to raise my children differently.  Now, they hold that truth up to me to encourage me to live my own life out of peace, like they are.    They are my example of how to put fear out of the equation and plunge forward.

We all have our fears.  Whether it be an innocent fear of the water or homophobia, we all have fears.  What is important, is what will we do with the fear.  Will we allow our fear of water to let us come to the end of our lives having never felt the ocean wash over our feet?   Will we allow our homophobia to continue to make legislation and religious doctrine that take the rights of our neighbors?  Our friends? Our families?

We are at that moment in history where we need to stop.  We need to stop and ask ourselves what is behind our fear.  Do we really think that letting gays marry will in some way ruin our marriage?  Do we really think that these people CHOOSE this life?  Do we really, truly believe, that Jesus finds them an abomination?  Jesus, the man who ate with the vilest most hated people of society?  Jesus, the man who taught that the lowest shall be the highest?  Jesus, the man who taught us to love our neighbor as ourselves?  This Jesus would applaud us teaching and preaching hate against GLBT people?  Really? So, stop.  Really, stop.  Ask yourself why you are scared.  See if there is really any basis in it.  If you are using the Bible, stop.  Really look into that Bible you take so literally, there are many things in there that I bet you aren't doing...like owning slaves, having many wives and concubines, killing your child if they are born with something not quite right, etc.  So, stop.

As you ask yourself, "Why am I afraid of water?" or "Why am I homophobic?" I will be over here asking myself, "What am I afraid of if I write a novel?"

It is never too late to rid our lives of fear.

You are loved!

In the past few days I have been confronted with other people's pain; one a stranger, another a friend.  Both are women who have lost their way.  Both are suffering financially.  Both feel utterly alone in this world even though they have friends and children who love them dearly.  The pain is palpable.  It vibrates off both women with virtual SOS signs popping all around them.  The sadness and despair is so deep I felt drawn to the edge with them.  One I listened to while standing in a thrift store, and then talked to on the phone the next day.  The other was beyond my help.

Now I sit with this pain and know not what to do with it.  It presses on my heart and causes tears to spontaneously fall.   The unanswerable questions flow through my mind.  They do no good.  I can't "fix" either of them.  All I can do is be present and listen.  I can be open so that others, strangers in thrift stores, feel the safe harbor.  I can be at the other end of the phone.  I can remind my friends and loved ones that they are loved.

So please know, that if you are reading this, you must have a special place in my heart.  Know that there is someone in this world who cares.  Know that you are loved.

Becoming a Teacher Part Three

The notebooks stacked, the erasers piled in bins, the array of pens all signal one thing, the BEGINNING OF SCHOOL!   My fifth year finds me in yet another small country town, McGregor.  We had moved to Waco, TX, for my husband to pursue a Ph.D. at Baylor.  I couldn't find work in Waco, so had to start looking outside in the smaller ISDs.  Driving 30 minutes each way, was not my idea of a good school year, but the principal, Mrs. Holbrook, caught my attention.  I had yet to meet a principal who embraced Whole Language and my philosophy of teaching.  I was excited to see what could happen when the administration backed you!

This was another first for me, I was teaching a self-contained, gifted and talented third grade class.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into.  These kids were smart!  I mean, SMART!  No one was below grade level in any area.  But with this, came a new challenge, how do I challenge these kids and motivate them to do even better?  I enjoyed the challenge and fell in love with these students.  With the exception of a couple, most of these kids had no idea how smart they were, they were just kids.  With the exception of a couple, most of the parents recognized that their kids were not geniuses, just above the curve.  The exceptions almost killed me at times, but I learned a new skill, dealing with obnoxious parents.  Unfortunately, Mrs. Holbrook, had failed to mention that her staff was not too keen on her views on Whole Language.  She had filled all 10 of the empty positions with "outsiders" who held her same philosophy.  We were therefore, lumped in with her and disliked by most.  Not all, there were some "insiders" who liked us and adhered to the same philosophy.  By Christmas, the staff had won, and Mrs. Holbrook resigned.  I was stunned and a bit afraid for my future.  The next semester ended up having an all-time high, and all-time low.  Having succeeded in ousting the principal, the staff decided to focus in on getting the "outsiders" out as well.  They made our lives miserable.  The only time I was happy that second semester was when I was in my classroom with my kids.  The most unfortunate thing was that the students became aware of the bullying.  I tried my best to hide my hurt from them even as I was being yelled at in front of them.  But kids who are in your classroom know you.  They could read my feelings better than me!  Plus, they felt protective of me for another reason.  I was pregnant!  Jack and I had been trying for two and a half years, and that Valentine's Day I found out!  So, as I said that was the best and worst semester of my career.

As it turned out, all but one of the newly hired teachers resigned that year.  None of us had other positions, but we could not return to that nightmare.  It was unfortunate.  I learned a lot that year.  I also made a lasting friend in Mary Witte.  I taught her son, Cameron.  She was the second grade Gifted and Talented teacher and she taught me a lot about thinking and researching and stretching students' minds.  In fact, years later, she came to see me in DC and I got to spend some time remembering the good parts of that year.

One of the things I learned that year was how much a child's early years affect their growth.  These kids I had in McGregor had been loved, read to and cared for.  Their minds were open books ready to learn whatever I put in front of them.  What a difference from my previous experiences.

Becoming a Teacher, Part Two

The next two years of teaching brought about a change in scenery.  We moved to the country outside of a small farming town, Krum, TX.  My role here was not only elementary teacher, but pastor's wife as well.  This was our first "live-in" position.  I had no idea what was in store for me as I stepped into that classroom the first day.

Whereas in Ft. Worth, it was important to be a strong disciplinarian, in Krum, these kids felt like they had gotten a Marine Sergeant.  I was used to pre-empting fights by having strict straight lines when walking the halls.  I was used to "nipping" things in the bud!  It finally took a little chat with my principal to realize that these kids were not hiding weapons, or just waiting to "jump" each other.  In fact, most of these kids were related somehow or knew each other since birth.  I could relax and not be quite so"wound tight" I believe were his words.  So, I ventured forth into a new realm of teaching.

Without energy being expended on discipline, I found more time to focus on creativity.  Although I found this fun and rewarding, there was something missing.  I was bored.  So the next year when a challenge presented itself, I grabbed it!  I would be teaching a blind student who had an assistant who would be in my class part time and I would have to have all lessons and papers ready two weeks in advance to be Brailled.  Moreover, whenever this child had a seizure, everything she had learned would be erased and we would have to start over.  Lastly, she was spoiled.  She was the baby in her family by 15 years and the world pretty much revolved around her.

This second year also offered another challenge.  I would have a child in my classroom with whom I was friends with her mother.  I had never had this happen, and was worried about it.  But the child had cystic fibrosis and missed a lot of school.  Since I lived out there near her, I could tutor her after school.  It took me longer than Amber to acclimate.  She did slip a few times and called me "KaKi" but no one seemed to care since many of them had had teachers they knew or were related to!

Both of these challenges would not even come close to the challenge that came that second year for me. I adjusted to Nicolette, I became much more organized which would be beneficial in the future.  I enjoyed having the assistant and learned how to co-teach which would also prove to be a plus for my future.  Having Amber turned out to be a true joy!  She was my biggest cheerleader!  Her hugs meant a lot to me that year.

But the biggest challenge came on New Year's Day.  Shane Howard, a shy, sweet boy from my class, died.  He had fallen into an icy pond before Christmas, and before I could get to the hospital, he had died.  There is no class in college to prepare you for this.  How do you deal with your own grief?  How do you tell 18 nine year olds that their classmate has died?  How do you deal with the media?  How do you deal with nine-year olds' grief?  How do you do all of this alone because your district is too small to have counselors?  I don't know.  Basically you take one minute at a time.  One day at a time.  You make mistakes, and you apologize and you keep taking steps.  

Telling my class went much smoother than I would have ever imagined.   They took it in stride.  No tears, no anything!  But, what I didn't know is that grief for kids comes out physically.  So, I sent my kids out to recess and that is when the grief showed itself.  Other students started saying that they were glad that Shane had died because he teased them.  Suddenly these calm, kind kids turned violent!  They started chasing and hitting.  When I brought them back inside the tears and emotions began to pour out. It was overwhelming.  Into my lap they poured their sorrow and grief.  I gathered them all into my arms and hugged and wiped tears and before we knew it, it was lunch.  We got our lunches and came back into the classroom, they couldn't stand the thought of being apart.  We ate and talked.  After lunch, we read a book about dying and talked some more.  They decided that they couldn't stand the thought of moving his desk, so they memorialized it.  They also decided to take up money to buy books for their library in his memory.  It was an amazing thing to be part of.  Kids have such resilient hearts.  Kids have such love.  I learned a lot from those kids about grief, friendship and love.

I learned many lessons from those country kids.  I learned that all kids want to be loved, respected and listened to, no matter their circumstances.  I learned that all kids crave boundaries and the chance to show they are responsible.  I learned that all kids love to be read to by their teacher, even if they have a mom at home who reads to them.  I learned to relax and trust my kids and myself.  But the greatest gift came from Shane.  I learned to appreciate life.  I learned to live in the present.  I learned to hug my kids often and tell them I loved them and how proud of them I was, no matter how they might seem to not like it! 

Thank you, Krum.  Thank you kids for loving me and taking this strange, outsider in and loving me.  Thank you for all the lessons that have helped me become who I am today.

I came to realize from that two year period, that my true passion lay in teaching inner-city students.  I realized I must use my gifts where they were most needed.  I would only be truly happy when teaching in the inner-city.  For that, I am eternally grateful.

Let's see we have lived here in Krum two years, so it must be time for a move!  Stay tuned to part 3 to see where we go next.

Becoming a Teacher, Part One

I grew up thinking I would be a teacher.  I loved kids, I seemed to be good with them, and that is what my mom did.  Then as I got older, I wanted to do MORE.  I wanted to make more money and have more prestige. While in college, I didn't enjoy my first year of classes.  I was discouraged because I wasn't doing well in the classes that prepared me for these other careers.  Then, my second year, I was asked a simple question.  "What brings you joy?"  Immediately I said,  "working with children".  I went and changed my major and never looked back!











I did my student teaching in an upper-middle class neighborhood school.  It was unique because it was an open-concept school.  I guess that is when my interest in finding "other" ways to educate was sparked.

Then we moved to Ft Worth and I applied all over the city.  I don't think then I even knew what "inner-city" meant.  I was hired, and started at a school that was on the edge of an established neighborhood and the projects.  I walked into that first classroom and had no idea what I was doing.  Luckily Cheryl Wisch was right next door.  She shaped me more than any professor I ever had.  I learned more from her that first year than all the years after!  The very first day I had completed the whole day's lesson plan by 10:00 a.m.!  Yes, I had a lot to learn!

 I was a naive white girl from an upper-middle class home walking into a classroom where the 7 year olds were smarter than me, street-wise.  I was overwhelmed and distraught. But, somewhere within me, I found a way to connect to those kids.  They responded to me in a miraculous way.  I mean, we had NOTHING in common.  Absolutely nothing.  I couldn't imagine their lives any more than they could imagine mine.  How does that happen?  Over time, I gradually had to admit, it was a gift.  God gave me a gift to relate to those little ones no matter the differences.  I was given the gift to see inside those kids, past the walls around their hearts to their real selves.  They inspired me to work harder, try more, and to never give up on them.

My second year of teaching, I saw the neighborhood deserted and my classroom become a revolving door.  I started the year with 22 children and I ended the year with 22 children.  But only 4 children had been with me the entire year.  FOUR!  I watched as children held up their shirts and showed me the blood from being whipped by extension cords.   I cried as I called social services time and time again.  I watched as children were taken from their homes.  I waited for children who never showed up again because their families had skipped out in the night.  I endured being cussed out by parents because I had taken their child's dinner money, two quarters.  I sat with children left out in the cold on the last day before Thanksgiving, being forgotten by a mother who was working a double shift at the strip club.  I accepted the gift of cat's collar still warm from the body of the cat.  "Hear that beautiful sound, Ms. Mckenzie?"  I listened and cried as that huge smile beamed while the hand shook the bell attached to the collar.  Okay, and I chuckled cause they never did get my name right!!  :-)   I watched, I changed, I wept.

So, I opened my heart and was forever changed....and that was just the first two years.

to be continued

A Miracle

A miracle occurred last night.  And it couldn't have come at a better time.  I have been discouraged, tired of being sick, and needing something.  This miracle lifted my heart to new heights.

It starts with a secret.  I had a favorite student.  I know, I know, as a teacher you are NEVER supposed to have a pet.  And I never let it show, mainly because sometimes she could REALLY try my patience.  But in 1993, this little girl came into my classroom at 6 years old and promptly crawled up into my heart and never left.  This little girl was scared, feisty, and had a little light in her eyes that no one had ever seen or nurtured.  What she knew was fighting.  That was the only way she got things, I think.  She came from a rather large family and was a twin.  You know she had to be feisty to make herself heard.  What I saw in her though, was not a bad child, but a child who simply didn't know another way.  This had worked for her.  Fighting got her what she needed, so why try another way?  Yes, all of this at 6 years of age.  So I took her in my heart and got to keep her in first grade, second grade, and third grade.  I had the privilege to watch this young girl learn other ways to get what she wanted.  Now, she still fought, because in her neighborhood, I think she had to.  (I didn't quite understand that then, but I do now.)  And beneath that tough girl exterior was a loving little girl.  And smart!  Wow, once she stopped fighting me, she learned FAST!!!  To be honest that was the true miracle.  She was amazing.  When Jack got a job in Maryland, I was crushed.  Yes, I had a great reputation in Waco that I didn't want to leave.  I had worked hard for that.  But I didn't want to leave this little girl.  I felt like I was abandoning her like others in her life had done.  What message would that send this little girl that I adored?  This was before computers and cell phones.  This 9 year old was not going to write me letters and send them in the mail, so how would I keep letting her know that I was there?  How would I communicate encouragement to her if I was not near?  I was crushed.  To be honest, I think I went into a depression over this.  Of course, the big move, having 2 small children, living in a different culture (DC is a different culture, believe me), and the huge shift in our family life all contributed.  But I think the start was feeling like I abandoned this little girl.

So, I held her in my heart.  I kept up with her the only way I could, in my heart.  I thought about her as she started 4th grade, 5th grade, 6th grade, etc.  I sent good thoughts to her.  I encouraged her to not give up.  To keep trying even though she might be discouraged.  I prayed her fighting would not get her into too much trouble.  I prayed nothing untoward would come to her.  Then I started helping other girls here in NC.  I felt by helping them, I was helping her wherever she was.  I kept up with one young girl who reminded me a bit of the TX girl.  She had the same fight and sparkle in her eyes.  But she moved away and I lost her too.

Leaving teaching was the hardest thing I have done.  But leaving Shamika was harder.  Now though, the universe has sent me a miracle.  I found her.  I found her on facebook.  She is alive.   Oh she looks good.  She remembers me.  She is graduating this weekend.  She looks happy.  I am so excited to catch up with her. I want to know how much she had to fight to get to where she is.  I want to know if she felt me in her heart.  I want to know that she has found love.  I am so excited.

So the secret is out.  In my heart are really 3 children, Stephen, Allie and Shamika.  She has been there all these years, and will stay there till the end.  Now I get to welcome her home.  I wish I could be there this weekend, Shamika, to watch you graduate.  I would hoot and holler louder than anyone.  I would gather you in my arms and hug you tight.  I would kiss your cheek and tell you how proud of you I am.  I would beam.  So girl, feel that.  Hear me as you cross the stage, feel my hug, feel my kiss, and hear my words.........

I AM PROUD OF YOU!!
LOVE,  MRS. MCKINNEY

Sister's Wives

Yes, I am openly admitting that I watch this show on TLC.  I began watching out of curiosity.  My only image of polygamists was of the ultra conservatives.  The long hair, old-timey dresses, marrying 13 year old girls to much older men, etc. But this show seem to show something else.

Cody is the husband.  He is in his late 30's, early 40's?  His first wife, and only legally wedded wife is Merrie.  Merrie was brought up in a family of polygamists, and always knew she wanted to have that same type family.  In fact, several years later, Merrie introduced Janelle to Cody and she became his 2nd wife.  All the women are close in age, all around Cody's age.  The Christina came along to make wife no. 3.  They have several children among the three women.  Christina stays at home and Janelle, Cody, and Merrie all work outside the home.  They own a home that has 3 separate apartments.  So each wife has their own kitchen and living area.  When the show begins airing, Cody has fallen in love for the fourth time.  He eventually marries Robin.  All of these women were 21 years of age when they chose to marry Cody.  They were well aware of the other wives, there were no tricks.  Each wife chose this lifestyle.  But, it is against the law in Utah, where it is probably more prominent.  A couple of the wives have memories of their families being split up because their fathers were arrested.  You might be asking why on earth would they go on National TV?   Well, they thought people had changed.  And as people may have changed, the law has not.  So the State Prosecutor has instigated an investigation into their case.

The whole time I watch this show, I think about how I feel about this.  It is not the lifestyle for me.  I think it is wrong no matter your religious beliefs to marry a minor child and have sex with them.  But, what about 2, 3, or 4 consenting adults?  What about this family who is paying their way, paying taxes, raising normal, healthy children?  They are practicing their religion.  They don't want to try to change other people.  They simply want religious freedom to live "family" they way they define it.

So, should government interfere in their personal lives, as long as they are all consenting adults?  Is having one daddy, and 3 mommies detrimental to the children?  All these thoughts are swirling in my head today as I watched the finale.

What are your thoughts?