No One's Moving. And This Nation is Great.

I don't know about you, but I, for one, am ready for this election to be over.

I am tired of the campaign signs in people's yards. I'm tired of those awful ads on TV. I'm tired of every Op-Ed in the paper being dedicated to one candidate or another.

The thing is, this seems to be the general consensus of pretty much every one I know. We're all tired of it. Even my students, who are still years away from voting, are tired of it.

What's sad is that so many people, including myself, have talked about how this year's election looks to be a battle between who is bad and who is worse. It always seems to be a battle between the lesser of two evils, but this year seems especially bad. People are spouting their opinions here and there. And, really, it's just hateful for the most part. (And, as the sage Taylor Swift said, why you gotta be so mean?)

You're stupid if you support Trump. 

There's a special place in hell for women who don't help each other. 

Every single Bernie Sanders supporter is a sexist and a racist. 

Source.

So, pretty much no matter who I vote for, I'm either stupid, a sexist, a racist, or I'm going to end up in hell.

Well that sounds nice.

It seems as though, at this point, America is doomed and going to hell in a hand basket. We're all moving to Canada or Europe. And this nation isn't great.

But do we really feel that way?

I had an experience this weekend that stopped me for a second a really made me think.

I attended my sister Emma's graduation on Saturday. At the beginning of the ceremony, as at the beginning of nearly every official event in the United States, the national anthem was sung.

And do you know what I noticed?

Everyone stood up.

Everyone.

Everyone placed their hand over their heart.

The men took off their hats.

Nearly everyone sang along.

My liberal sister stood next to my old-school Democrat grandmother and behind my ultra-conservative parents.

And we all honored America.

As I looked around I realized that America isn't doomed. We're not going to hell in a hand basket. No one's moving. And this nation is great.

Whether we realize it or not, we all still believe in hope, and we have it for this country. Or else we wouldn't all stand up for the Star-Spangled Banner, beside our brothers from different (and more liberal) mothers, and honor our nation.

I would like to believe that no matter who is president, the United States of America will continue to be a great nation not because of her leadership, but because of the people who love her.

My Girl Jane

It's no secret that I'm a big fan of Jane Austen. I think she told theeeee mosttttt beautifulllll stories of all time. Just beautiful.

Last school year we had a week off of school due to snow, and I hunkered down and lost myself in Austen. This year we didn't have quite that much snow, and I had been missing my friend Jane. I realized it had been far too long since I was lost in Austen.

This past Sunday I went to Mass and brunch with my family for Mother's Day. After brunch I went to the grocery store, and then I went home to make my lunches and set out my outfits for the week. (Don't ask, I'm a nerd.) I scrubbed my living room carpet. (No, really, I used this. It worked pretty well!) Then I looked around and realized I had a final to study for, papers to grade, and lots of other things to do.

But I just couldn't.

Instead, I grabbed my stack of Austen films and buried myself underneath the covers. It was raining, which made it even more perfect.

The minute that first scene of Emma came on, I knew I had made the right decision. (It's also a dangerous one because sometimes I don't like to come back.)

I just can't really explain my love of Austen. Her stories are just so very beautiful. They all have happy endings. My heart swells so much it hurts (HURTS) when Mr. Knightley confesses his feelings to Emma, when Edward arrives at Barton Cottage for Elinor, when Edmund gets over himself and declares his love for Fanny, and, of course, when Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth finally get on the same page.

I laid there admiring Jane Austen and being in awe of the mind that could imagine these beautiful stories.

And then I remembered.

Jane Austen never experienced this kind of love herself.

And that memory took my breath away.

No really.

I literally couldn't move on with my life for a minute because I was just so overwhelmed that the woman who gave the world FITZWILLIAM DARCY was the ultimate single girl.

And then I thought -- who am I to hope that God sends me someone when he let JANE FREAKING AUSTEN be single forever?!

Life is confusing sometimes, isn't it?

No matter what, I know I owe a great deal of thanks to Jane Austen for these overwhelming, painful, beautiful, gut-wrenching stories. The greatest love stories ever.

3,500 Tickets

As a teacher, one of the hardest things is spending hours and hours planning, worrying, and trying to do your best for your students, who generally would rather be anywhere than hearing what you have to say. Pretty much, you worry all the time that you're not doing enough for the kids, that they hate you, and, most importantly, that you're not making a difference. This time of year is especially hard, as the students (and teachers!) are mentally already on summer break.

I've talked before about my love of teaching, but more specifically I've talked about my deep and undying love of my eighth grade students this year. Because I teach at a Catholic school, I teach all three middle school grades, which means my eighth grade students this year were my seventh grade students last year. I am supposed to be the eighth grade homeroom teacher, but because of a staffing issue last year, I ended up being both the seventh and eighth grade homeroom teacher last year. I say all that to say, my eighth grade students this year have been in my homeroom for two years and have been my Language Arts students for two years also. You form a very close bond with your students, and you form an even closer bond with them when you're their teacher for multiple years in a row.

I have said before that this year's eighth grade class is notoriously difficult. The school where I teach starts in preschool, so a lot of these kids have been going to school together for a long time. They have long been labeled as a very difficult class, and, I will admit, they are. The class is 11 boys and two girls. And, as previously stated, they are the raggiest taggiest group of weirdos on earth.

AND. I. LOVE. THEM.

More than words can say.

No, really. I teach English, I know, but when it comes to my love of these kids, I just don't have any words.

And then, they went and did this to me:

They returned to school yesterday after having been gone on a band trip all weekend (including Friday). They showed up to homeroom in their usual colorful way. I took attendance and lunch count as usual. After the announcements, one of my kids (the class clown) comes up to my desk, and he's holding something. It's this sign that says "Rock."

At first I'm like, WHY ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR SEAT?! Then he starts talking.

He said, "Miss Lafferre, see this? We got this on our trip this weekend. It cost us 3,500 tickets and about $70."

And I'm sitting there like -- why did you bring it to school?! I look at the class, and they're all sitting there listening and watching. And I'm just like what is happening?

He told me that the kids in the class pooled all their tickets because they were determined to win this thing.

For me.

Me.

I just sat there.

"We thought that you need something to remember us by, and we thought this would remind you of us."

I'm still just sitting there.

"Also, it's supposed to light up, but we broke it on the way back. But then we thought it's kind of like us -- trying to do something good but messing it up a little bit."

This kid explains that it broke while he was HOLDING IT ON THE BUS on the way back when they got to a bumpy road. However, another kid tells me that the breaking might have happened when first said kid attempted to pack it in his suitcase. :)

I don't even know what to say.

I'm like, "You guys did all this? For me?"

And they're like, "Yeah."

Then this kid goes and puts it on top of a cabinet, the bell rings, and they leave.

And I'm still sitting there like IS THIS MY REAL LIFE?!

Seventh grade comes in for class, and I'm still sitting there looking at this thing.

The seventh grade, having also attended the band trip, started asking me if I liked it.

And I was just like, "I ... just ... can't ... believe ... it."

I was, obviously, in tears. And in shock.

Then, one of the seventh grade girls tells me that one of the eighth grade boys PAID HER $5.00 for some of her tickets because they needed a few more for this thing.

All I could think to say was, "Seventh grade, you guys better get more awesome over the summer because you have BIG shoes to fill."

The sixth grade came later (also on the trip) and wanted to hear me talk about it, and then the fifth grade came at the end of the day, and although they were not on the trip, one of the girls is the little sister of an eighth grade girl, so she knew all about it. I was totally crying as I told the kids the story.

When the eighth grade came back for class, I was just like "Guys. I don't even. I mean I just don't even. I have to tell you guys that what you did is, by far, the nicest thing that has ever happened to me since I started teaching here. In fact, it's the nicest thing that's ever happened to me at any of the jobs I've ever had."

Their response?

"Really? Because that's really sad if that's the nicest thing."

Kids, man. They don't get it.

After school when I was on parking lot duty, I looked at my principal and said, "I have seriously been in tears ALL DAY."

My principal, who had been on the trip, was like "Anna, I wish you had seen them. They were like 'We gotta win this for Miss Lafferre!' They were so into it."

I went back to my desk after school and went through THREE TISSUES because all I could do was sit there, look at my sign, and cry. One of my eighth grade girls sent me an email with a picture she took of a few of the kids right after they had "bought" my present. Obviously I started crying harder. The thing is, the one kid who I feel like I don't have the best relationship with was the kid who was HOLDING the gift in the picture.

I did the only thing I knew how to do, which was write to them. I might teach English, but verbal words fail me sometimes. I'm much better with written words. (I said that to them in their letter.) I wrote them a letter, printed out 13 copies, wrote their names on them, and put them on their desks with candy.

This morning when they started trickling in to homeroom, I stood in the hall right outside the room, instead of standing in the room like I usually do. I watched as they, one by one, picked up their letters and read them. My homeroom has NEVER been that quiet. Not one of them said a word about it, but one of the kids (the original gift bearer) brought his phone into the hallway and was like, "Miss Lafferre, I thought you'd like to see a video of us on the bus ride back."

Um, yeah I did.

And a few more of them came out and crowded around.

And when the video was over, I looked at the phone-holder, and was just like "I need to give you a hug." So I did. And I hugged the other kid out there, too.

The thing is, I worry that I didn't express enough emotion when they first bestowed me with my gift. In fact, I'm so worried that my reaction let them down. But I was truly in such shock I didn't know what to do with my life. I think I'm still in shock.

Tomorrow takes us to 10 days. 10 more days with these precious kids. My favorite kids. They were always my favorites. I have no idea how in the world I will ever, ever make it without them.

Parents of my eighth graders -- you should be so, so, so proud of the kids you are raising.

Teachers and other parents -- 364 days of the year, we feel like we are making no difference whatsoever. But on that 1 day when we know we are, it's life-changing.

I am not the best teacher in the world. There are many, many other teachers at my school that deserve that honor. But at least I think I can hang with the best of them in how much I love them. Because I love them so much that it actually hurts. Sometimes I can't believe that the Lord would bless me so much. I am so undeserving of these kids, but they just keep coming back day after day.

Picking Up the Pieces

The other day I was scrolling through Facebook, when I came across a new post from Humans of New York. I am always interested in what they post, so I took a minute to read it. You can read the original post embedded below, but there was one line of the post that really just stabbed me in the gut when I read it:

"It didn’t feel like we were growing a relationship anymore. It just felt like we were picking up the pieces of decisions we had made."

As I noted in my last post, I haven't been feeling great lately, and, suffice it to say, I'm not growing. There's just always this feeling I have about my life, but I was never able to articulate it before.

Until now.

Sometimes it just feels like all I'm doing is picking up the pieces of decisions I have made.

Sometimes it feels like I'm sitting in the rubble of my life, trying to salvage what I can from the ruins.

And that's a hard feeling to get past.

I share these things here not because I want a pep talk or people to try and compliment me back to reason. I share because ... well, maybe you feel this way, too. When I read this the other day I immediately thought of a friend of mine, and I sent it to her because I thought it would mean something to her, too. I don't want to mention her name in order to protect her privacy, but she said "I feel like that every single day." Maybe you have felt this way before, too? And if you have, know that you're not alone.

This is the kind of thing that Glennon Doyle Melton would call "brutiful" -- beautiful and brutal. Because it's both.

There's no pretty ending to this one. Not today. I'm just sending this one out there to float around in the universe. Until one day, it'll land far away from me, and maybe you, too, and we'll forget what it felt like to feel this way.

How a Pair of Hoop Earrings Changed My Day.

Yesterday evening I went to the 5:30 mass, which is not my usual service. There was an event at Fatima that started at 6:30, so I decided to just go to mass and then the event. Since Friday, I had been feeling really weird. I don't know how to describe it, and I don't know if you've ever felt this way, but I guess the best way for me to describe it is that I felt raw. Like my whole body was an open wound. I was very, very anxious, which is not a new thing for me, but it comes and goes in terms of severity. As I was praying before mass, I prayed that God would help me feel better because I so desperately wanted to enjoy the event after mass as well as the community service event I had signed up to help with today.

I finished praying, put my kneeler up, and sat in the pew, waiting for mass to start.

Not three minutes later, one of my students came bounding over.

Well, she's not just "one of my students" -- she's probably the most cheerful, positive, and optimistic person I have EVER met.

She came over and said, "Miss Lafferre, I was hoping you'd be at this mass!" So I said, "Oh really? Because, you know, I normally go to the 7:30 on Sundays. I'm hardly ever at this mass." Then she said, "I know, me neither! But when I was putting in my earrings tonight I was thinking about you and hoping you'd be at this mass because I wanted to show them to you. Look, hoops!" (She had recently gotten her ears pierced, and these were her first-ever pair of hoops.)

Really?! Really?!?!

Really.

We chatted for a few more minutes, just about her weekend and life and things, and at one point she said, "You know, I thought about my life, and I realized that there is not one thing I don't like about my life!"

That. is. Magic.

The thing is, this girl doesn't have the "perfect" life. Her parents are divorced, and that is tough for any kid. But she just genuinely likes her life. And maybe you want to argue that she's only 12, what does she know, but I can pretty accurately assure you that when I was 12 I could not and would not have said the same thing.

I told her that what she had is truly a gift. A gift that helps other people when she shares it with them. People like me.

After mass, she, her mom, her grandmother, and I walked across the parking lot to the parish hall to take a look at the event set up since all the classes had created artwork to be auctioned off. My student and I just stood there chatting about events and dressing up and things and at one point she said, "Miss Lafferre, will you come and teach at my high school after I leave Fatima?" And I smiled and told her I'd love to, but I can't be in more than one place at a time. So she said, "We should raise money so we can clone you!"

And I told her that was probably the nicest thing that anyone had ever said to me.

It is rare that I say a prayer to God and then have it answered within minutes. But last night, it was.

The event itself was a lot of fun. My friend Sarah came with me, and I got to sit with one of my coworkers/friends and her family. The only thing that made it tough is that I had to talk to and interact with a lot of my students' parents, and I am just so awkward. Give me a roomful of kids, and I'm good. Give me a roomful of adults, and I say and do the weirdest things. Sigh.

**********************

Today I participated in my first-ever Helpington. I had been wanting to do this for a few years but have always had scheduling conflicts. I knew I was scheduled to work with my friends and their kids, but I was showing up to a new church by myself this morning.

And, as previously stated, I had been feeling really anxious this weekend, and those feelings usually make me want to stay home and, essentially, hide. Hide from the world. But I knew I couldn't do that, so I headed to church at 7:30 with the best attitude I could muster.

Before we began our community service, we had a worship service in church. One of the scriptures the pastor shared was Philippians 2:1-5 (The Message version, which I recognized because Amy shares verses from that version a lot!)

If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care— then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.

Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.

I really needed to hear that today. And I tried to follow it.

Helpington turned out to be AWESOME, and I had a great time serving alongside my friends Ryan and Jana and their kids and family. I am so, so glad I went.

This is My New Favorite Thing

I feel all the feelings when I read this.

A Little Story about My Pap

On the way to yoga from school today, it was super sunny out, so I moved my sun visor down. The moment I did, I was reminded of this funny thing my Pap said last time I saw him. (A few weeks ago.) My Pap lives in Morgantown, and he is just the best person. I love him so very much. And he's seriously funny.

See, my Pap doesn't really drive too much anymore, so even though he's had his car a long time, there aren't many miles on it. He keeps it really clean and neat, though. From time to time my Aunt Elizabeth borrows it, and it was on this very topic my Pap was speaking. I can't remember how we got on this conversation, but he ended up saying, "I know she's been putting the sun visor down because it's loose!" Apparently Pap does not ever move the sun visor when he drives. He doesn't like it being loose. (I mean, it's not like driving with the sun in your eyes in any sort of safety concern.)

This cracks me up for the obvious reasons, but mostly it cracks me up because

IT'S ME.

Okay, no, I don't mind moving my sun visor around (see paragraph one -- not that I don't think about it now, though, and worry), but I do other equally as neurotic things. For example, I frequently walk around my classroom when I am teaching, and while I do, I turn the hand sanitizer pump around to face the front, straighten the pencil sharpener, and straighten kids' desks (while they are sitting in them). The students started making fun of me about this months ago and began turning things around on purpose just to annoy me. (Grrr ... haha.)

After hearing Pap talk about the loose sun visor, it made me feel better to know that I come by it honestly.

Pap and me. A long time ago. (Obviously.)