Confessions of a High School English Teacher

1. I love my job, and I love my students.  I know that no matter what is going on in my life, when I greet each of my students at the door, it is simply impossible for me not to smile.  They bring me joy each and every day, and they are the reason that I teach.
   
   
2. A piece of my heart belongs to my students.  Some days, I come home in tears because I know the struggles that some of my students have to go through.  But more days than not, I come home bursting with energy because of the interactions I had with my students that day.
   
   
3. I take the privilege of sharing literature with my students seriously.  As I teach junior and senior English, I could be the last person to impress a love of words upon them, so I had better make their experience a good one.
   
   
4. I love being called “Mrs. Vriend,” whether it’s being yelled down the hallway or tacked on to a quiet “thank you” at the end of class.  I love the person I become when I step into my classroom, as I am this person nowhere else.  I am a teacher, a leader, a mentor, a listener, a guide.
   
   
5. I may teach a lot of classics, but in every free moment I have, it is commercial fiction that holds my heart.  Give me the gravy-eating cowboys like Brady Stoner, give me a tear-jerking Nicholas Sparks love story, and give me the coffee-addicted characters of Erynn Mangum.  That is the literature I fell in love with.
   
   
6. I share my life with my students.  They have to share their thoughts and stories with me, so it is only fair that I have to share mine with them.  So my students know that I am a horrific speller.  They know that I don’t eat any fruit.  They know how I met my husband.  They know that I am scared of jello.  Because I know that if I trust them with this information, they will trust me back.
   
   
7. My day does not end when I leave school at 3:30.  Usually, I still have several hours of work ahead of me every evening.  And my Saturdays quickly fill up with essay grading and lesson planning.  I am prone to complain about this on occasion, but I also know that I am helping my students to grow and learn.  If I don’t devote hours to grading their essays, their writing is never going to get better.  So I do this for them because I love them.
   
   
8. My classroom has a chocolate tax, which several of my students have discovered.  If you enter my classroom with chocolate, you are required to share some with me, the chocolate tax enforcer.  This has become one of my favorite rules.
   
   
9. When I am not doing school work or reading books, I do regular activities, despite what some of my students seem to think.  “Do you watch movies, Mrs. Vriend?” they have inquired.  Yes, I watch movies.  I am far more normal than they seem to think.
   
   
10. With all of my heart, I want my students to succeed.  I want them to learn.  All of that scary red writing on your paper?  It’s there because I love you and want you to learn from your mistakes.  I have high expectations because I know that you can meet them.  We can do it together.

Blackout Poem

A Challenge to See

I tell my students,

“Go, stand on top of my desk.”

“What do you see?”

We go outside.

“Bend over.

View the world from upside down.”

“What do you see?”

They stand in a bent row,

Looking at trees, farms, flowers, grass

All upside down.

“What do you see?”

Trees gripping the earth fiercely with their roots,

So that they do not fall away

And float off into space

Past Saturn and Pluto.

“What do you see?”

Dew clinging to the grass,

Working its way up to the earth.

“What do you see?”

Daffodils hanging from the dirt ceiling,

Like a hundred suns strung up and tied with bows.

“What do you see?”

The rows of orchard trees,

Hanging close to the ground,

Or maybe it’s the sky…

Everything’s a little confused

In this upside down world.

“What do you see?”

It takes time, thought, effort

To really see.

To see the world

As the unique and beautiful masterpiece

That God created it to be.

So take a moment and look.

Really look.

“What do you see?”

If I Were a Book Character...

Have you ever read a book and realized that you were the main character? 

This should not be confused with imagining yourself as the main character.  If that were the case, I would currently be living on the island of Guernsey, married to Brady Stoner – the gravy-eating cowboy – and living next door to Dawsey and Juliet.

What I am talking about is reading a book and having so many similarities with the main character that it is almost ridiculous.  The book might as well have been written about you.  In fact, you double check the back cover to make sure you do not know the author in person.

I recently finished reading Cool Beans by Erynn Mangum, as a recommendation – and gift – from my mom.  And as I read, I got the overwhelming feeling that I was the main character, Maya Davis.

Here are some of the reasons why: 

1. We both love making lists.
2. We both love coffee.  Granted, I can’t drink caffeine, so coffee doesn’t happen all that often anymore.  But I am currently addicted to lemon-flavored Lipton’s Iced Tea, except that I drink it hot.  Hot iced tea.  I am not lost in the irony.
3. We watch and love the same movies and TV shows: Runaway Bride, While You Were Sleeping, Friends, Gilmore Girls.
4. We both love ice cream.  Oreo Blizzard, anyone?
5. We both order the same entrée at Panda Express.  Orange Chicken.  The only way to go.
6. We both, on occasion, eat chocolate for breakfast.  After all, chocolate is a vegetable: it comes from a bean, and beans are, without a doubt, vegetables. 

And on the list goes.

How is this possible?  I am still trying to figure it out.  In some ways, it makes reading easy because I know what to expect from Maya; she would do what I would do.  But it also gives me the heebie-jeebies.

As similarities abound and bewilderment lingers, I am off to read the second book in the series.  Let’s see what Maya has in store for us next…  

Old Guys and Pink Peppermints

...Because I was asked by someone to post a poem.  I am not one for writing poetry, and this one is from my sophomore year of college.  But the subject still holds a special place in my heart.

Old Guys and Pink Peppermints

-To My Guys in The Kings Men of Song-

“Step Into the Water”

“Canaan Land”

“Jesus Paid It All”

“Joy Comes in the Morning”

“Written in Red”

I grew up with songs like these

As I sat in a different church pew

Every Sunday night.

Because you see,

My mom was the pianist

For the King’s Men of Song.

I have listened to these men sing

As my mother played

Since I was a baby.

I was too little to sit alone

So I sat by my great aunt Ev

Who always brought me corn-candies.

I soon grew old enough

To sit up front by my Mom

And listen as those men sang their songs.

I grew up with these men singing,

And of course I was slightly spoiled,

Being a cute little girl in dresses and all.

There was Mr. Andy who always had pink peppermints,

And the man who gave me a ring from McDonalds.

And who could forget the time a guy taught me

To make it appear as though I could put a finger in my ear

And make it come out my mouth.

There were always those special concerts

Such as the ones on Lummi Island

In a little church by the sea,

And the guys all sang “Happy Birthday” to me.

Or that one in Friday Harbor

When my math homework confounded Mr. Don. 

Of course, there are those members

Who will always hold a special place in my heart:

Mr. Brent with his rainbow suspenders

And one of the sweetest smiles you will ever see.

Mr. Hank, the old director

Who hugged me so tight it almost hurt.

Mr. Don who still talks to me about math problems

And has already volunteered to sing at my wedding

Despite the fact that I’m not even engaged.

Mr. Andy whom I haven’t seen in years,

But I will never forget all those pink peppermints.

Then, there is my great uncle Chuck

Who passed away not too long ago.

But his cheerful disposition and warm hugs

Will never be forgotten.

And I can’t forget Mrs. Marcia,

Who obviously isn’t exactly one of the guys,

But her solos are breathtaking,

And I can still see her smiling at me

As she sings away with The King’s Men of Song.

I grew up with all these men,

And their beautiful songs that I will always hold dear.

Every time I hear them sing,

As my Mom plays the piano,

I simply can’t help but smile

Because I love these old guys,

All the memories they bring,

And those pink peppermints.

Living Simply

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…I want to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life…”

One day in history, Henry David Thoreau left the hustle and bustle of everyday life to live by himself in a small cabin in the woods, situated next to the ever-quiet Walden Pond.  He left to truly experience life and draw as much out of it as possible.  While his unique outlook and way of living may not have been sound in their entirety, he made some very poignant points.  One, in particular.

“Simplify, simplify.”

We live our lives running here and there, never stopping to take a breath.  Our lives – at least mine – are filled with lists of things to do, lists of what’s for dinner, lists of gifts to buy.  Our lives are filled with stuff, both literally and figuratively.  But sometimes, we need to slow, we need to take a breath, we need to focus on the simple.

I greatly admire people who strive to simplify their lives.  I’ve watched and read about people who have joined the Tiny House Movement, and I think to myself how wonderful that would be.  Everything has an exact place, and there simply isn’t room to have many possessions.  There is something idyllic and idealistic about such a small space.  I think to myself, “I want a tiny house!  What fun it would be – an OCD person’s dream to organize.”  And then I realize that it would be unrealistic to have children in such a small space.  And where would my parents sleep when they come to visit?  How do people actually do this?

I have also heard of people who limit the amount of clothes they wear, usually for a particular season.  Capsule Wardrobes, they are called.  Pick a limited number of tops, pants, coats, etc. to mix and match over a set number of months.  If I were still a student, I would find this idea a little more plausible, but trying to teach with only one sweater and five tops simply is not going to happen for me.

Somewhere inside of me, there is a conflict.  I want to live simply, and yet, if you were to look in my closet, you would be astounded.  An old coloring book, my outer space book I made in 2^nd grade when Pluto was still a planet, a 6^th grade book report, my Spanish ABC book, notes from every English class I’ve taken since my freshman year of high school, old cowboy boots, several baby dolls, and on and on and on the list goes.  How can I get rid of such precious memories?

I have decided that to live simply is not a command to get rid of all my childhood treasures, but it is more of a way to view life.  I need to minimize distractions to focus on the elements of life that truly matter: my faith, my family and friends, and for me, my students.  I need to ask myself if I really need that new pair of shoes or if I simply want it – a very difficult task at times, trust me.  I need to de-clutter but still keep some of the memories along the way.  So today, I challenge myself to “simplify, simplify,” and we will see where this journey leads. 

I am Mrs. Vriend

Every September, my classroom fills with students, and suddenly, I am transformed into “Mrs. Vriend.”  I respond more quickly to “Mrs. Vriend” than any other name, simply because I am called that countless times every day:

“Mrs. Vriend, can I go to the bathroom?”

            “Mrs. Vriend, can you come and look at this?”
                        “Mrs. Vriend, what does ‘wanton’ mean?”

                                    “Mrs. Vriend, what time does class get out?”

                                                “Mrs. Vriend, how did you meet your husband?”

                                                            And on and on and on it goes…

I am a teacher.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I will admit that after college, I wasn’t so sure.  Can I really do this?  Do I even enjoy teaching?  Do I want to do homework every night for the rest of my life?

But thankfully, my loving husband convinced me that really, I needed to give this a try.  I applied for a job and received a position, and while the start was rough, it was just what I needed.

My job is by no means easy.  Some days, I wonder why I assigned 35 students essays that are now stacked up and waiting to be graded.  Some days, I wonder if I made any sense and if I at least sounded like I knew what I was talking about.  Some days, I am emotionally exhausted after giving of myself all day long, allowing each student to take the little piece of me they needed to keep going and learn that day.

But every day I get to teach the subject that I love to students that I love.  Every day, I get to travel around in books and teach students that semi-colons are the best punctuation mark ever invented.  Every day, I get to show my students the incredible world of words that God created for us to enjoy.  Every day, I get to see students enjoying learning and growing in their knowledge, individuality, and faith.

So give me the homework, the lesson plans, the essays.  I get to mold young adults into the people God created them to be.  And that is why they call me “Mrs. Vriend.”