IN HONOR OF THE QUIET HEROES--by Shelly Webb

 

We throw the word ‘hero’ around quite a bit in our society. We go to watch blockbuster movies like, ‘The Avengers’, ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’, ‘Batman’, ‘Spiderman’ and tons more. We also honor our military with the word ‘hero’, as we should, because they most certainly fit the definition. Heroes can be celebrities, singers, rock bands, sports stars, firefighters, really anyone that does a heroic deed, or exceeds the expectations of normal life.

A hero, according to researchers Franco, Blau, and Zimbardo, (three psychologist that have studied this topic more than most) is a person who, “acts voluntarily for the service of others who are in need, whether it is for an individual, a group, or a community. Performs actions without any expectation of reward or external gain.”

This week I watched two REAL LIFE heroes that I work with step up and “act voluntarily” for a student at our school that was in need. The student had received word that he was being removed from his current foster placement immediately. That may not sound like a big deal to some of us, but when you are ten-years-old and you’ve finally managed to make some relationships, friendships and have a sense of belonging in a school that resembles the closest thing you have to a family, it is a huge deal.

Kids need stability, we all agree on that. Unfortunately, there are countless children walking the halls of schools all across America that hail from unstable situations every day.

But on this day, these two heroes said, “enough.” They said, “we’ve had it.” They said, “we are fixing this for him.” They chose to fight. They fought through CPS red tape, made phone calls, cried, rearranged their schedules, their house and within 24 hours had moved heaven and earth to gain temporary custody of this boy. His life will be changed forever, the path he was on has been altered. This new path shines with hope so bright he will have to squint each day! This new path will take him places he’s never been, and will show him a depth of acceptance and love that he’s probably never felt. These two heroes and their own children are also on a new path. A path that I believe will be blessed by God, a path that will different, but good, a path that will harvest great rewards one day. 

Heroes are different things to different people, to me a REAL hero is the tired teachers down the hall, in the month of May, when students and staff are counting down the days until the glorious summer; that put their schedules, their exhaustion, their very lives on hold long enough to “act voluntarily for the service of young child in need without any expectation at all of reward to gain”! I am proud to know them, and even prouder to work with them.

I sincerely believe that working with kids is the best job ever, but like any job it is not perfect, and somedays are hard (really hard). The problems of society spill over into schools, and into the lives of the students and that’s just the reality of our world. Administrators, educators, para-professionals, bus drivers, cooks, custodians, secretaries, the list goes on and on…. NONE of us are great, in fact we all fall short every single day, but sometimes we rise to a place of greatness for someone else’s benefit and that’s what makes a true hero. I am grateful for the heroes I work with daily; they never stop trying and I think that’s the real secret to success. 

 

BENDING BOUNDARIES AND BREAKING RULES - Shelly Webb

Would you rather own an upright piano or a grand piano?

Would you rather visit a canyon, or the Grand Canyon?

What about a hotel, would you rather stay in a regular hotel, or in a Grand Hotel?

In all these examples, most people would choose the “grand” over the alternative. A grand piano is more majestic and noticeable than an upright piano. The Grand Canyon obviously, more splendid than other canyons, and most vacationers would opt for the Grand Hotel if affordable.

But what makes something “grand”—well it’s “more”, it’s “majestic”, “impressive”, “better”.

So now, think of GRAND parents, what should they look like? Should they just be upright, regular or should they be GRAND?

I am grateful that my daughter and son-in-law allow me to be GRAND in every sense of the word with their children. They’re okay if I bend boundaries or break rules. They hold their tongue and roll their eyes, but they always let me be grand. They don’t withhold their children from me because I gave them soda or an extra juice, or didn’t make them take a nap. When my grandkids are with me, they know they are safe and loved. They also know that I am not going to do everything the way it’s done at home, but they understand that’s the “grand” part of being a grandparent. I buy them too much, and I make them whatever they request for lunch. Sometimes they cry to stay and don’t want to go home, and who could blame them, it’s far too GRAND to leave.

Grand hotels offer luxuries and amenities that regular hotels don’t, such as full 24-hour room service, hot breakfasts, a wide menu full of all kinds of foods and desserts, large fitness centers, fancy gardens, helpful staff with smiles on their faces, extra towels, and even swimming pools.

Grandparents are similar to grand hotels. We know the secrets of good customer service. We are older, more patient and have learned that life goes by pretty fast so the second time around we are more about the memories and fun than the “rules”. Kids have parents to enforce the rules, serve the vegetables, and regulate bedtimes. Grandparents can enforce excessive fun and silliness, tell the jokes, and bend the rules. It’s a part of the being “grand” thing.

When I was a kid I LOVED staying at my grandparents’ house on the weekend. I would be so sad after church on Sundays because I knew my dad would be arriving soon to pick me up. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my dad and mom, it was just that my grandparents’ humble home was the first magical kingdom I ever knew. One special cupboard in my grandma’s house held the fudge striped cookies that I loved. I always knew there would be a pack in there just for my pleasure. I also knew we would walk to Paul’s Grocery Store, I’d hear a story on the way, and we would buy penny candy once we were there. My grandparent’s lived in town and had TV with lots of channels, and I loved watching Gilligan’s Island and Bewitched at their house. Being at my grandparent’s house was all about special amenities, treats, listening to stories, watching TV, playing games and being spoiled and loved on. My parents never once reprimanded my grandparents for overindulging or breaking a rule. It was expected and accepted, and I fully understood that once I got home, it was back to normal.

I feel like today, there is a lot of talk about “boundaries” and “rules”. I even hear the word “toxic” used to describe some grandparents that disagree or don’t uphold every rule laid down by their adult children. It makes me sad because kids have one chance at being a kid. They have a few quick ‘kid years’ to make those bonds and relationships with grandparents, bonds and relationships that can last a lifetime if allowed to bloom and grow. I realize in rare cases there may be situations that are not ideal for children to be around a grandparent, but honestly those cases are far and few between.

Imagine a Grand Hotel with no pool or room service, or a Grand Staircase that’s not allowed to be walked up, or going to the Grand Canyon only to be told you can look for one minute, that’s the rule. It would suck all the ‘grand’ right out of it!

Let grandparents be grand…it’s the best part of being a grandparent. Your parents raised you, they loved you, taught you to be a good worker, taught you character and made you tow the line. It’s their turn to relax and enjoy bending some rules. Who cares if they give your kid a donut for breakfast or two apple juices? These little things that might drive you nuts now, will not have lasting effects, just lasting memories. There’s a reason why my husband who is 66 remembers walking down to his grandma’s every morning at 5 AM to enjoy a Pop Tart and morning chat. It’s the same reason why he did anything she asked when he was an adult, and why it broke his heart the day she passed. She was permitted to be GRAND. Never rob anyone of their GRANDNESS and enjoy your own GRANDNESS when you become GRAND one day.

Pieces of Life- Shelly Webb

 

Life is not like a box of chocolates. At least mine, has never felt like that. My life is more like a box of Legos, a tattered box with crumpled edges, missing pieces and faded colors. These imaginary blocks and pieces are all in my mind, and all represent different things in my life; broken things I am trying to build back, careless spending I’ve lost track of, past mistakes I’m attempting to recapture and redo with a better outcome, and of course all kinds of time that I’ve squandered.

I meet God every night around 3AM when the world is most quiet, and I feel like I have more of his attention. Then I lug out this worn box of Legos and He and I, go through the little pieces one by one. “Look what I built today,” I say, knowing nothing can impress the creator of space, galaxies, mountains, oceans and all of nature. I think in my mind that He approves of my feeble attempt. But then I find myself saying things like, “I have no clue where the flat piece is that should hook onto here, I screwed that up pretty bad, it’s probably ruined forever”. “Oh, and what is this little piece for, it looks like a flagpole and here’s a window, what should I do with this”?

I have so many little pieces, and they are all faded and old. What can I still make with them? Somedays I just want a brand-new box with new features, new colors and brighter paint. But I am very attached to this old box that I keep dragging around day after day. I know I am supposed to make things, good things, impressive things, but sometimes it’s all I can do to make a few clicks and come up with a little set of steps, let alone a complete house. And the pieces are so good at reminding me that no matter how hard I work, or what masterpiece I create, they are still Legos….and they are going to end up back in this box in pieces. So why am I even bothering?

I want to believe that God has given me the exact pieces He wants me to work with right now, at this time. Could He be wrong though? Does He realize I don’t have that flat green base anymore? Does He know I’ve lost the little red door and most of the flat angled pieces that make a roof?  I don’t even have enough pieces to make the boat, or the little car, or a complete little, Lego person.

I feel defeated and overwhelmed. I know I started out with a much larger collection of pieces, I’m not sure what has become of them all along the way. I feel like God looks through the box with me some nights and scratches His head, thinking, “wow what a neat, little mess you’ve made”. It’s all my troubles, failures and ‘try hards’ in one haphazard box, ends crushed, pieces falling out, and missing links. I can read the disappointment in His face. I am afraid He’s thinking, “I started you out with the complete set, a strong, new box and even an instruction booklet, what happened”? And He is right of course, He and His ways are always right. He has never failed to give me exactly what I needed at the exact time I needed it, even if I thought it was the last thing I needed at that time. 

It's hard sometimes, but I know in my heart that no matter how pitiful my Lego box has become, and no matter how many pieces I’ve lost along the way, He still has a plan for me to make something, He still wants me to bring everything to Him and no matter what, He will always be willing to comb through each piece with me. Despite His disappointment, despite my continual failures, I know He will sit right by me, while I sift through grief, regret, sadness, and little pieces of hope scattered throughout the piles.

And each time, I will hear Him whisper, “you don’t need to make a masterpiece, just use these pieces to be the masterpiece I made you to be”.

When Change Turns Out to Be GOOD- Shelly Webb

          Anyone who truly knows me, knows that I do not like change. In fact, I despise it. “Shelly does not adapt well to change,” is actually written in an old letter my mom had years ago, from the school psychologist. My oldest daughter has been married five years, and I still call her Katilyn Webb, which always draws an eye roll from my son-in-law. I just prefer things stay the same.

         So when I learned last year that my third grade team would be getting a new teacher added to the mix, I must confess, I panicked. I was disgruntled and worried. I kept thinking of all the scenarios that could unfold. “We already have the perfect team,” I thought, “why are we changing things, this is ridiculous.”

Then to top it off I learned the new teacher was young, early 20s, and beautiful. Really? What is a team of fifty-year-olds going to do with a twenty-four-year old, super-model teacher teammate? Change was coming and I was none too pleased!

So…….it’s been 16 days with the super-model and….. we LOVE her! She is amazing. During our first official meeting she made it clear that she was going to be 100% IN. She offered to help everyone in any way she could. She was so accommodating about schedules, pullouts, spelling lists, cursive writing and a million other things. And since her mom has been a teacher forever, she understands and relates to every scenario, issue, or little problem that might arise in the exact best way.

She is hard-working, professional, smart, fun and genuine. She gets my sarcasm and my sense of humor; and has her own sarcasm and sense of humor, which makes it even better. Our team has always been about relationships and she has the “relationship” gene, for sure. She is always willing to go above and beyond, in any situation.

Also she is just plain fun and happy. She loves Batman, has seen every Western ever recorded (I think), has seen Dirty Dancing, Top Gun and knew who Danny and Sandy were from Grease! Her quick wit and joke playing pranks has made me actually say, “My gosh did I raise you”?

Long story short, there’s a team of 50 plus year olds at Warsaw Elementary that are loving their new 20 something super model teammate! Oh, and another perk…she dates a highway patrolman, which could come in handy with a future speeding ticket or two J

The Ringmaster in my head- the struggle is real-Shelly Webb

 

         I know this sounds crazy, but I have this circus ringmaster guy in my head. He’s real bright and shiny, he has the red tailcoat, black top hat, high boots and the little cane. He’s not like The Greatest Showman Hugh Jackman Ringmaster though, no songs about the brightest colors in my head or a million dreams. This guy is a real jerk.

He narrates different parts of my day, which could be defined as circus acts I suppose, with a big loud ringmaster voice. For instance, like when I’m getting ready in the mornings. I hear him screaming, “Ladies and Gentlemen let’s see if the amazing Shelly can squeeze into last year’s capris, this will be quite a feat if she can do it… can she, YES they’re buttoned, wow! Now can she find a shirt to cover that muffin top.” And the crowd goes crazy and I roll my eyes at him.

         There are also days he’s all up on me at work, “Ladies and Gentleman settle back in your seat and watch the amazing Shelly as she attempts to teach (student name) to write an essay using, WHAT, a hamburger graphic organizer! Has she lost her mind. The top bun is an introduction, the meat is the details, the bottom bun is a conclusion! This will never grow into an AIR test worthy writing. And it appears she has abandoned all semblance of spelling to boot. She is deceiving this child into believing he can write! And he’s buying it, oh the fraud!” And the crowd goes crazy. And I sigh heavily…and roll my eyes at him.

         He’s taunted my parenting skills for years, (but oddly enough thinks I am an amazing nana), “Oh my, ladies and gentleman, did this 15-year-old not lose her cell phone, AND was she not told that she could not go to the school dance? But what is this? Inconsistent Shelly is driving her to the dance and what is in her hand, my god, it’s the cell phone. When will this madness end? It’s a tight rope balancing act like I have never seen!”

And the crowd frowns and shakes their heads. And I show no emotion on that one.

         He scoffs at my purchases, “Ladies and Gentleman, Shelly owns a perfectly good table and chairs, but yet she is buying another one, is she insane, wasteful or just trying to tick off her husband? We really must watch this unfold.” And the crowd watches. And the husband rolls his eyes this time, but is not ticked off.

         Over and over, he announces my doubts, my decisions, my mistakes. He reminds me how many tootsie rolls I’ve eaten, he counts my carbs, he tells me I’m not tough enough on my kids, he tells me I am too tough on my kids, he tells me things won’t work, he blames me for other people’s decisions and choices, he notices every new line under my eyes, every new ounce on the scale, he’s amazing really, he misses nothing. He does compliment my nana skills often so we’re good on that front. He must have a great nana somewhere in his past.

         I can’t decide if he’s out to help me or destroy me. When I am going to sleep at night, I see him sweeping out the big tent, looking tired, I mean he has had quite the day, calling the plays in my life. He throws his shiny red coat and top hat on a chair and collapses on his bunk. He looks tired at night, no so chipper, not so shiny and not so loud.

I look at him and say, “Why”?

         He looks back and says, “to keep you grounded and real, and to try to set you some boundaries girl, without me you’d be out of control.”

         When did he arrive, I wonder, I think he started with a small ring maybe when I entered high school? He was definitely three ringing it by the time I became a mom, and lately I think he’s attempting a franchise.

         So I wonder…is he a jerk? Does he have any interest in me succeeding? Does he constantly point out my errors so I don’t cross some big line? Does anyone else have a ringmaster narrating their life?

         I joke about him to friends and imitate his big, booming voice, but figuring out if he’s a friend or foe is the real feat. I’ve often said, my life is a circus, so maybe I need a ringmaster. I have a feeling I could fire him too, anytime I wanted, but I might need him more than I think….and he does love me as a nana…

Taking a ‘Break’—for summer only

As another school year is coming to an end, it occurred to me the other day how teaching is similar to marriage… I know this sounds weird, but really think about it.

The first nine weeks of the school year is a total honeymoon period. I am getting to know the kids, what they like, what they don’t like, which genres they enjoy reading, what they know, what they don’t know and so forth. I learn who their friends and family are, just like I learned who my husband’s friends and family were when he and I first got together. They are on their best behavior, just like my husband was on his best behavior in the beginning. I know if they have allergies, when they are sick, what annoys them, what makes them shut down and how to encourage them. During this time, I am falling deeply in love with them and they with me. And all is right with the world.

Then comes the winter months. The second and third nine weeks are the ‘oh my gosh we’re married’ period. The period when I realize there is a lot of hard work to do if we are going to build a solid foundation that is going to be able to withstand the storms of the AIR test in the spring. During this time, we are deep into the work of the relationship. I am also learning what motivates or as my third grade team member likes to say, “what innocently manipulates them”, into giving it their all. I find myself serving them hot buttered toast on cold mornings, bringing donuts on Friday, replenishing the candy basket or prize box and offering tons of verbal praise and confirmation to each one. These are the same things I do to get my husband to finish projects at home, take out the trash, hang up a picture or buy a new couch. I must say, being married has given me a lot of experience in ‘manipulation’.

About halfway into the final nine weeks, things feel a little different. I find myself sensing the impending ‘separation’; suddenly, I’m ‘flirting’ with second graders in the hallway, knowing they are almost MY students now. I am also losing my patience more quickly than ever before when someone tattles for the nineteenth time or “accidentally” puts big X marks all over someone else’s paper. I can no longer referee the kickball game with googly eyes or emoji hearts dancing above my head, instead I find myself sounding like a sixty-year-old baseball umpire shouting at nine-year-olds, “You’re out, take a seat”! It’s the same tone as when I occasionally snap to my husband of 30 years, “No I didn’t cook dinner and the trash needs out”!

Although I am happily married and have little basis for this final analogy, I liken the final days of the school year to still living with your ex- but knowing the paper work is almost filed and you’re going to be ‘single’ again in a few days.

And all the mixed emotions that must go with that scenario are present. I am just as excited for summer break as the kids, but I will truly have to adjust to ‘being single’ again, even though it’s only for 12 weeks, then I start a whole new relationship cycle. Every year I tell myself, “Oh my, this is definitely my favorite class”, and every year, I sincerely mean it. I love that I get to start over fresh every year and experience all the phases of getting to know, falling in love and sending to fourth grade, eight and nine year olds. They are by far the best age group to teach, to play with, to ‘innocently manipulate’, to feed, to take care of and to build a great friendship with that I honestly believe will last a lifetime.

Just like a lovable ex-husband, I know as they grow up, they will remain in my life whether through social media, occasional phone calls, or personal visits. When you spend a year building and investing in a genuine relationship, that relationship survives the honeymoon, the marriage, the hard work, the disagreements, the arguments, the good days, the tough days and even INSIDE RECESS! And if a relationship can survive INSIDE RECESS all winter long, trust me, it can survive ANYTHING!

This has truly been a great year, with an amazing class and I LOVE every single one of them. I have four final days for the 2017-2018 school year to spend with an EPIC team and 38 phenomenal kids, and even though this day lasted 18 hours, it’s still the best job I could ever have imagined!

The End...That Never Ends

Shelly Webb

I have always hated endings, even happy endings to me are sad. When something ends, it’s over and I don’t like “over”. I like things to go on and on and never run out. Whether I am reading a book, watching a movie, or on vacation, I feel sad when things are winding down. I even mentally prepare myself to bid characters in books good-bye as I near the final chapter. I have actually committed the unpardonable sin of reading the ending of a book first, just so I can prepare for what’s going to happen. You see, as bad as I hate endings, I am worse at having to know HOW it’s going to end.

I have been thinking about endings a lot lately and wondering if “happy” endings could ever really exist. I mean what could possibly be “happy” about the end of something? I think these thoughts are rooted in the frequency I’ve been to calling hours or funerals lately. The older I get, it seems the more endings I find myself facing. And knowing that we all have an “ending” on this earth makes me feel really sad.

Life is amazing and everyday holds such promise and potential, even when things are going bad, I want another chance, a clean slate, a fresh start. I just always want more. And if I can’t always have more, then I at least want to know the ending so I can start adjusting.

Having faith in Christ and reading His Word allows me an insight into the future regardless of how my ending on earth will come about. I have always loved the verses in I Thessalonians 4:13-18, Paul not only speaks about endings, but he gives us an early edition into the future.

“¹³ But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope.¹⁴ For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. ¹⁵ For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep.¹⁶ For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. ¹⁷ Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. ¹⁸ Therefore comfort one another with these words.”

I love that scripture refers to those Christians who have died as, “asleep”. Asleep is not an end. Asleep is a rest or a pause; people that have fallen asleep wake up. Sleep is not permanent. I remember after my mom’s funeral reading and re-reading these verses over and over, day after day, month after month.

Grief is one of the strongest emotions, if not THE strongest that an individual will ever feel. It is a bottomless pit of anguish and the feeling of hopelessness that engulfs a person grieving is personal and indescribable to anyone else. No two people grieve the same way, the same length of time, or can even understand another person’s grief despite how much grief they themselves have endured.

Endings bring me varying degrees of grief. The end of a good book, I feel a little down for a few minutes and then move on, the end of a good movie or TV series, I’m disappointed for a night or two and then whatever show it was I was watching leaves my mind. The end of an era (a graduation, a wedding, my kids growing up, getting older) can make me feel really sad for a few days at a time, every now and then. Believe it or not, even the last days of the school year, I find myself feeling that lost feeling, like it’s all ending and they’re moving on to another grade.

I hate change, I hate loss and I despise death, but I remind myself that God doesn’t want me to be “uninformed” about those who are “asleep”. I hope that one day when I “fall asleep”, someone will remind my own kids of these scripture verses and that even though they might feel like it’s the end, I want someone to help them work through their grief the best they can with God’s grace and comfort and focus on the reunion that will happen when I wake up, well rested and raring to go!