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!

Ice-Cream Cake and Laughter....Celebrating Paw

Believe it or not, my grandpa would have turned 99 years old today, November 7! He died when he was 74, on a sad day in May 1993. Despite the fact that he left this world 25 years ago, he is still very much alive in my heart and daily conversations.

This fact became very evident to me last night. I was in the process of making dinner when my youngest daughter, who never had the privilege of meeting him, burst in the door with an ice-cream cake to celebrate his birthday. Ice-cream cake was his favorite cake. I looked at her puzzled as she announced, “I bought an ice-cream cake for Paw’s birthday”. I stuttered around and said, “Uh… his birthday is tomorrow”. “I know,” she replied, “but we’re all here tonight for dinner”!

I was surprised and felt so happy inside as she and my older daughter, and son-in-law cut into the cake and began recounting countless stories of a man they never knew. My aunt and I sat there laughing and giggling as this younger generation reminded us of the nick-names he had for us, the crazy shenanigans’ he pulled, and the fun memories about him that we’ve imparted to them.

And you know what? He would have LOVED it! They re-told events of his life, things he had done and didn’t leave out a detail. It was almost as if they had actually been there in person. I feel like there is no greater honor we could give to my grandpa, than to have his great-grandchildren that never knew him, to “know” him. Not only to “know” him, but to have one actually make a stop after work, to buy a birthday cake, to celebrate a man she never met, that has been dead for 25 years.

Today, one of my third-graders came bounding in and told me, “Mrs. Webb, today is my birthday”! I told him that he shares a birthday with a great man, my late grandpa. “How old would he be if he was alive,” he asked. “99,” I told him. And then I thought, “He is alive”. He’s alive in all those stories and memories. He is alive in the fact that my kids remind me about him, and talk about him like they knew him personally.

Eating the cake and sharing all those stories they have learned from my memories was a great feeling. I hope that I can live my life in a way that 25 years after I am long gone, a generation of kids, that I never got to meet are celebrating my life with the same laughter and joy. And I hope they are eating my favorite cake, Chocolate with Chocolate Icing!

"Dying on Hills" and "Choosing Battles"

“My aunt Shelly lets me do whatever I want,” my little niece, Abby recently shared with a friend. ---- My husband was surprised to hear her say this because obviously that's not the case, in fact, he thinks I’m pretty strict with her.

Abby may “think” she is getting to do whatever she wants because as I have gotten older, I have learned a few tricks. I spent a lot of time and energy when my kids were young micromanaging everything from their dresser drawers to their attitudes. More than once I would hear my mom’s voice in my head saying her famous quote, “don’t make a mountain out of a molehill”. However, I would ignore that voice and continue building that molehill right up into a mountain, and not just any mountain, it would be like a Mount Everest by the time I had finished.

Twenty-five-years later clichés like, “don’t die on that hill”, “choose your battles” and the infamous, “don’t make a mountain out of molehill”, are slowly becoming my mantra. When she wants to do something, I give Abby choices ---she makes her choice, and in her little, eight-year-old mind, she is getting to do whatever she wants.

She is super helpful and will do anything I ask her to do as far as a household chore or job. She knows that I usually repay these gestures later with ice-cream, a trip to the dollar store, or some other fun and (cheap) activity. And best of all, she knows if the fun reward doesn’t happen that very day, it will happen another day, and she is fairly patient with waiting because she knows it will definitely happen. My grown kids roll their eyes and say, “we didn’t get a reward” for helping out. True. They didn’t. But they got clothes, shoes, toys, games, food, doctor visits, dentist visits, Sunday school and many other privileges too numerous to name. Plus older kids always think the younger ones have it better for some reason.

My grown kids also get annoyed when I allow my niece to do silly things that aren’t necessary like…drinking out of a sippy cup or using the baby spoon to eat ice-cream. But in the big scheme of things…who really cares? It’s a fleeting moment of being silly and childish and she is EIGHT-years-old! “Picking a battle”, or “choosing a hill to die on”, has become a great talent of mine, and at 51, I am not going to die on the hill of which spoon she can use. I wish I had done this at 31, my life would have been much less stressful.

As a third-grade-teacher, I try to incorporate this attitude with my students and so far it has worked well. Guess what? Kids make mistakes. They make a lot of mistakes actually, they almost make as many mistakes as adults make J They also make poor choices and forget things. They respond quickly if they are being questioned and sometimes, they respond with an inappropriate tone or attitude. My goal is to hold them accountable, but to do so with a whole lot of grace and love. Some behaviors call for stern and swift consequences or lectures; but many times, we as adults continue to “beat a dead horse”, or decide to, “die on a very small hill”. Doing this not only ruins the day for the child, but it puts a big hole in the relationship you are trying to build.

Sometimes simply telling a child face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball, “don’t let this happen again”, is more effective than a big, public lecture in front of everyone. And sometimes a big, public lecture to the whole class is the ticket. As a human being, there are some days I fall short of what my goal is---sometimes I feel great driving home reflecting on the day, and other times, not so much.

I think the key is to always reflect, always try harder and to let the pendulum of grace always swing in favor of the kid. I believe that is how God’s grace works with us, it always swings in our favor, thank goodness! If God was in the habit of ‘beating dead horses’ and ‘making mountains out of molehills’, he would be busy 24/7 with ME alone!

Abby “thinks”, Aunt Shelly lets her do whatever she wants----In reality, Aunt Shelly guides her choices with grace and love; and the feeling of “freedom” that comes with that makes her feel like she’s doing whatever she wants. I am looking forward to having her in my third grade class this year----although this scenario could actually become the LITERAL hill that she or I dies on! Hopefully we both survive.

Boxed In--

“What did you do before you had that little pink box,”? It was a simple question posed by an elderly gentleman. He had just sat down next to my chair in the hair salon. He was there for a haircut, I was sitting ‘impatiently’, waiting for the color to process and hide my gray for another five or six weeks.

I shrugged my shoulders, smiled at him, and exited out of my current candy crush saga. I swiveled my chair around and faced him. He was nicely dressed, white haired and I could tell instantly that he was a ‘people person’. Within a short few minutes of talking with him, I learned that he resided in a little town south of the area I was from; he also had a ten-year-old grandson that loved technology and grown kids that visited “occasionally”. I could tell by the way he said the word, “occasionally”, that it was not enough for his liking. We talked as the stylist clipped away at his hair. By the end of the short conversation we discovered that we had two mutual friends (in real life, not Facebook) and that his wife worked for another acquaintance of mine. “Wow,” I said to him, “it really is a small world”. “Yep,” he added. “But you wouldn’t have known that if you had held on to that little pink box,” he laughed. His eyes were bright and friendly, but I knew he was making his point.

After he left, I sat there for a minute observing. Almost everyone else around me was engrossed in their own “little pink box”. I thought about how many times I had sat in waiting rooms at doctor or dentist visits, or stood in long lines at stores B.C.P (before cell phones). There was always small talk with strangers that sometimes turned into a meaningful conversation. I learned about the struggles and joys that unknown individuals were facing. Over the years I have conversed with people I didn’t really know, about the schools their kids attended, the illnesses their parents had endured, accidents that had happened, vacation spots they liked, car troubles they were having, diets that had failed, and of course weather, news and how things were different when they were young. And maybe my life wasn’t majorly impacted by these conversations, but my knowledge and awareness were definitely influenced.

I am certain that there are instances where we are ‘meant’ to encounter someone. I believe that God sends strangers into our paths at times to encourage us, make us think, get our attention; or at times for us to encourage them, make them think or get their attention. How many lonely or hurting people have I sat next to at the doctor’s office that needed a brief conversation to feel like life mattered, but I ignored them because I was playing a game on my phone? How many people had news they would have like to have shared or talked about, but I was too busy getting the latest news from Facebook? How many places have I been present physically, but mentally absent because I was trying to be present in a group text or Facebook message?

This nice, elderly gentleman that quite literally ‘forced’ me to put down my “little pink box” and have a conversation had me reflecting and thinking about a lot of life situations. I know I am on my phone too much. I know it has isolated me from strangers, and builds a wall of privacy that few people attempt to climb and invade. I hope that during this New Year I will be more aware of the people around me, especially the ones that want to interact and strike up a conversation. I am going to try to be more approachable in these situations. I believe the potential to learn something from the people we briefly encounter exists. We just have to know when to put down our phones and embrace that possibility; hopefully I can accomplish this more often than not in the coming year.