mostly just tall

It's nice of stores to have a Big and Tall section, but some of them have got to realize a few of us could really benefit from a Big OR Tall section. Should it really be this hard for a man to find a pair of pants that fit?

Entomology

Caught a lightning bug last night, kept him in an overturned drinking glass for observation. I figure they're nocturnal, so I'm not completely worried, but do you think it's normal for them to sleep on their backs?

Wonder

I've always thought of myself as a pretty observant guy, noticing the small things not many others see, finding beauty in unusual places. But having a two year old takes it to a whole new level. I now hear and see every plane that flies overhead and every bird no matter how high up it is. Every truck that passes by--in all shapes, sizes, and colors--is cause for more celebration. Sticks and rocks are about as exciting as it gets. Bunnies and chipmunks and squirrels and bugs.

And best of all, tonight we found three baby cardinals in the rhododendron right outside of his window. When you bump the bush all three necks immediately crane with mouths instinctively open wide ready for feeding time. We can spy on them from his window, as we did three different times right before bed, when we got to see the mother feeding them. With all this, he learned the word "amazing," as he repeated it after me in his own little mumble.

Life is going at a pretty rapid pace right now. But this little guy came along just in time, teaching us to slow down and enjoy every moment. It's felt good to laugh.

Breathing

Dear Lake,
Please tour through Paris on Halloween 2011 so you can play at our house again.
Thank you for your consideration.

Things I'll Miss from Teaching: Being a Teacher

I walked out of the school day free from all future responsibility.

It's been a roller-coaster of a week. One minute I'm excited for what lies ahead, thankful to be done and ready to move forward. The next minute I'm wondering what in the world I've done.

I spent the first 21 years of my life wanting to be a teacher and insisting I would never be a pastor. Somewhere in the last five years that changed, and while I feel quite strongly that it's the right decision, it's not easy to undo 21 years of intent in one week.

There have been many farewells in the week, from kids, parents, coworkers, and administrators alike, all of which make me realize even more how special the place I've been working has been.

One farewell, created by the two other fifth grade teachers, consisted of a movie with each of the lower school faculty members giving helpful French phrases like, "Do you have this shoe in a size 13?" or "Paris is nice, but I'd like to return to Bethlehem now."

I've spent a lot of time thinking about the first two years of teaching compared with the last three, less than a mile apart but worlds different, wondering why they had to be so different, what's wrong with me, what's wrong with the system, why can't all schools be as good as the one I've been in. All I know is the last three years have been a pleasure and a privilege. Whereas in the first two years, every single morning was filled with the strongest sense of dread you can ever imagine, never once did I wake up in the past three years saying to myself, "I wish I didn't have to go to work today." When you've got a job like that, you've got it made. I realize how rare it is.

I had a blast hanging out with 5th graders for the past three years. Entertaining them, disciplining them, challenging them, sharing with them, getting them to think. I thank God over and over again for what I really have considered a dream job.

And all of that makes me feel even more crazy to be leaving.

I made a CD of music as an end of the year gift for my coworker. She told me she listened to it on the ride home and liked the Tallest Man on Earth singing "The Wild Hunt," in part because of the music, in part because of its message. I admitted to her that I had to look up the lyrics to see what she meant, because I really hadn't listened to them. Turns out they are quite fitting.

I left my heart to the wild hunt a-comin
I live until the call
And I plan to be forgotten when I'm gone
Yes I'll be leavin' in the fall

Drone

Only a half hour into the World Cup and the constant droning in the background is giving me a headache. Not giving up yet, but the mute button might be helpful from here on out.

Things I'll Miss from Teaching: Younger Students

When you're a young male teacher, a certain inevitable reputation comes with the job.

It's an honor feeling a bit like a celebrity in the hallways, with younger students looking up in amazement. Usually some sort of greeting comes with it, like a little wave at least, or a question for confirmation: "Are you Mister Shorb?" I love the kids that simply say what they're thinking in astonishment, "You're tall!" Or the sweethearts who--no matter what age they are--say, "I can't wait for fifth grade," or "I hope I have you for a teacher."

I love catching some by surprise, making faces at them from the hallway while they sit at their desks, or doing a little football fake-out spin-move around them as we walk towards each other.

As I walked to bus duty the other day, one sweet girl looked up and said, "Excuse me, sir?" [Their manners! I'll miss their manners!]
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Are you Mr. Shorb?"
"Yes, that's me."
"I've heard something about you moving to France?"
"Yes, what you've heard is true. I am moving there very soon."
"I'm going to miss you."

Gosh, that's one way to grab the heart of a grown man. I wanted to ask why she would miss me if she didn't know who I was, but instead I simply said thank you with a big smile, adding that I would miss all of them also.

Things I'll Miss from Teaching: Recess

Of course, there's one of my favorite stories from teaching, The Staring Contest of the Century.

But that's not all. The other day I was recounting several haps and mishaps from the playground to Erica.

Thursday we organized a game of Duck Duck Goose with the kindergartners, and with a little help from me blocking, a kindergartner tagged a certain girl out, and I proceeded with heckling her about how slow she is. (Don't worry, she's an athletic one with elder siblings, so I knew she could handle this.) This resulted in her challenging me to a race at recess.

Once words like "chicken" were thrown around profusely, I knew I couldn't refuse, so I agreed, knowing also that I couldn't lose. The kids crowded around in excitement, and I honestly was a little nervous about this contest knowing that I hadn't done an all-out sprint in at least three years or so. But despite almost stepping out of my shoes more than once, my long legs carried me to victory, much to her disappointment.

In a separate occasion, one of the best athletes in the class challenged me to a walking race, mostly because I told him he wasn't allowed to run to lunch. Knowing I'm a champion walk-racer, I just laughed at him as he boasted about how he was going to destroy me. We tried to race, but he refused to walk and cheated every time. Another easy defeat.

This led to many other challenges the other day, including a skipping race that I won. And when ALL the kids wanted a walking race, the sore-loser tried blocking me, and I simply plowed him over, intending to continue on for the win. But when I realized I quite literally plowed him over, much more forcefully than I meant to, I quickly stopped, turned back, and made sure he was ok. He was giggling, but looked a little stunned as if asking himself, "Are teachers allowed to do that?"

Then there was the time I was playing basketball with the boys, and I gave one a gnarly fat lip with my elbow. It wasn't so much my fault, it's just that all of their mouths lie perfectly at elbow height.

And my favorite move? In the middle of the keep-away games, I grab the ball and simply stretch my arm straight up, holding it 7 or 8 feet in the air. They jump and swing and grab and reach and push to no avail.

Erica giggled through this list of stories and finally asked, "So, um, do any other teachers do this sort of thing?"

Other than the occasional all-time-pitcher for kickball or jump-rope swinger, I'm pretty sure the answer is no.

Does that mean I'm unprofessional? Too young for my own good? Lacking self control? Immature? Whatever it means, I'll miss it.

Things I'll Miss from Teaching: Making Connections

We finished out the year by reading Tuck Everlasting. The kids devoured it in a way I haven't seen all year, and I loved it too. Mystery, action, big themes, poetic descriptions, symbolism, all done in a way to which you can relate.

(This was the first year I taught reading, and I'm just glad it got me to read three novels I wouldn't have otherwise read. And don't get me started on the conversation of them being "kids' books.")

The central theme of the book is "the wheel" of life, talking about how death is a part of life and so on.

On Wednesday in chapel, the responsive reading consisted of familiar words from Ecclesiastes: a time for everything under the sun, a time be born, a time to die, and so on.

When we returned back to the classroom, I quickly searched on YouTube for the Byrds.

I loved the way "Turn, Turn, Turn" tied together Ecclesiastes with Tuck Everlasting. The kids did too.

And since we were in Ecclesiastes, I went ahead and made one more connection, talking about Carl teaching his college students from the first chapter of the book: "I devoted myself to study and to explore by wisdom all that is done under heaven. What a heavy burden God has laid on men!" Learning is hard work, so work hard. And that led me to talking about Carl's dad, Byron, who showed me when I was about their age that the more you know, the more you don't know.

For the first time this year, they seemed engaged in the conversation, probably because I was talking obnoxiously loud and proceeding at a manic pace. My hope was to make one last ditch effort in inspiring them to learn for the rest of their lives and love doing so. And make connections. There are always connections to be made.

And I'll miss sharing those connections with 11-year-olds every day.

Everything Ends How It Begins

The night I accepted my first teaching job, I listened to Sufjan Steven's Michigan album, namely tracks 13-15, including "Oh God, Where are you now?" and "Vito's Ordination Song."

The kids are working right now, the third to last day of school, and I chose to play the same album. I didn't realize the significance until track 13 started playing.