*fair warning: this is fairly random…but it's what's going on in my life right now.)
When I was on the JV basketball team in high school (i.e. the years I actually played instead of sitting on the bench), my coach made fun of my free-throw shooting motion. My left hand, supposed to be the supporting hand, was on the front of the basketball (it ought to be on the SIDE), and my right elbow would be angled out to the right. “You’re blocking your own shot!” he would laugh at me (it was all in the name of good coaching, I’m sure). In my defense, my elbow had a mind of its own. And sometimes the ball went in despite my unique shooting form. But my coach had a point. I was blocking my own shot. And I’ve realized that I do this in other areas of my life. No one gets in my way more than I do.
Case in point: Latin. No, seriously. Let me explain.
I’m a runner. In a completely metaphorical sense, of course. Physically, not so much. But I run from things. Emotionally, mentally. I check out. I think I’ve surprised everybody, including myself, by committing to the World Race. This is BIG. But I’m in this. I’m excited and I’m determined, and from this I won’t run. I’ve been planning and thinking about this for months. I’ve prayed about it, talked to family and friends about it, and I know this is the way God is taking my life. This is not some spontaneous decision I’ve made. Latin, however, was a different story.
If you don’t know, I’m in my first year of graduate school, working on my Master of Arts in Teaching. Teaching English, that is. But as of a month ago, I’m a Latin teacher. It’s important to note that I haven’t studied Latin in 9 years and I’ve never been in the classroom. And yet, I took a position as a full-time long-term substitute teacher at THREE DIFFERENT schools. I had students ranging from 11 to 18 years old. What was I thinking? This felt like more of a spontaneous, not-well-thought-out decision. But I prayed about it, and the timing felt pretty perfect…I’d finish the second week of June and then have a couple of weeks to spend with family and friends and get packed for the Race. I desperately needed a job, and I felt like God just placed this in my lap. So I said yes, and two days later I was teaching high school.
A week and a half after that, I was in the kitchen in tears. I was in over my head. Suddenly the “perfect timing” of finishing the job in June didn’t leave me enough time free between work and the Race. I was panicking about having time to do fundraising and keep up with blogging, communication with supporters, and the suddenly massive-seeming list of things I needed to do. AND I was also starting a new semester of graduate classes. There was no way I could do all those things and plan lessons and grade papers for all those classes. I was convinced I couldn’t handle it. Once that thought got in my head, I couldn’t chase it out. So what do I do? I start to run.
I start telling principals I’m in over my head and that I don’t think I can do a good enough job for these kids. I cry in the shower; I ask God if I misunderstood and if I’m doing this for the right reasons. In the end, I dropped one of the high schools, keeping middle school and one high school class. It means that every other day I only teach one 90-minute class and the rest of my day is free. The other day, I have a full middle school schedule. Since then, I’ve calmed down, my head isn’t spinning as fast, and I feel like I’ll have time to cover all my World Race responsibilities and work on my own classes. And I have time again to spend with my favorite three-year-old, who I will miss immensely these 11 months. I actually managed to come out of this without feeling guilty that I was unable to do all that was expected of me, all that I thought I could handle.
Luckily, I had people on my side who understood why I needed to let some of this go. But it didn’t come easy. There were tears, apologies, prayers, and probably some hard feelings on the other end. But I feel good in my decision. I feel stronger. It feels like an opportunity again, rather than a burden that could have worn me down right before the biggest year of my life. Some might see it as quitting; as failure. But I see it as me learning not to block my own shot. If I didn’t quit doing one thing, I think I might have failed at everything. So this is better.
I tried to handle all three, I really did. But in the end, it was too much and I got clobbered on the way up. The good thing about getting fouled during the shot, of course, is that you get a second shot even if you miss the first one. I missed the first shot. But I’ve got my elbow at a right angle, my left hand supporting the ball on the side, and I’ve got a good feeling about shot number two. So let’s play ball.
*Author’s Note: Are you tired of my metaphor-ridden blog posts?
