10 Years From Now

At the Homecoming football game last Friday, I had a rude awakening. I learned what one former student remembers about me. She was thrilled to tell me this story of how I influenced her. I was a tiny bit appalled. Here was the conversation:

student: "Hey Miss Hardeman! I was literally just talking about you in my English class today."

me: flattered "Oh yeah? Why is that?"

student: "My professor returned our essays and said they were okay but we must learn how to spell "lose" and "loose."

me: "Yeah, that bothers the heck out of me."

student: "I know. And I remembered how you taught me the difference."

my thought process: "Oh no. What did I say? I know what I am thinking but PLEASE tell me I didn't tell that to my class."

student: "I turned around and told all the kids around me how you taught me the difference."

me: growing more frightful "Um....what did I teach you?"

student: "You know- how loose has two "O's" because loose girls have two big boobs.

others in group: laughing incredulously.

me: red in the face "That's what I was afraid of. I seriously told you that? That is so inappropriate. I am so sorry."

I left that conversation shaking my head at myself. "Really Katie? What were you thinking? That is how that poor girl remembers you." And this got me thinking about what my kids will remember about me in ten years. My ten year reunion was this past summer and I realize now that I only have fuzzy memories of my high school teachers. Here's what I remember:

* Mr. Roach was a grumpy old man who told cheesy jokes that I laughed at really loudly because I love cheesy jokes. I think it helped my grade. He also squirted people with a water gun when they slept in class.

* Mrs. Gregenski was a cute young Chemistry teacher who had bangs and once said, "Here are your testes," when she passed out our tests and then covered her mouth and was super embarrassed. I had to ask my friend what "testes" were.

* My freshman English teacher- I don't remember her name but I will never forget how she ended her sentences with "and, and, and." It drove me bonkers. I kept a tally of how many times she did it every day.

* Mrs. Burgard was my elderly Spanish teacher who terrified me and waddled like a penguin.

* My Biology teacher wore a frog necklace, dissected a frog and rumor was that she didn't wash her hands after dissections. I have an image of her eating a sandwich in class while I was aghast and gagging.

* Mrs. Lewis was an English teacher who was brilliant and beautiful and funny. I wanted to be like her. She once bobbed her head like a chicken and I made a smart remark about it from the peanut gallery. However, she heard me making fun of her and called me out on it. I felt terrible.

* Mrs. Chu was a math teacher with an awful red perm who played Abba's "Dancing Queen" often when we came into class. I became a fan. Not of perms.

* Mr. Saint Claire was the Econ teacher who girls swooned over. He once caught me ditching his class when I came back to school for practice. He asked where I had been and I lied and told him I had diarrhea. I saw him years later and almost confessed. The guilt has been eating at me.

* Mr. Zoeweta was my Senior English teacher who I was pretty sure was a genius because he listened to jazz music and used really big words. He wore fedoras and spoke really slowly and once gave me a C on an essay and I never forgave him for it.

These random snapshots are so clear but I saw these people on a daily basis for a year and don't remember much else. This forces me to wonder how my own students will remember me. What snapshot will stick with them? Here are some snapshots I fear they will remember:

* How I got irritated with them and threw whiteboard markers at them. I nailed one boy in the chest this week.

* How I made silly faces and was friends with other silly teachers. The following two pictures are from Spirit week.

* How I wore tall wedges and often rolled my ankles in class. Or how my legs often fell asleep when I crossed my legs too long and would stumble trying to walk to the podium.

* How I cried in class. Cried while I was reading aloud and just kept going. Or cried while watching The Crucible or Dead Poet's Society.

* How I had weird friends and awesome nephews who were the subjects of many of my stories. Much to Heidi's chagrin. I recently told them this one about Vander: He was in the bathroom and let loose a fire of toots. Heidi commented to him that it sounded like a machine gun. As a weapons fanatic, this thrilled him and a huge grin spread across his face. "I'm fighting a battle with my butt!" This soon-to-be 4 year old is too clever for his own good. Heidi and Dan are trying to curb the bathroom humor but are fighting a losing battle when the boys have an aunt like me and uncles like Trent and Travis.

* How I said "shit" in class. Just once. Okay twice. But the first time I was quoting a priest. A fellow bridesmaid and myself were talking with said priest before the ceremony. He had just signed the marriage certificate and was standing over a table with a candle. You know what's coming next. He set the paper down next to the open flame and in the next moment, it caught fire. "Oh shit! G D it!" And then he madly attacked the blazing document and soon had quenched the flames but not before looking at us in shame and embarrassment. It is one of my all-time favorite wedding moments. I told this story to my class the next week because it was too classic not to share and totally applied to what we were talking about. That last part was a lie. But I owed them a good story since we were having a snooze-fest grammar lesson. The second time I said "sugar honey ice tea" was yesterday. I was having a terrible, horrible, very bad, no-good day and felt like screaming, crying, and strangling anyone in my path. At the pinnacle of this awful day, sweet little freshman Jerry snuck into my classroom. Buried in papers and stress and worries, I didn't notice. I thought I was alone in my room and I realized yet another mistake I had made that day and out slipped shit. Three of them. Bam, bam, bam. Quietly but loud enough to reach innocent Jerry's ears who had magically appeared by my side. When I looked up at him, his eyes were wider than .... I can't think of an adequate simile so let's just say that his eyes were very wide. I'm pretty sure that in 10 years, this is the memory Jerry is going to remember about me. Splendid.

* How I was blonde and had many blonde moments. The topic of "shakes" was brought up in class the other day so I had to tell them about a recent mishap which I blamed on my hair. My friend's husband told a story about how someone brought him an In-N-Out shake. Most might think, "Oh, like a chocolate or strawberry shake from In-N-Out. Those are delicious." Not me. I cringed and said, "Nasty. He brought you a hamburger shake?" The look he gave me is one that I sadly, often receive. Utter disbelief and mild confusion. "Is she serious? Surely she is not." I was.

* How I let a boy keep a kitten in class. This happened today, the day after my terrible, horrible, very bad, no-good day. I felt awful that I had been so impatient with my classes so I was determined to do better. In my morning devotions of the terrible day, I had read 2nd Peter 1:3-4 which says: ³His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. ⁴Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.

Clearly, God knew I was going to face opposition and needed to be reminded that I had the power to overcome the irritations and stresses and still glorify Him that day. I failed. I re-read those verses today and realized what God had been trying to prepare me for. Sometimes I can be pretty dense. I have the power and ability to "participate in the divine nature" but I have to be a willing party. I have his "very great and precious promises" but I have to remember these and meditate on them when I just want to scream and when my small, molehill-sized problems seem like mountains.

That being said, I came to school today with a renewed sense of purpose, intent on being loving and gracious towards my students. So when a boy brought in a tiny meowing kitten and asked if I had a box he could put it in, I said sure. He had rescued the abandoned stray from behind a vending machine. I taught an entire poetry lesson with the background sounds of a surprisingly loud meowing kitten.

In reflecting on these snapshots that students might remember, I am trying to make it a daily discipline to realize that I am in a position of influence. I have a unique opportunity every year to point 100 plus teenagers to Jesus. What a sweet job! Every day I must remember this; remember why I'm on earth and why I'm in room A1. So yeah, they'll probably remember some random fact, some embarrassing moment, some inappropriate comment, some odd quirk about me. But I am making it a goal that they also will remember that I loved the LORD deeply and had an intimate relationship with Him that I couldn't help but talk about. I want to model for them what it looks like to walk with Christ and live the abundant life. I cannot grow stagnant and complacent if, for no other reason, because I can't let down my kids.

I hope that my students remember that I loved them and cared about how they grew as students but more importantly, as followers of Christ. I hope they don't just remember the days I was cranky; but rather, they are left with the impression that I was usually filled with His joy and peace and hope. I hope that they don't just remember how I gave them a detention for copying homework but how I set high expectations for them and held them accountable- that I was strict but offered grace. I hope that they don't just remember that I loved Africa and movies but also that I loved my God and my school and my job and them.

Maybe they'll remember all this. More likely they'll remember when I dressed like this: