April 2020 at the Alspaugh's

April is always a month full of special celebrations in our home, though it seems to be a hard month every year, as well. This year proved no different, as we happened to spend it in quarantine.

April 10th, Mike and I celebrated our 21st wedding anniversary, 4 days after celebrating our 26th dating anniversary. This year, rather than going out together, we celebrated as a family by ordering take-out from our favorite restaurant. Then Juan disappeared and came back with banana splits for all of us. And my anniversary gift? A new office chair for my new home office, aka--my bedroom.

April 14th, we celebrated Julian's 27th birthday, making sure he knew he was loved and never forgotten about, though he's living far away in Buenos Aires, Argentina, far from both of his beloved siblings. We walked to the grocery store to get milk and came home with a pie. :)

April 18th, four days later, we celebrated Laura's 18th birthday. Juan went to the store to pick up medicine and came home with a cake to celebrate his sister, specifically to celebrate the last of his siblings to become an adult.

In addition to our celebrations, David and I have found several things to do together to pass our time. We've taken up biking and have ridden over 50 miles together (he's ridden a bit more than I have). I took a tumble over a parking curb, of all things, right in front of a doctor's office and am pretty sure I broke my toe. It's put a damper on my morning nature walks for right now, but at least I can still ride, so I'm going to have to go for morning nature rides instead until my toe heals. I'll spare you the pictures of my very purple toe, but here are my nature pics that keep me inspired every day.

We've also done quite a few different photo shoots--one for senior pics that we never had done, one to show my FLAT niece from Indiana around town for her school project (like Flat Stanley), and then more of David at his high school. Kinda made me sad to realize that, although school isn't over yet, he's already closed the door on that chapter of his life at Sachse High School, knowing he won't walk those halls again.

 We showed our flat niece our church, the soccer fields where David literally grew up and then worked his first job, 

 Whataburger (a Texas thing), David's MST Elementary School, 

 Our favorite coffee shop, Rosalind, a pic with Texas bluebonnets, 

 Big Lots, Chick Fil-A

 The front porch swing, Juan's surprise at how tall she actually is, 

 and our schools, where I work, and where David went and Juan works. Now we hope she'll come to Texas to visit us some day. 

We're still waiting on a final decision for graduation, but I plan to send out his announcements this week anyway.  We truly are launching this class into the twilight zone.

I continue to work and teach from home, enthusiastically for the kids that are working, while desperately trying to keep the rest of the kids on board as their participation rates drop daily. That part is truly draining, both mentally and emotionally. So I'm having to get creative to draw them back in and keep them working for the next four weeks. I've also been working through online trainings to get my Google Level 1 Certification, busily "preparing" for an unknown future with virtual schooling. I'm glad I finally "have" the time to get the training because it's all super helpful in the classroom, as well.

Juan is battling a hard allergy season and is struggling through this pandemic away from the company of people. Watching him deal with this is just another reminder of how trauma affects the brain and keeps him behind, that "learned helplessness" that comes with having lived so much of life institutionalized. Trauma is real and has lifelong effects on the brain. While David is creatively and proactively finding new things to do to keep himself busy and active through this, Juan will sleep his day away, struggle to sleep all night, and keep himself glued to social media and/or electronic devices. It's very hard to reason with him or even have an adult conversation with him, so I'm praying fervently that God is working on his heart and will prepare him for his next steps. While it's a difficult stage to live through with him, I'm thankful he's stuck at home and not out in any kind of trouble. The good news is that he paid off all of his school loans that he got for the first three semesters of college, giving him a fresh start to go back to school or pursue a new path. He does occasionally get out, walks the dog daily, gets creative in the kitchen, rides bike with David a little, and attends a drive-in church where his best friend's dad pastors. I don't mean to make it sound all bad. It's just different with him because of the way he processes life.

I had hoped to have more time to read and write, but daily phonecalls with parents and students, slow computers and wifi while trying to upload my plans, constant texting with parents, accepting and grading work at all hours of the day, zoom meetings and google hangouts have filled my time and stretched me thin, despite being at home and not having to go anwhere.

So with that, we wrap up April of 2020 and see what May brings to this twilight zone that we never imagined we'd ever through. I'm thankful we're all healthy, though. I'll keep you tuned on graduation!

What I'm not missing

So. The school building is officially closed for the remainder of the school year. We won't have any sense of closure to the year. No goodbye hugs. No big awards ceremony to recognize each child in front of their parents. No class party. No cleaning out the room together to give them all the extra supplies we didn't end up using. No autograph books that we do on the last day to leave notes of encouragement with each child. No field trip or field trip memories. I could go on and on about all that's lost.

But you know me. There's so much to be gained, and I'm constantly reminding myself of that when this distance learning gig gets tough (and it does get hard some days). It's draining to contact parents over and over to get their child connected, to explain what they need to do, and still have little to no response. It's disheartening to spend so much time planning only to have participation drop a little bit more each week, as the district raises the expectation. It's tiring being online or on my phone all day, knowing that you need to reach out to friends and family in the evenings, but you've got parents and students needing your attention and guidance then, too. I'm truly working till 9 or 10 pm every night.

Lots of good stuff is happening, but the reality is, I really miss my kids, and it breaks my heart to wake up to videos from them first thing in the morning saying, "Ok, Mrs. Alspaugh, I miss you." Teaching online is teaching them great things and great skills that they wouldn't be learning otherwise. It's making them learn to organize themselves, to work more closely with their parents, and to be creative with technology. They're gaining confidence to video their work and explain their thinking and learning. They're problem solving their way through this just like we are. It's forcing teachers like me who were reluctant to use technology more efficiently in the classroom to realize all the potential behind it. But there's still a huge void without the daily hugs, pats on the back, simple smiles, and social interaction. I really miss those sweet little faces.

But while I'm desperately missing the physical proximity of my students, I'm NOT missing the physical proximity of my son. We went from begging him to take two days off of work during spring break to spend time as a family, thinking it was our last break together before college. I mean, summer was already packed. Graduation and graduation celebrations. Two weeks of camp (one as a leader, one as a camper). Two weeks in South Africa. Perhaps another week serving in the Rio Grande Valley. Plus working nearly full-time at Chick Fil-A and attending freshman orientation at DBU. Whew. And now here we are at home together, day after day, week after week, with most everything already canceled (or at least still up in the air) this summer, too.

We've been playing cards, playing Wii Sports, playing video games, watching movies and whole seasons of TV shows, cooking, baking, taking long walks, riding bike for miles on end, and sleeping late every day. There's nothing like riding bikes together and hearing your 18 year old say, "Remember when we....." as we turn a corner down a street we used to ride together when he was younger. And just the other day, I mentioned a senior photo shoot at a place we rode by on our bikes, and he quickly agreed. Every moment I spend with this kid, I'm eternally grateful because this time is truly a gift that I thought had already expired.

Someone started a Facebook Group called Adopt a Senior, and each Senior got to be adopted twice. Here are some sweet goodies that have arrived at our doorstep to celebrate our quarantined senior as a result of this new movement. (We adopted a random stranger, too--another Senior from another school that's headed to DBU, as well.)

Now that it's official we're not going back, we now await news on graduation, which is technically only a month and two days away. Yes, we're missing so much these days, but look at all we're NOT missing. Moments that would not have existed if things were "normal".

So, I apologize for not reaching out to a lot of friends and family. It's not that I'm not thinking about you and missing you. Parts of this job literally drain me (constant phone calls and texts, slow computers, learning new things and apps every day, zoom meetings, Google Hangouts--which can be fun and good, but are extremely draining to this introvert, etc.), and in the off-moments (the odd moments that I'm not working), I'm either reading for pleasure--because I finally can, writing for pleasure--because it's quiet, or embracing every moment of true quality time I've been gifted with this boy.

Another poem from my heart today

To the 2020 Class

(© Rachelle D. Alspaugh
04/15/2020)

Dear 2020 Senior

You weigh so heavy on our mind

Ending high school without closure

Just feels a bit unkind.

So much anticipated

Senior trips, awards, and prom

Making memories with friends,

Not stuck in quarantine with Mom.

You came into this world

While we looked back in disbelief

After the events of 9/11

Left us with unimaginable grief.

Left to wonder what kind of future

Awaited you, dear child.

How scary now to raise you here

With so much innocence defiled.

Yet your world did not include

Any pre-9/11 days

God chose you for this time

And prepared you for this phase.

You’re strong and you’re resilient

These losses will not set you back.

Instead they’ll only strengthen you

And make this class a mighty pack.

Mighty to face yet another

Future world we could not see

Mighty to change her for good,

To face challenge so valiantly.

God has purpose for your class

And now that you are grown

With that confidence we can launch you

Into what seems a twilight zone.

Dear 2020 Senior

Embrace the time at hand

Know that this season of loss

Is still part of a bigger plan.

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I sent the nations to YOU

This post has swirled about in my head since early November of 2019, the day I took this picture from a missions newsletter that came in the mail. The subtitle caught me and spoke clearly to my heart. I knew that voice well.

God had settled this issue in my heart before, but events of the last year had left me grappling with doubt once again that perhaps I'd missed it. Missed my calling, my purpose. To go into the nations. And then I heard that confirming voice again when I read that sentence. The United States has more immigrants than any other country in the world.

I brought the nations to YOU.

I heard Him say it clearly that day in early November, and I've heard Him whisper it in my ear nearly every day I got out of my car and walked across the playground toward my classroom.

My students flashed across my mind the moment I first heard it, along with all my teammates and coworkers from all over the world. I thought of all the parent conferences I've had with moms, dads, aunts, uncles, and grandparents from Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Colombia, and even Argentina. I thought of my teammates and coworkers, and fellow soccer moms and dads from the same countries as well as Venezuela, Puerto Rico, Bolivia, Nicaragua, and the Dominican Republic.

I thought of my friends from my Life Group and Bible studies from Ecuador, Chile, and Mexico, and then I remembered my own son from Colombia, along with his sister's family from Spain and France.

God took me to Buenos Aires, Argentina as a young 20-year-old to equip me to later distantly mentor a Colombian "son" who now lives and works in the same big city where I studied. I spent a summer interning as a summer missionary in Tasquillo, Hidalgo in Mexico, and now I teach a little girl whose parents grew up in that tiny, little town where she, too, visits in the summers. I went on a mission trip to Piedras Negras, Mexico, and now I have a beautiful friend I call my little sister who lives there, plus one of my current student's families is from there, too. God allowed me to work and minister for a week in Guatemala two years ago, and now three little Guatemalan students have looked to me as one of their first teachers here in the United States.

I may teach in a public school where my faith is technically banned due to separation of church and state, but that doesn't mean I can't/don't live it out in front of them every day. It doesn't mean I don't minister to them wth Jesus' love and compassion, letting God use me to mold their character. I still influence them and model a life surrendered to Jesus, and every once in a while their families catch on.

My teammates and coworkers know exactly who I am and who I live my life for. God gives me countless opportunities each year to minister to them through prayer, encouragement, and small acts of service. They describe me as having a sense of peace surrounding me, and some have even commented that I seem to have a direct connection to God through prayer. My social media makes it clear I am a Christian, and many people have told me how my books and my blog posts have helped them want to draw closer to God.

I've joined, led, and taught women's Bible studies at my church, leading hundreds of women find a closer intimacy with God over the years. I've spoken and told my story to women who aren't even a part of my church.

I've lived through broken marriage and let God use my struggles to help others in those shoes. I've experienced loss through both miscarriage and a failed adoption, and now I can give hope to others grieving the same types of loss.

Now I sit here on my front porch, while the entire world waits in quarantine through a global pandemic, and I record daily video messages to check in with my students. My daily video literally takes me into each and every student's home to tell them I love them and care about them. I pick up my phone to conference and guide parents from at least five different countries, giving them a sense of stability and comfort during a critical time in history.

Today, on my 21st wedding anniversary, I look back at that 21-year-old girl, full of dreams and plans to "follow the call" into a life of full-time missions--assuming that meant overseas or at least past the borders of my own country.

She had a degree in ministry with a focus on education and cross-cultural communication. She was equipped with the language and the cross-cultural experience after studying abroad in Argentina and interning with missionaries in Mexico. She'd researched and chosen a mission board with her new husband and had a five year plan to get onto the field as a couple. 

Satan did all he could to derail every bit of that plan, to destroy our marriage, to pull out all of our financial means, to disarm us physically, emotionally, and spiritually, to make sure we didn't follow that call. By the end of those five years, we'd already been through battle with him and felt like we'd lost. But what Satan means for evil, God meant for so much good. He allowed us to fall apart, multiple times over multiple phases. God allowed all of it to keep us from following that plan and going abroad.

Instead of sending us to live and serve in Mexico, Central and South America, or even Europe, he sent us to Texas. And rather than sending us to the nations, He brought the nations to us.

To me.

In my classroom. In my Bible studies. In my Life Group. In my own family.

Via social media. Via my blog and my books. Via my church.Via adoption. And even now, especially now, via daily videos from my virtual classroom and digital conversations, while the whole world sits in quarantine.

I'll admit the thought crossed my mind many times over the years that perhaps I missed it. Perhaps I missed that "calling" to the mission field, until God convinced that nothing can thwart his plan for me. Nothing. In actuality, he prevented me/us from going to one nation and instead sent me briefly to several nations, equipping me, in order to bring the nations straight to me.

Within any given week I usually converse at least once with people in Argentina, Colombia, Mexico, and Spain, while daily influencing whole families from at least five Central American countries. And right now, through technology, I get to go into each and every home and allow God to shine His love through me. I don't take that responsibility lightly. It's a daily reminder that I'm living out exactly who God called me to be.

Interestingly, God used a current letter from the very mission organization I'd "chosen" so long ago to speak to me today. Our calling is to follow God daily, wherever and whenever He leads, even if it's "just" to Texas.

Look for the blessings

So, I'm switching from the senior-mom-hat back to the teacher-hat and writing from the teacher heart today.

That wasn't my intention when I sat down to write a poem, but as the words came tumbling out, that's the direction they led. I fell in love with poetry and specifically with rhyme back when I was about ten years old, and I've never tired of it since. When my world gets quiet and thoughts stir in my head about something, those thoughts don't tend to fall together until they spill out in rhyme.

I can't stop thinking about just how full February felt and how it utterly exhausted me by the end of the month. I tried to add some extra personal things to my schedule, forgetting what a bear the month can be at school, but it all truly wiped me out. I couldn't wait for a week off to just relax and reconnect with my family before getting back in the race to finish the school year strong.

Gettiing through all those parent conferences was incredibly taxing, but I'm so glad for that recent strong connection with parents because I had no idea how much I'd need them to stand behind me and trust me for the rest of the school year.

I'm so glad I went on that writer's retreat, as stressful as it was to fit in, because it reminded me how much I miss when I don't take the time to write. It drew my heart back in to the one thing I enjoy more than anything, the one gift I have to give others when the world grows quiet and I grow quieter still.

I'm so glad I spent time with my mom that last weekend in February, then a day with my parents for lunch, coffee, and shopping, and then once more for tea with my mom during spring break because I had no idea it would be the last time we could physically get together for quite awhile.

I'm so glad I scratched my plans that last Friday and gave my kids a chance to shop in our class store so they walked away with a happy memory of what might have been their last day in my class. I'm so glad I sent home their Reading book we just finished, and all their old pencils, promising new ones upon return. I'm so glad I found a birthday card on the back of a Little Debbie treat box and gave it to my student whose birthday was the day AFTER spring break, a day I assumed I would see him, just to make him feel special. Little promptings I'm so glad I followed through on.

More than anything, I'm so glad I've been teaching my students since they were four years old that they are in charge of their own learning, and that learning happens everywhere, all the time, and it feels good every time we learn something new. I'm so glad I encouraged them to be creative rather than following a rigid rule of how their work needed to look.

I miss them, but I'm so encouraged by what they've shown me so far. Of course, I have students I need to call and beg for work--just like at school. But for the most part, that's not the case. On the contrary, these kids have an incredible opportunity to learn differently, at their own pace. How much they want to learn is completely up to them.  I'm not convinced that's a bad thing right now.

Behind the Current Crisis

February felt so full

My calendar was packed

Activity filled each day

Margin severely lacked.

First one weekend filled up

Then a second one claimed time, too.

When the last weekend plan came,

I reluctantly pushed through.

Extra meetings filled the weekdays

With parent conferences and SST’s,

Added student challenges, 

And testing that wouldn’t cease. 

Spring break Friday finally came

That first weekend in March.

My body thirsted for rest

As so much frenzy left me parched. 

Class had to be fun again

My kids needed a reward

All the endless testing

Had left them tired and bored.

We set up a class store

And spread all the goodies out

They spent all their plastic coins

And learned what money’s all about. 

I sent home extra books

Old pencils and supplies

The expectation to keep learning

Came to them as no surprise. 

My job as their teacher

Is to equip and to inspire

So they can guide themselves

To always learn and never tire.

To engage with a new book

And get lost in it for hours

Whether it be about real life

Or a kid with superpowers.

To practice making problems

And add big numbers up

To practice math in the kitchen

and use a measuring cup.

To find new things to learn

To problem solve all day

To create something new and fun

And make connections while they play.

That Friday when we said goodbye

With their backpacks extra full

We never could have imagined

We might not come back to school. 

Now I’m left to guide them

Through a video and a screen.

They’re the ones in charge now

As we do school in quarantine.

They’ve stepped up to the challenge

Sending pics of their notebooks, 

Videos explaining their learning

Cute photos of their reading nooks.

Their creativity blossoms

Pride in their presentation has improved

The work is suddenly organized

And their sweet comments leave me moved.

Though I set out to inspire

They now daily inspire me

With the joy they find in learning

And their boundless creativity. 

My body now feels rested

As all the rush has ceased.

I grade papers from my phone

My digital knowledge has increased.

I get snuggles from my kitty now

In place of my students’ daily hugs.

I drink my morning coffee

From my huge supply of teacher mugs.

I am still their teacher

But truly they are teaching me.

That learning looks so different

When mixed with creativity.

They’re working at their own pace

In their chosen cozy spot.

They choose different modes of presentation

Than perhaps the one I sought.

They’re directing their own learning

And finding ways to organize

Perhaps behind this current crisis

Lies a blessing in disguise.