portraits of a school day

I realize how little I write about school, and my students, and yet how much of my heart is in my work.

Today we had our first flurry of snow, a short-lived bought out the window during G period (ESL Biology). The students were already excited--we had just finished talking about our football rally tomorrow (try explaining THAT to students who don't speak much English), and one of them looked up and yelled, "Snow!" They were out of their seats like small children, and though we tried to stop them, it really was futile. "First! First!" a Spanish-speaking boy said to me, pointing wildly, and that's when I stopped trying to get them to sit, and simply let them enjoy the sight of this, their first snowfall.

I sat down in my office this morning to read student journals, and read these words from a Burmese refugee, a soft-spoken and gentle teenage girl: "Dear Mrs. Winchell, Greetings to you in the matchless name of Jesus...I want to thank you for encouraging me." I bet you're thinking I was touched by the comment; actually, I was amazed (and excited) she knew the word "encouraging." Small victories in ESL (English as a Second Language)-land. Another journal, and a student from Liberia talking about being beaten, and leaving a sister behind. So much joy, and so much sadness, too.

And a few moments ago, sending an email to colleagues to help to find foster homes for "unaccompanied refugee minors." Apparently refugee youth are arriving in our area soon, and are family-less, and need families. If you're a family who can love on a child (or teenager), let me know.

These kind of rhythms are the rhythms of teaching, and of involving my life in the lives of refugees and immigrants here in my city. I'm really excited about our Thanksgiving Day, actually. A colleague and I are meeting about a dozen of our ESL students here at the high school in the morning and are walking them to our city's high school football game. We were able to find free tickets for our students so that they could attend ($3 per person is otherwise money they cannot spend). Jason, Orilus, and Jackson are coming, too. A simple way of helping our students to access a school community that would otherwise remain hidden, and probably unknown to them.

After the game, two of my colleagues and I will visit a few of our refugee students' homes. I think if Jesus were going to spend a holiday, this might be how he would do it...with strangers, extending welcome, a loaf of pumpkin bread, and a warm smile. In moments like first snowfalls and sitting on a student's floor surrounded by her family and drinking chai--I really, really love my job.