Go shawty. Its yo birfday.

I wanted to say something profound and revelatory on my birthday today. But, I've got nothing. I am in a good place after a really long, hard, crazy and transitional year. It has been a roller coaster of successes and failure, and whatever you call the moments in-between. Here are a few pictures that capture those moments of my 21st year of existence.

They let me control my own classroom for the first time. Bad idea? Or best idea ever? You decide.

I got to spend another summer growing on the Island with my friends. Miss them a lot. 

I live (and take underwater photos) with my five best friends in an awesome home. I've recently taken to calling our house "Testosterhome." Ya dig?

I graduated from college and started my new job, which I love. SCORE.

I got to witness my two worlds, my community and my work, collide in a really beautiful way. 

Its been a great and challenging year. Here's to another. 

Peace, love and celebration, ya'll. 

Seth 

Love remembers.

Right after I finish the last page, I like to read through my journals to see where I've been for the last couple of months. My most recent journal, spanning from early August to early November, is full of whiny, hopeless entries. Throughout I reflected on the reality of change; change in social status, relationship status, career status, community status.

My first post, entitled Remarkable, comments on the drastic changes that a life can go through in such short time frames. If you're close to me, you know my life has been chalk-full of big shifts recently. 

And I think a huge one happened last weekend when I was driving for over nine hours. I was contemplating my spiritual life, accompanied only by the sound of tires rolling on open road. I thought about the habitual and reoccurring sins that I commit and why I return to them time and time again. I've taught myself to hate them, so why do I never listen to my own teaching? I've always been told, and my journal reflected this, that we are to despise our sin. One pastor that I've been sitting under recently said this phrase:

"I pray that we learn to despise ourselves."

I wrote it down immediately, and responded with

REALLY? What would the repercussions of that be?

I answered my own question with words like

Self-hate, guilt, no real change, sadness, poor self-image, hopelessness 

All words I would use to describe my life in August, September and October.

The other night I told a friend something that went like this:

The evil one is trying to make you hate yourself. He hates all of the good that he sees in you. And, in turn, you hate him. But love is stronger than hate. Love conquers, hate cowards. Love renews, hate reminds you of failures and shortcomings. Love perseveres, hate harbors bitterness and tears. 

I realized that maybe the answer to overcoming habitual sin in my life isn't despising myself. Maybe the answer is learning to love God more than I hate my sin. 

Because, after all, love is more powerful than hate, isn't it? And if I learn to love my creator more than I hate my lust or selfishness or judgmental attitudes or addictive tendencies, I can tell the spirit of lust, selfishness, judgment, and addiction, 

"Although I want to give in to you, today I choose to love and remember my God." 

Love conquers, hate cowards.

Love renews, hate reminds. 

Love perseveres, hate harbors. 

Love remembers. 

Osmosis Jones

I may be jumping the gun by saying this, but...

I LOVE MY NEW JOB. 

Seriously, though. I feel like I am actually teaching them something. They are learning. They are laughing. They are expanding their horizons. They are  growing.

Huh.

I could say all of those things about myself, too.

I need to find a way to measure my happiness after a day of school. Some people measure it on a scale of 1 to 10. I know of a girl that counts the amount of imaginary stones that are in her imaginary red wagon. But, I need something my own; something personalized and original. So, here's my very own scale.

Anticipated Pain (horrible day): This day was so bad that I anticipate even worse things waiting for              me at home... like an eviction notice or a rabid Chihuahua named Jose that chases me down the street (true story).

Tyson Chicken Nuggets (decent day): Definitely didn't leave a bad taste, but definitely not a good one either.

Osmosis Jones (average day): Remember this 2001 animated movie? No? Its ok. No one else does either.

Shorts and Long Sleeves (excellent day): This is the greatest combination of all time.

Spanish-Canadian Coffee (astronomically unreal day): Its a once in a epoch experience. Once you've had it though, you know you've had the best there is.



Today? It was a Shorts and Long Sleeves day.



Peace, love and Osmosis Jones,  ya'll.

Seth

Exodus of Expectations

I decided to take a hiatus from blogging for the first part of the summer. It wasn't my original plan to go so long without updating, but so much was going on in my heart and mind that I couldn't adequately put it into words. And, as a writer, that's a big statement.

For six weeks, much like last summer, I worked at a summer family camp. I packed my lots of clothes, shoes, bedding, and toiletries. This summer I was in charge of organizing skits, being emcee for a few events, leading some worship sessions, playing cajon, and developing lots of the creative aspects of the camp. I was rarely able to sit through an entire meal because I was constantly performing in a skit, playing cajon for a song, or preparing something else totally fun, goofy, or absurd. 

And, as much fun as I had during those skits and songs, I have to admit I was a little frustrated. One of the largest opportunities for ministry at camp was during meals, when staff sat with families and talked, listened, loaned and gleaned wisdom about relationships, family, and marriage. And, when I left the table 10 minutes into the meal, I was often excluded from those conversations. I felt left out of the real ministry. 

I arrived at camp full of excitement and fervor, and I left weary and low. The event nights, parties and skits that initially thrilled me turned into tasks that bothered me. My heart, which at the beginning of the summer was open and engaged, soon turned hard.

I tried to play it off as if nothing was bothering me, and that my time at camp was just as I expected it would be: utterly enjoyable and full of impact. I didn't tell my friends at camp or at home. I kept it all to myself. In hindsight, that is why I didn't blog. Every time that I sat down to write, I typed things that sounded negative or too heavy and contemplative. I didn't want anyone to know what I was experiencing. 

My final week at camp, though, a friend asked me, "What are you going to take home from this six weeks that you've been here?" I wrote that question in my journal, and while reading Psalm 73 the next day, I found my answer. 

Along with my clothes, I packed lots of expectations. Oh, and I had become jealous. 

     

     "But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;

 I had nearly lost my foothold. 

     For I envied the arrogant

when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

     They have no struggles;

their bodies are healthy and strong. 

     They are free from burdens common to man;...

     

This is what they are like - 

always carefree, they increase in wealth." (Psalm 76:2-4, 12)

In my journal I wrote this. Each verse referenced in from Psalm 73. 

There are people this summer who aren't working in ministry. They aren't struggling. They aren't battling. They are carefree, and I envy that. Its hard to admit that this year is not the same. This year is not the same. Pride has been my necklace (vs. 6). I've been in the spotlight so much, and its hard for my ego to stay in check. I'm overly proud of all I do at camp. I feel often that my attempts to pursue righteousness are in vain (vs. 13).  Overall, my spirit is embittered (vs. 21). 

Despite all of this, I know that I am always with God, that Jesus the Christ holds me, and that the Holy Spirit guides me with his counsel (vs. 23, 24). I should have expected NOTHING at camp. I should have hoped for NOTHING more than an encounter with God, and growth in Christ. I should have DESIRED nothing more than that time with him (vs. 25). I know that I will continue to be weary, and that in my heart of hearts I will want to relent. But, I know that Christ's joy is my strength and perpetual sustenance (vs 26). I recognize that for me, it is GOOD for me to be near to the Lord. I will make the Lord my rest, my shalom, and I will tell of what he's doing in me, through me, and in my world (vs. 28). 

May you ignore your tendency to envy the wicked because of their carefree life. May you have an exodus of expectations. May you expect nothing in life and in ministry, except an encounter with God and growth Christ. And, may you receive Christ's joy as your strength and perpetual sustenance. 

Peace, love and a life free from expectations - 

Seth 

Just another day in paradise

So, I don't have time to tell you a lotu about Kamp, other than its been a lot different this year. My duties and responsibilities are much different, which made adjusting to this year a little difficult. But, this week has really helped me settle in to my role at Kamp, which kind of stinks because I'm a week away from leaving. However, God has made it very clear that my time here at Kamp was to be shorter this year, and I'm excited and thankful for what he's doing at Kauai this summer.

But, just as a little visual for you, here's a snippet of a typical day at Kamp. This is the K-1 Slip'N'Slide. Its 100 yards long, and its amazing.

Peace, love, and belly slides, ya'll.

Seth

Kids dicen las cosas más darndest

Mr pre-k kids are hilarious enough to be on a English as a Second Language version of "Kids say the darndest things" or "Kids dicen las cosas más darndest," as I've named it. 

In the name of cheap laughs and to help me remember, I've decided to write some of them out for you. 

Scenario 1: Its underwater animals week. I just showed the kids a pufferfish. They were amazed. I showed them how to make their faces suck in and look like a fish. They "swam" like fish all the way to the restrooms, where they are supposed to wait quietly in line until I tell them that they can enter. A cute and outspoken girl from class, Didi, smiles at me. I smile back, thinking to myself "How sweet and innocent Didi is being today." She raises her fingers to point at her cheeks and opens her mouth to speak. 

Mr. Seth! Look at my nipples! 

I flinch. Surely she didn't just say that. Inside, I'm cackling. Outwardly, I try to look composed as the other teachers walk by. 

Yes, Didi. You have very nice DIMPLES. D-D-Dimples. 

Scenario 2: Millions of kids are fighting to see the animals at pre-k zoo day. Do they run straight to the tigers to see their stripes and claws? Do they sprint to the penguins to watch them plunge into the water and plop out on their bellies? Do they race towards the rhinos to see his strange horn? No. They run straight to the most foul place in the entire enclosure: the petting zoo. We spend 30 minutes dodging goat poop, when all of the sudden, its not dodging the poop we're doing; its marveling in the act of two goats simultaneously pooping side by side. I'm not entirely sure who said it, although I have an idea. This comment rose above the rest. 

Eeeewwwww. Gross! Mr. Seth they poop so quick!

Scenario 3: The end-of-the-year fiesta is coming up. There will be beans, rice, and "divertido" galore. There's a dunk tank, carnival games, and the entirely culturally relevant Japanese  art of Karaoke. In class we encourage students to participate in everything, and maybe even prepare a song for Karaoke. One kid, Jay, we will call him, pipes up. Here's what he sings. 

You thought I would just type out what he sings? Oh no. No no no. I've got a very poorly recorded version of Jay singing his heart out. Its even sideways. That way, you can still watch him singing while you're rolling on the floor laughing. 

Like I said, ya'll: Kids dicen las cosas más darndest. 

 Peace, love, and The Cubbies, ya'll. 

The Little Things

I have a lot of little things in my life right now.

They are five years old and they all speak Spanish. They are the coolest kids ever. Last week I went wild and decided to finger paint with them. The morning class was complete chaos. Kids were painting on the tables and their aprons. They got paint on their faces and even on my clothes. It was wild, but a ton of fun.

I made some drastic changes in the plan, and went for it again during the afternoon. AND, it was fantastic. After we started, there was complete silence. They were so into painting. Instead of fingers, we used long q-tips. They experimented with mixing colors, and painted some really creative and wonderful things.

They kept asking the para and I to help them paint cool things like dragons, crocodiles, and ShinyNathan.

*Side story:
This week we studied insects and birds. On Monday morning, I caught a butterfly, brought him to class, and let the students name him. The morning class named him Shiny. The afternoon class? Nathan. One of the school's students shook Shiny/Nathan until he become... immobile.

Each week we use our "magic" to create a new letter out of paper. "Abracadabra, Kalamazoo, turn this paper into something new, WOOSH." So, to avoid approaching the "death" subject, I told them that I was practicing my magic, and I missed. I accidentally hit Shiny/Nathan's jar, and POOF. He disappeared. However, I told them that he was still out there somewhere and to keep their eyes open.

For the next three days, students came to class with testimonials of seeing Shiny/Nathan in their aunt's back yard, outside the school, in the park, and many other random places, like the produce section of the grocery store.*

So, after the painting, the students were on a creative trip. The smartest student in the class, which I told you about a couple posts earlier, told me, "I'm going to be an artist when I grow up, Mr. Seth." How awesome? Well, when his dad arrived, he told him the same thing. His dad looked at him square in the face and said, "No you're not."

And that was that.

I was slightly devastated. I spent an entire class period encouraging artistry and creativity in my students, and in one moment, a parent squashed that. I felt in that moment that I could do wonderful things to encourage original and abstract thinking in my students on a daily basis, but that effort could be smashed by their parents each evening. Why do children love to color, draw, paint and be creative while adults despise the thought of it? What changes in us?

Regardless of the answer, I want to strive to incorporate that kind of thinking. I want to strive to be "that" teacher. The "loud" one. The "unorthodox" one. The "a little off" one. The "_______(fill in the blank)" one.

How can I incorporate that? Here's my first idea.

An Airzooka. Shoot it at kids that aren't paying attention, sleeping, or get an incorrect answer. 

If only that would get approved by my principals. Long shot. Going for it. 

Peace, love, and Airzookas, ya'll. 

Things I Wish I Could've Tweeted Tonight

"There's no way in hell that I'm eating aborted fetus cells."

"I don't wanna eat a chinese hamster ovary."

"Another reason not to name your son Tucker. His four year old handwriting will make his name look like "*ucker."

"Guys, I had the best poop of my life today."

"I haven't had much luck with South Koreans."

The list will grow and grow and grow. Expect more installations of "Things I Wish I Could've Tweeted..."

Peace, Love and #Hashtags, ya'll.

Seth

Thankful.

It finally happened. After planning for days, requesting and collecting 45 donated kites, tracing kite cut out, organizing 18 high school volunteers, rounding up 20 college volunteers, four batches of cookie dough (three of which I had to remake), two hours of rolling, cutting and baking, several attempts at just the right frosting colors, and a thousand prayers, it finally happened.

Kite day happened.

And, despite the rain and murky day, it was INCREDIBLE. We read a really hilarious book, got some one on one reading time, made a decorative kite, and decorated two delicious sugar cookies for a snack! Then, they received their VERY OWN kite to take home and fly with their families. How cool.

My high school students did a great job interacting with the kids and helping them get everything decorated and assembled. The kids had a really great time with them!

However, my college friends knocked it out of the park. I've never been more proud of my friends. They rose to the occasion and showed up ready to serve and ready to love those kids. And that's exactly what they did.

I saw my two worlds collide. I often catch myself talking with my college friends entirely too much about my students. I often think, "I'm sure they don't want to hear this, but..." But in all honestly, that is my life. School and teaching are my reality. I devote eight hours each day (Who am I kidding? 12+ hours) to my students. When that much of your thought is devoted to one thing, you're bound to talk about it.

I wasn't expecting what happened at dinner, though. I sat with a couple of my best friends who volunteered, and I found them doing the exact same thing I did!

There is something about a child that is infatuating. Their innocence, curiosity and honesty pull us in and intrigue us. They steal our hearts quicker than it can beat.

When we spend any significant time with them, we can't help but reflect aloud and talk about them.

Today, my buzz word is thankful. I am so thankful for the 20+ people who purchased a kite for this special day. I'm thankful for my high school volunteers who instigated this day. I'm thankful for my college friends who loved the kids with such ferocity. I'm thankful that God provided the means and inspiration.

So, instead of another written thank you that can often seem empty. I'll let the kids tell you.

* This is Victor's thank you note. Apparently he views himself and his volunteer as a mixture of Patrick from Spongebob and Pooh. Also note that victors hair flows seamlessly into his rainbow. If only he had drawn skittles.

*This is Dorian's thank you card. I swear children's book authors need to look no further than children's drawings for inspiration. This could be a story about two boys desperately fighting their way through our cruel world with no necks... or torsos...or shoulders...or hips.

Peace, Love and Thank You!

Seth

Peace, Love and Change, ya'll.

So much happened in Houston this week that it will be difficult to put into words. Here's is sort of an overview of what impacted me the most.

1. Our first night in town, the group took a tour of the city and was informed about how we could pray for the city and its people. Although this was my third prayer tour of Houston, I become extremely overwhelmed with the amount of things to pray for:

-> The relationship between homosexuals and the church

-> The human trafficking industry

-> The human traffickers themselves

-> The poverty of the city

-> The homeless of the city

-> The fatherless children of Houston

-> The single parent households

The list goes on and on. I became angry. I questioned how it was physically possible to pray for all of the things that needed prayer. I questioned how to even pray for those things. What do I tell God? What do I ask of him? I felt frustrated that although I would pray for these things, it was likely that I will the never see the impact of those prayers. To be honest, I felt that some of those situations would never be solved in my lifetime. I guess you could say I questioned the value of my prayers and the willingness of my God to answer them.

2. I expected to reconnect with my friends, but that didn't really happen. Since I am student teaching this semester, I haven't been around my best friends a lot. Most of them were on this trip, and I wanted to rekindle friendship that I feel have weakened this semester.

The cards were not in my favor. I was with mostly new people. This seemed pure nonsense because I am graduating in May. Why forge new relationships when I won't be around to follow through with them? is what I was thinking.

I dedicated a whole page of my journal to three words:

The fringes suck.

3. Open Door ministry was my first site. I was blessed to sit and talk with a 23 year old man named Stephen, who was recovering from an addiction to alcohol and crack-cocaine. He began drinking and smoking Marijuana when he was 14. Our conversation started when I asked him about his tattoos. I could hardly believe that he was merely 2 years older than me and was already going through such crisis. It was scary.

He has been clean for almost 3 weeks. This was such a picture of hope for me. However, this hope would be questioned later in the week.

4. My last ministry site was Crossroads, a breakfast, lunch, and basic needs center for homeless men and women. I was lucky enough to sit at tables and talk with the people at Crossroads. After talking with Terry and various others, a new face sat beside me.

"Seth," he said, reading my name tag. "That's a Biblical name; a son of Abraham."

"Third son of Adam, actually," I told him, smiling.

"Ah. Well Matthew, MARK, Luke, John. My name's Mark, maybe you're familiar with that name," Mark said, smirking.

Instantly I knew he was a joker. After making me laugh a lot, Mark pulled out his wallet.

"I was panhandling on the corner this morning, and a woman stopped a gave me 30 bucks," he said, showing me three 10 dollar bills.

"What are you going to spend it on, Mark?"

"Crack," he spat without missing a beat.

His head tilted back and a cackle left his throat.

"How dare you," I thought. "How dare you spend that money that was given to you. You accepted it under false pretenses, telling this woman that it was for food and clothing."

"You see," he said, "I like to build clientele. If I stand in certain spots on a regular basis, the same people are sure to pass by. I tell a few jokes, make them laugh, and take their money."

Later in our conversation, I felt prompted by the Spirit to ask very honest questions.

"Why do you smoke crack, Mark?"

His head did a double take. He swallowed his coffee hard before responding. "To stop shooting heroine."

"Do you want to stop smoking crack, Mark?"

"Yes and no," he said as if he had thought about this before.

"Explain," I demanded.

"Well, Seth, I have no skill set. I have several felonies, and no one wants to hire a guy like me. Also, what else is there to do? I don't know how to do anything but smoke crack and take people's money."

He abruptly changed the subject and asked me about my family.

"Its interesting, Mark. My mother's side of the family lives in relative poverty, and many of my family members struggle with drugs and alcohol." I told him, giving him an honest response, much like the ones I anticipated from him.

"Oh, so there's no hope for them," he said, picking up his coffee and sipping it.

"I refuse to believe that Mark," I said sternly.

Just after that, I was called away from the table to work in the back room. Before leaving his company, I shook his hand and told him that it was a pleasure to meet him. Remembering my experience with Stephen earlier in the week, I looked into his eyes and said, "There is always hope, Mark."

"Meh," he said, shrugging his shoulders and turning away without returning the formalities.

I dwelled on his "Meh" and his body language for the rest of the trip. It was crushing.

5. The nonsense above about being upset by my group selection was dispelled on Friday. The above scenarios and experiences would have never happened had I been placed in a different group. Because I was in a different group than Tasha, she was able to have some really incredible and life-changing experiences.

I got to watch my best friend find herself. For the first time, she is discovering herself and her passions. I stand with her, and am on her side even when those closest to her are not. She is stability and support in my life. I am so proud of her, and I love her more today than I ever have.

So, as you can tell, it was a doozy of a week. God is breaking my bitter Spirit and crushing my recent disinterest in him. The most memorable words that came out of my mouth this week were:

"I can't wait to be different."

And its true. I physically CAN NOT wait. Waiting would be in direct opposition to the momentum of this week.

So, here's to changing.

Peace, Love, and Change, ya'll.

Seth

Focus

So, these pre-school kids that I've got are a riot. Here are a few stories for you all. Obviously, all of the names are changed.

1. My five year old friend Eliza might possibly be the creepiest girl on the face of the earth. At first, she was kind of cute; turning around and staring at me while she was supposed to be listening, hugging me in the morning, and smiling strangely...until that became all she did. Seriously, Eliza is obsessed with me. She hugs me when she walks in the door, when we're singing, after centers, before she uses the restroom, after she uses the restroom. Literally. Every second she can, she sneaks a hug.

I've been deemed by my teacher as the official go-to man for tying shoes. So Monday, My other friend Kayla is across the library and screams, "MR. SETH. MY SHOE IS UNTIED!" So, naturally she runs over, I tie her shoe, and she runs back. I turned back to keep perusing the books, but suddenly felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned my head to see Eliza, smiling creepily. She looks kinda like this.

Without saying a word, she signaled to her shoes. They were both untied.

And I don't mean, "Oh Mr. Seth! I was walking and I stepped on my own shoelace and it came untied on accident," or "My friend thought it would be funny to pull one string and pull the bow out," kind of untied. Nope. They were perfectly untied, laces neatly pulled apart and even unlaced through the topmost hole.

I looked at her and said, "Eliza, did you untie your shoes so that I would have to tie them?" He lip quivered and tears welled in her eyes. "I'm not mad at you! I just want to know." She sniffled and quivered some more, but never let a tear drop. When her shoes were tied, I stood up. She started to walk away, then thought better of it, turned around and hugged me.

Touche.

2. There are always those really bright students. In my class, his name is Jay. Jay's best friend is the animatronic dinosaur from the "Dinosaur Dance," and they both definitely know how to boogie. My first impression of Jay was him correcting me. "Oh Jay, that's really neat. Good job. Write your name on it and put it in your box."

"Its called a cubby, Mr. Seth."

Ah. Ah-ha.

Well, the other day we were talking about /b/ /b/ B words. Words like, ball, bat, bag, big, brown, butter, boat, bottom, and many others were mentioned. Jay mentioned "boy," which I extended to boyfriend. The kids, with attention spans like those of chihuahuas on speed, quickly switched it to "girlfriend" and started giggling and laughing. Jay immediately spoke up.

"I have a girlfriend. Her name is Katie, and she's very pretty."

My teacher was gone doing testing, so I filled her in on this tidbit of information. Today in class, she said, "Jay, I hear that you have a girlfriend."

Jay looked straight down and colored beautifully within the lines: something that he's actually really bad at.

"I know her," she said, "and she is very, very pretty." She continued to look at him.

Jay dropped is crayon, look her in the eyes and said, "Miss. I need to focus on my work right now."

He's so grown up already. Separating work and personal life. Makes me so proud.

Peace, Love and Kites, ya'll.

*Speaking of Kites, buy one for my students. They'll fly them and then take them home. They will LOVE it.

Happy and Fulfilled

How do you adequately put into words one of the best experiences of your life? That is what I'm wrestling with this morning. The last two months spent at my high school have sped by. People frequently asked me, "How is student teaching going?" The response that I created to answer them morphed quickly into this:

"I leave everyday feeling happy and fulfilled."

That has to mean something, right? For me, that is the biggest confirmation that I am following the path that God desires for my life.

Some of the best moments of my student teaching at the high school level are:

1. Playing djembes in class.

The students, after learning a little about "la bomba" got into a huge circle and tried to recreate the drum beats. Their musical skills shone through, and I was really proud of the way they jumped in head first and wanted to play! We did tick off the neighboring teachers. But hey, If you never get yelled at, you're not doing your job right.

2. Dissing my students.

As you can imagine, my students think they are funny. They often try to throw out witty lines, to which I frequently respond in a sarcastic or cutting way. Maybe not best practices, but it gains the respect of the students because I can connect on their level. For example, while working on researching for our oral reports, several students had their chemistry website pulled up. My monologue went something like this:

"Wow, Tim. Seriously, wow. I knew you were an ambitious students, but incorporating chemistry into your Spanish music oral report? That is borderline crazy! Do you know how much more vocabulary you're going to have to learn for that?! Oh, what? Oh? You're not going to incorporate it? Oh, well then I guess you better get off that website and stay on task."

3. Talking about pop culture.

One of my favorite moments of the whole experience was when I sat the students in a circle on the floor (just like kindergarten) and talked about the meaning and purpose of music. We talked about artist like Adele, Justin Bieber, and the Beatles. However, the best part for me was talking about the political aspects found in Lupe Fiasco's music. It was powerful conversation entirely in Spanish. The students really showed up that day.

4. Giving away a Christmas tree.

If you don't already know about this one, check out this post. Classic.

5. Salsa dancing.

Monday was the COOLEST. My friend Jenny came to class and taught the Spanish 3 students how to do some basic salsa moves. She was charming and funny and we learned so much! The students raved about it the next day. The best part was watching the guys. To say that some of them had two left feet is an understatement. It would be better to say that both left feet were missing a toe and that each weighed 400 pounds. They stomped and scuffled and shuffled; it was pure entertainment.

6. Making original music videos.

When I began planning for this unit, I decided to let students make original music videos. They took the idea and ran with it. It is so fulfilling when students rise to the challenge and create something really special. Here are a couple videos that I love! They did a fantastic job.

As you can tell, we had a great two months.

Now, to all the students who creep on me and are reading this:

Thank you. Thanks for allowing me to be in the class and to learn alongside you. Thanks for respecting me and understanding that there is a fine line between teacher and friend. Thanks for making me laugh on a hourly basis. Thanks for jumping on board with my vision and soaring. Thanks for being such a fantastic group of people to work with. I am a lucky, lucky teacher.

Peace, love and pursue your passions, ya'll.

Mr. Bro.

!Feliz Navidad!

School was a trip today... in a really good way.

My Spanish 3 students are currently working on demonstrative adjectives and pronouns (aka "this, that, these, those") in Spanish. I placed three gift-wrapped boxes in the room and asked three volunteers to choose from this box, that box, or that box way over those.

I left the contents of the box a mystery. They could be empty, contain a million dollar, or a barbie. Who knew?

The first volunteer got an expired Spangles coupon and a sucker.

The second received a beautifully empty used picture frame.

The third - oh the third - received the best gift of all:

A two-foot tall fiberoptic Christmas tree complete with ornaments.

Oh yeah. She bragged about it the rest of the day.

In my Spanish 4 class I gave the students the chance to tell their teacher what to do for once! They were working on how to form commands in Spanish, so I decided to have some fun. Each student wrote two commands and threw them into "The Bossy Box." If the command was completely correct, I had to do what it said. If it was incorrect in any way, they had to do what it said.

Needless to say, I embarrassed myself a few times. I combed a student's hair, sang a riveting rendition of "Man in the Mirror," and ran around the room yelling, "I'm not intelligent."

I thought that was fun. But what was more fun was watching my students do the things that they thought I was going to have to do.

One girl has to bake me a fresh batch of cookies.

Another will speak in a southern accent the entire class period.

One of the fellas had to admit that he secretly loved K-State, which made him visibly sick. (ha!)

One student will perform "Part of Your World," from The Little Mermaid to begin class tomorrow.

I can't wait to eat my cookies, call on the Texan all class period for answers, and be serenaded by the sounds of The Little Mermaid.

Tomorrow is looking very, very bright.

Peace, Love, and Adventure, ya'll.

Seth

I see you.

Most people categorize high school students as unmotivated creatures with little creativity. Not the students at my high school. Oh no sir. They have an uncanny ability to take an everyday object and turn it into something really, really special...something their parents and the community would be proud of.

I see you, high school students. I'll forever be trying to "get on your level."

Peace, love and creativity, ya'll.

Seth

Oh, mother.

My mom is a saint. However, I haven't always believed so. As an meek and submissive middle child, mom always heaped the chores onto me instead of my rebellious older brother and mouthy and argumentative younger sister. Each time she did, my ears turned red with anger. I often imagine a cloud of steam rushing out of my ears and swirling in a cloud above my ten year old head.

I will say, though, that as I have gotten older, my mom has made viable attempts to become more hip and "with it." Her most recent endeavor was to master the art of texting so that she could reach her children when they didn't answer her 17th phone call of the day, which was probably just to ask them some trivial question like, "Did you remember to buy groceries this week?" or "Do you remember that your great-aunt's birthday is three weeks, two days, and 6 hours from right now?"

I appreciate her attempt. I really do. But, if calling her a master of texting was the truth, and the truth came in the shape of the popular 90's toy stretch armstrong, his arms would be helplessly stretched to the point where you can see the tiny beads that make up his malleable extremities.

I say all of this because I've noticed a pattern in my mom's texting. She has no idea how to turn the capitalization key on or off. She does it by accident. So, I consequently imagine her yelling these things at me. Recently, I've received messages like,

"Call me when you have a minute. NOTHING BIG. DON'T WORRY OR ANYTHING."

and, when I told her that a movie was good, she said,

"Is it? I BOUGHT THE MOVIE BUT HAVENT WATCHED IT YET," as if to tell me to get off her back for not having seen it.

Another favorite is when she inadvertently screams how she feels.

"That's nice. I MISS YOU AND I LOVE YOU AND I WANT YOU TO COME HOME SOON.

I secretly hope she never figures the caps key out. I also secretly hope that she doesn't even realize that she's doing it. In this case, her ignorance is truly my bliss.

Peace, love, and Paula Deen, ya'll

Seth