Change

It's been a while. No, I didn't forget. I've been a little busy, to say the least. Teaching has been a wonderful experience, and while I have little to no time for anything else, I have enjoyed every minute of it. As I sit here trying to figure out what to write, I figure what is a better topic than the one thing that has taken up so much of my time?

My kids.

Yes, I call them my kids. I never thought I would be that teacher. I'm not that much older than many of them, but I still think of them as my kids. It's weird, but it is what it is. I enjoy them so much, and I want so much for them.

I want them to love their lives.

They are young, but I try to instill in them this idea that you must always do what you love. To never allow someone else's happiness dictate your own. That someday you will find what you love and that is worth waiting for. Get out in the world and find it because experience changes you, for better or worse. Don't sit back and watch life go by, because as most of us know, sometimes it doesn't last long. Leaving was one of the best decisions I ever made, but coming home has never felt better, either. I want them to know that I love life and that they should do whatever is necessary to love theirs.

I want them to be passionate.

One day, I was giving a speech and afterward, I had a kid tell me, "I can feel your passion. It's kind of cool." I had to smile. I am very passionate when it comes to school. I love teaching. I know this is what I am supposed to do. But I'm not just passionate about teaching. I am passionate about sports. I am passionate about books. I am passionate about philanthropy. I am simply passionate about life. I want those kids to know that in order to be influential in this life, you must show your passion and not care what others think. It is our passion that drives us. It is our passion that creates change.

I want them to care about others.

I have a saying in my class: "I don't tolerate the intolerant." I know, it doesn't really make all that much sense, but it does to me. I teach a unit on the Holocaust, and it is something that I am very knowledgeable about. What students can't understand is why people would treat others that way, and it has been very difficult to teach this. Because how do you teach a group of 14-year-old kids something that you don't completely understand yourself?

I try to convey the idea that at the end of the day, we are all human. We all have the same hopes, dreams, and fears. We should all have the opportunity to live our lives to the fullest and no one has the right to dictate that. Furthermore, we should never allow ourselves to dictate the lives of others. We will never know peace until we understand that people are people. Judging and degrading them doesn't change that. Maybe if I can teach them that they will understand what I mean when I say that I don't tolerate intolerance. Maybe if I can succeed in that, they will want to change themselves, or those around them.

Or maybe perhaps, they'll want to change the world.

Hello/Goodbye

I've called two places home so far in my life. The interesting thing about these two places is that while they are in the same state, they could not be more different. As I prepare to move away from Lawrence, I have been trying to decide how I am going to say goodbye to a place that I have loved for six years now. But instead of writing what this town and the people here have meant to me, I decided that a better way would be to show you my last six years and what I leave behind, and what I look towards in the future.

I am returning to the family that let me move 300 miles away and never once told me I was making the wrong decision.

I say goodbye to the job I took three years ago, and the people who made that job one of the best places I have ever had the honor of working.

I leave a school and program that allowed me to make such great friends along the way and those who helped me make it through the longest year...

I temporarily say goodbye to the friends that I knew before arriving, and the many I met along the way.

I am thankful for friends made in the beginning....

Still putting up with each other in the end. 

I am grateful for all of these people and countless others who have come and gone from my life in the last six years. I will miss each and every person. As I pack my boxes and prepare to leave, I am sad to go, but again, I feel so very lucky to have attended the University of Kansas and lived in Lawrence these last few years. Because what most of these people don't know is that they weren't just friends to me.

No, they were much more than that.

I left home because I wanted to find something. I know, what an age-old saying. But it is true, nonetheless. I left because I thought getting away was what I needed to do with my life. I left six years ago, only to choose to return to that small town I thought I was trying to escape.

The truth is, I don't think I was trying to escape.

I have met a variety of people in these last years, yet despite their differences, all of them have shown me what I was looking for when I left. I wasn't looking for the meaning of life, nor was I looking to break free of the "small town effect."

I was looking for me.

What these people don't know, and I guess what I am telling them now is, they helped me discover the person I wanted to be. I know how cheesy that may sound, but it is the truth. I spent most of my life being someone I wasn't before I left home, and it took me a long time to figure out who I wanted to be.

I hope I chose right.

I have found myself trying to figure out what I can say to my friends when I get ready to leave this town, and to be completely honest, I have nothing. I know that it is not really goodbye, but I also know that life will never be the same again. They have stuck with me through the ups and downs that life has thrown at us - including my many ridiculous shenanigans - and now we stand on the edge of a new era.

I guess if I had to say anything, it would be thank you.

Thank you for the tears.

Thank you for the laughter.

Thank you for the lessons.

Thank you for reminding me that home isn't always a spot on the map.

Peace, Love, and Rock Chalk...forever. 

His, Hers, & Truth

I have a friend who occasionally quotes the saying, "There are three sides to every story: his, hers, and the truth." I always thought it was a lesson about lying, but recently, I've changed my opinion on this matter.

And it all started with a 4th of July story.

I called my dad and asked him what he and my mom did for the holiday. His story went something along the lines of this: "Well, we went out to the lake and watched the fireworks. Then we sat on the patio and watched the neighbors shoot off their fireworks." I accepted this story, and even found it cute that they did these things together and thought about how thankful I was that my parents still liked spending time together after 28 years.

Then I called my mom.

Her story went a little something like this (abridged version): "Oh lord, Chesney. I didn't think we were going to make it. First, it was this ridiculous back and forth about going, and then again about what car to take. The fireworks already started before we were halfway there. He moved the truck after we already parked, and when it was time to go, he drove without his glasses because he claimed he could see better without them!"

Cue my ridiculous laughter.

I love my parents, that goes without saying. From what I know of them, the "truth" of this story is probably a mixture of both their sides, as it usually is. My parents have never claimed to have the perfect marriage, but a strength of their relationship is their ability to mix two very different people into a couple that works. Dad likes to tell things straightforward, and Mom likes to tell it how it "really was". I don't know why it works, but it does, and who am I to question the fates?

They provide a great perspective to work with.

When it comes to writing stories, one of the most difficult things to do is write from the perspective of a person that you aren't comfortable writing. It would be easy to write a story with an all female cast because writing like a girl is not difficult for me, but that would also be a very boring story. (Come on, we all love boys in stories...they add the drama, right?) One thing that I loved about writing my story was that I got to experiment with several different perspectives, and I was able to create an ensemble of people that strengthened my story line.

Stories like my parents' retelling of their 4th of July help me with my perspectives.

I realize that the quote from the beginning really is true. I still think it is about lying, but I also know it is about the way people look at and view situations. As for me, I listen to stories for the emotions they can stir in a person. I think that it is important to hear all sides of a story because you never know what you are going to get from it. Who knows, a side may just end up written into one of my stories as so many perspectives have already been...

But only I know the truth about that.

Dad

I have missed Father's Day every year for the last six years. I miss it because six years ago, I volunteered to take part in an event that has both humbled and strengthened me as a person. I spend one week out of the year in one of my favorite places on this planet, and I have the support of one of my favorite people the whole way.

I go to camp.

Because it is located basically in the middle of no where, you can assume correctly that there is no cell phone service. So every year of those six years, I find myself searching for a spot that will give me a minimal amount of service to call my dad. As always, I tell him that I am sorry that I cannot see him on Father's Day, and like clockwork, he answers,

"It's okay. They need you more than I do right now."

My mom tells this story about meeting my dad for the first time. Let's just say it didn't go well. I have always put my dad on this pedestal of sorts, and I know that it is higher than it probably should be. So it is particularly hard for me to hear about how selfish or arrogant my father was at one point in his life. I have accepted it, and despite what I know of him now, I believe it. But, lucky for the world, he changed his ways.

Mom could probably take credit for that one.

I have only ever known the giving, nurturing side of my father. I owe my witty humor and winning personality to him, but there are so many things he has given me that he probably never thought I would inherit or notice. Like the way he can sit in silence with someone without needing to fill the space with noise, or the easy way he can fill a room with laughter by just saying one thing. Or how he can watch the same movie over and over without a thought.

Or how he can say something that makes you feel like you are doing the right thing.

I owe so very much to each of my parents, and they have both given me an equal number of traits I hold dear. They teach me every day what a struggle it is to be a human, but what a wonderful life you can lead when you overcome those obstacles. But my dad has this amazing ability with one-liners, and I'm not talking about comically. We all know he can do that. What I mean is that we can be having a casual conversation, and in the blink of an eye, he will say something that stops me in my tracks.

It makes me so thankful that he is my dad.

I am a counselor at a camp for children with cancer. I have learned to react a certain way when people find this out. I never want pity, and I honestly do camp because it makes me happy. Sure, it is sad, and I do wonder sometimes how I will ever get through that week, but I always do. I do because I grew up in a household that gave until there was nothing else to give. I get through the week because my dad tells me every year that they need me more. My dad, once so self-absorbed, has taught me one of my greatest lessons in life.

He taught me how to be selfless.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Boats

A few days ago, I was driving home and I received a phone call from an old friend. She asked me if I would like to go with her and a few of our other friends out to the local lake. Apparently, her brother had purchased a boat, and even though the wind was blowing 30+ miles per hour, I answered in the only way I knew how with my friends.

Of course.

Well, the water was freezing, tubing was kind of a nightmare in the wind, and we lost a window and a pair of sunglasses. But, we laughed more than we had in a long time, sang water related songs, and told stories of our past together that we thought had been buried in the murky water of the lake. As we sat on the water, I looked at my friend, now owner of a boat, and he looked at me. The words spilled out of both of us before we could stop them.

"This is really weird."

It's funny how some people spend their whole lives trying to run from becoming their parents. I'm not saying that my friends and I do or do not want to become our parents, but in that moment, it seemed as though we were on and eerie path of familiarity. You see, a few years ago, we were all children, riding on a boat with our parents. I can remember watching our families laughing on the boat, talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

I was back on that old boat, it seemed.

After a moment of hesitation, I laughed at our coincidental comment. He smiled brightly before following up with, "Who would've thought we'd be here? Look at us...we're adults."I shook my head and looked around for a moment. The old lake was the same as I had always remembered it; I watched my friend turn the boat and take off through the water.

Just like his dad used to.

I can remember my friends and I saying, "When I grow up, I will never do that like my parents." For the most part, we have all tried to stick to those decisions, but, we are still young. Our parents have given us more than we could have ever hoped for, and there is still so much for us to learn from them. We don't claim to have the wisdom of our parents, and you know, I don't think we really mind the moments in life when we realize and accept the one thing we thought we'd want to avoid.

Some part of us realizes, however big or small those parts may be...

Ah, hell. We're becoming our parents.

I'm A Big Kid Now

I have spent the majority of my life knowing what I would do, "when I grew up." Of course, 'knowing that' is not the same thing as 'doing that.'  Countless people told me that I would be a great teacher and that I should really think about becoming one. At first, I would shrug at them and agree, but after a while, it started to irritate me that so many people thought they knew what I would do with my life. So, naturally, I began to rebel at that notion.

For a while.

I left my hometown six years ago to attend a university that was as far away from there as I could get while still in the state of Kansas. I have many reasons for doing this, but the main reason is that I wanted to distance myself from what I had always known. I wanted to find what I was really supposed to do without being forced to listen to what other people wanted me to do.

I wanted to explore my options.

And explore I did. Everyone says that the first two years in college are worthless. You only take classes that are general requirements, which is true, but I don't think they are worthless. I enrolled in a wide variety of classes that opened my mind to new possibilities and taught me things that I never would have learned in any other setting. I can make a weapon from beating two rocks together like a caveman, and even tell you what type of rocks work best; I can tell you myths and legends of a indigenous Asian tribe; I can even balance a ledger.

All of these things made me realize what I would become.

The interesting thing about education is that it is a literal melting pot of people and cultures united for a common goal. Yeah, okay, that sounded like a super hero line. But in all honesty, to be a teacher, one must have an understanding of many aspect of life and learning, not just the piece that you are charged to teach. As I looked at the document to declare my major, I thought about all my classes, and a majority were literature and cultural classes. I stared at the transcript for a moment and a thought occurred to me.

Ah hell, Chesney. You did just what they said you would.

Needless to say, I declared to be a teacher. I thought about it for a long time, and I still wondered if I was just doing it because everyone told me that I would. But after all these years studying, I realized that I was wrong to think that. I love education. Clearly, I have been in school for 19 years. But in all honesty, becoming a teacher has been one of the greatest joys I have found in my life. I have spent six years learning and training to become something I spent my whole life waiting for. So it was a surreal moment when I read an email from a professor congratulating me on finishing and wishing me the best of luck in the future.

I laughed after reading it.

I couldn't believe that I had made it this far.

Good lord. They're actually going to let me teach.

Later

I do not like saying goodbye. If you could make a career out of avoiding this, I would be the President and CEO of that particular company. I'm not really sure why I am so reluctant to say goodbye to people because once it is all said and done, I'm generally okay with them being gone. I know, I know, I'm heartless. Say what you will, but I've come to terms with my rare ability, and part of it is that I don't ever say goodbye in the first place.

I like to think of life as a book. Life is just one long story that we tell to many or no people when the time comes. Growing up, I never had that many friends that I can remember. People say to me all the time, "Oh, that's not true, you had friends." No, really, I didn't. I was always that shy, awkward girl that people knew about but never acknowledged. Sure, I had a handful of friends but it wasn't until I was older that I realized how many friends I really did have. It took me leaving before I could appreciate how many people I had in my life for support, and it will take me leaving again to make me see the full impact I've had on a person's life and theirs on mine.

I have a friend who leaves all the time. Each time this has happened, I haven't been all that upset about saying goodbye. I'm not sad because I know that she will always come back. But she's leaving again, and this time, I know she isn't returning in a few months. For the first time in six years, we won't be living thirty minutes away from each other. I know this because I'm leaving, too, and I don't know if we'll ever live near each other again.

One of the beautiful things about life is that it is never predictable. Sometimes you can count on life being the same for a while, but eventually, it has to change. I've had the incredible privilege to have some of the best friends a person could ask for in life. It took me a long time to realize that it was okay to rely on people and not constantly be worrying about how you are going to do it alone. My years in Lawrence have provided a wealth of friendships in all facets of my life, and I don't know what I would have done without them with me along the way.

In a few short months, I will have to say goodbye. I will begin a new chapter of my life, and my few years in college will soon be a memory. A very fond memory, no doubt. Recently, I was forced to say goodbye. But, in true fashion, I refused to do so.

I stood outside my home as I watched my friends hug one another and say their farewells. I turned to my friend and wished her good luck once more, knowing that it was the same thing I said every time she left. As she turned to walk down the stairs I added, "See you later," because even though I know I should really say goodbye, I'm just not the type.

Because you don't say goodbye to the people you're bringing to the next chapter.