There's Something You Should Know About Me

There’s something you should know about me...

I identify as a spiritual person. However, I don’t believe my sole purpose on earth is to convert everyone I meet to my exact way of thinking. Instead, I resonate more with the belief that God's greatest commandment is to love Him and to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

This spiritual perspective has led me to pursue careers focused on serving others. It also explains why I cherished my experience as a substitute teacher in the public school system. Substituting ultimately convinced me that I would thrive in a full-time teaching role.

One of my last substitute teaching assignments was the day before Thanksgiving break in 2023. I took a position at a small rural school as a 5th-grade teacher for a class I had filled in for at least twice before. I was familiar with the students, and we shared a good rapport. However, this class had a difficult start to the year, facing a series of substitute teachers due to the teacher's family emergency. By Thanksgiving break, the students were quite unruly, likely fueled by the excitement of the holiday ahead.

Here’s a brief overview of what I faced that day:

• A student became violent, jumping on desks and yelling, leading to a room clear.

• Another student fainted from low blood sugar due to not eating properly.

• A different student curled up under the teacher's desk, refusing to attend PE and crying.

• One student lay on the floor in a fetal position, moaning and crying, eventually tearing chairs from under classmates.

• A student got so upset during recess that he began banging his head against a brick wall until it bled.

Among these challenges, there was New Sam, the student I want to share the most about. On my first day substituting for this class, I noticed the name "New Sam" on the roll. I called it out, not questioning the name on the list.

The kids erupted in laughter.

His name was simply Sam, but he had been new, hence "New Sam." I mentioned that my brain was old, and I would always see him as "New Sam." He liked it and encouraged me to keep calling him that. Everyone was pleased.

New Sam reminded me of my youngest son, Thing 3, with his longer reddish hair, pale skin, and cherubic face. Both were a bit nerdy in the best way, and I developed a fondness for New Sam.

A classmate, whom I’ll call Silver, won the school-wide Hi-Five drawing that morning and chose a bouncy ball as his prize. Unsurprisingly, he struggled to keep it contained during class. I should have taken it away, but given the day's chaos, I decided to pick my battles. At one point, the ball mysteriously vanished, and Silver insisted that New Sam had taken it.

New Sam swore he hadn’t taken it.

However, everyone else confirmed that he had.

Tensions were rising, and I needed to act quickly. I assigned the class a task to work on quietly and warned them that I would call the principal if they couldn’t maintain calmness while I resolved the situation. I called New Sam into the hallway to hear his side of the story.

“New Sam,” I said as casually as possible, “Please tell me your side of the story.”

I wanted to nurture the rapport we had built. Then, unexpectedly, New Sam said, “There’s something you should know about me.”

“Oh, really?” I responded, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah, sometimes...I lie, and I don’t know why,” he confessed, devoid of arrogance or defensiveness, just humble and worried truth.  I could tell he was also worried about losing our connection, yet he felt safe enough to test the waters with me. 

Wow! I was honored, and I recognized this as a rare opportunity to connect with a student. I felt a surge of energy.

“Hmmm,” I mused, “I think I know why.”

“Really?” he asked, his disbelief tinged with hope.

“Yup, you lie to protect yourself. It's like fight, flight, freeze, or fibbing. I suspect you’re afraid of something, and your brain is in protection mode to keep you safe. Just like some people might get angry, run away, or freeze when they feel afraid.” I then inquired, “What do you think you were afraid of in this situation?”

He pondered for a moment before replying, “At first, I was just joking around, but then Silver seemed really upset, and I was afraid he wouldn’t want to play with me anymore at recess. He’s one of my only friends here, you know, because I’m new.”

“That’s why they call you New Sam, after all,” I joked.

He smiled back, “No, only you call me that.”

Feeling a nudge to go deeper, I asked if he’d like to hear a story about a time I lied during my own school years.

“You’ve lied?” he asked, surprised.

“Oh yes, and it was much worse than a bouncy ball.”

He was intrigued, and I shared my story with him. It’s a tale for another time—one day I’ll recount the incident when I took a first grader's prized possession after Show & Tell. For now, I can say that by the end of my story, New Sam felt better about himself and was ready to make amends.

We discussed how he could resolve the issue and how I could support him. He wanted to apologize, but also felt it was important for Silver to understand why he had lied. I assured him that Silver seemed like a reasonable 5th grader and would likely comprehend.

In the end, the two boys spoke, and everything worked out. I spotted them playing together during lunch recess.

As the day concluded and I walked the class out for dismissal, New Sam approached me and said, “Mrs. Sandwitch, thank you for your help today. I think you’re the best teacher I’ve ever had.” He then gave me a hug, which, if you know 5th-grade boys, is quite a significant gesture.

That day, I left school with mixed emotions. On one hand, the class had been pure chaos, and I felt I had done little more than manage mayhem. On the other hand, I had an incredible opportunity to connect with a student.

Some days, teaching occurs amidst the chaos. It’s vital to recognize those moments and seize the opportunities that arise. While there’s plenty of science behind teaching today, this experience highlighted the art of teaching.

It’s about taking the time to connect with another human being in a profound and meaningful way, which is a spiritual practice for me.

What an extraordinary privilege that is.

~Kristen

The Time Has Come...

“‘The time has come, the Walrus said,

To talk of many things:

Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—

Of cabbages—and kings—

And why the sea is boiling hot—

And whether pigs have wings.’" 

-Alice in Wonderland

When I was kid we lived out in the sticks and only had a used VCR with a handful of tapes that my grandfather had recorded from his cable channels.  Several of those tapes had been recorded over his old porn movies, something we did not discover until middle school.  That is a story for another time. One of the kid-friendly movies he had recorded for us was Alice in Wonderland.  I must have watched that movie 500 times.

The time has come to talk of many things…At least that is what I should have written when I pushed the pause button on this blog in 2015.  I loved writing it, and I’m not sure why I stopped now.  Except that life was complicated and I had a two, a seven, and a ten-year-old I was trying desperately to care for while navigating chronic pain and chronic financial struggle with very little extended family support.  I think of myself back then, and I want to give that young woman a huge hug and hold her hand and listen to all she was struggling with…the guilt, the trials, the pain, the feelings of inadequacy, the longing to do something great, the struggle to just survive the day, and the regret.  

I have thought of this blog many times in the last 10 years.  Few people read my blog back then, but that wasn't really why I was doing it.  I wrote it because I needed a space to have a voice. I needed to feel like my perspective was being seen. I needed to see that I still had a place for me and that I still had something unique to offer the world.

I am now teaching kindergarten, and I find I have so many stories flowing out of my heart, and I have people who want to hear them.  I have a married son going into the Air Force, a son in college studying to be an Engineer, and a son in 8th grade with dreams of his own.  All of them have asked me to finish the stories I started when they were young.  I also have students who look at me in complete mesmerization when I tell them a story I’ve concocted for them.  Then say things like, “I hope you are going to make this story into an audiobook for me,” with true sincerity and excitement.  How can I say no?

There are very few moments when teaching 22 squirrely kindergarteners that you have everyone’s full attention.  I find it’s nearly always when I’m telling a story.  Not reading a story, but telling one.  There is a difference.  My soul is in its happy place, watching those faces.

I am a writer who needs an audience in order to write.  Or at least I need to believe I have one, even if it is a fictional one.  If I am ever stuck on a deserted island by myself, I think I will "start a podcast" with a coconut audience and a palm tree for my camera. This is how I'll stay sane. I can’t write to the great oblivion.  I need specifics.  I need to feel like I am connecting with another human soul.

As I turn half a century old in five days, and am finally operating in a space with much less pain, I desire to live life in a way I couldn’t before.  I have a small window of time with significantly less pain (as my doctors tell me that after 60, things will get bad again).  I do not want to waste these moments.  It’s now or never, but if the doctors happen to be wrong, I’ll happily take whatever extra I get.  In the meantime, I want to seize my opportunity.  I want to be disciplined enough to write all the things on my heart and in my head.  I want to leave a legacy of thoughts for my kids, grandkids, and students.  

I am compelled to take up this blog and write again.  It has patiently waited for me all of these years. 

So, the time has come, once again, for me to talk of many things…of shoes and ships and sealing wax…of cabbages and kings…doesn’t that sound delightful?

Kristen

Book Review: Good Pictures, Bad Pictures

Good Pictures, Bad Pictures

Porn-Proofing Today's Kids

 

Two years ago when my then six and nine year old boys were inadvertently exposed to pornography by a neighbor boy I dove into educating myself on this topic.  Despite my best efforts to protect them from this exact type of thing, I had failed.  My heart was broken, yet I was determined to do what I needed to in order to help them through this. 

According to Internetsaftey101.com seven out of ten youth have accidentally come across pornography online and American children begin consuming hardcore pornography at an average age of 11.  On top of that four out of five 16 year olds view pornography on a regular basis.  Fight the New Drug claims they often get emails from six year olds sharing about their addictions to porn. These are frightening statistics.  Part of me wants to discount them as being overly aggressive for shock value, but then I realize even if these stats are cut in half I still don’t like the odds.  Is there any hope for my boys?  The only answer I came up with was education.  Educating our children, appropriately, at an early age is the first and most important weapon we can give them in this battle against tech-aged pornography. 

But how does one start educating a six year old on pornography?  Seems like a slippery slope.  A door that once opened can’t be shut.  This a unfounded fear and one door I don’t want my kids going through alone or with strangers.  If you are like me and want to arm your young kids with good and proper knowledge, but don’t know where to start, I’d recommend “Good Pictures, Bad Pictures; Porn-Proofing Today’s Young Kids” by Kristen A. Jenson, MA and Gail Poyner, PhD. 

“Good Pictures, Bad Pictures” is an incredible recourse for children ages 6 to 11. What I love about this book is that it is a model “Healing Story”.   It gently and appropriately introduces kids to the concept of Pornography without infringing on their innocence by using the story of a mother and son.  It describes the science behind pornography and how it is a legitimate addiction.  It helps kids understand the difference between their Thinking Brain and their Feeling Brain and how these two brains work together to protect them.  Finally, it gives children a plan of action to keep their brains safe when they do come across pornography. 

The content in this book is fairly concentrated and for this reason you may need to go through this book with younger children slowly, chapter by chapter, giving them plenty of time to digest the information.  Each chapter gives a summery and space for notes.  The book’s story line tends to be a bit young but I found that reading it silently together with my 11 year old son and then discussing it and rereading the summery out loud helped.  We also watched a video by Fight the New Drug on the three ways pornography affects a person.

This day and age pornography education is a must for our children.  It's as important as teaching them to cross the road safely or practicing stranger danger.  Luckily there are lots of great resources out there once you start digging.  Here are my recommendations for good places to start.

http://pornproofkids.com/

http://www.internetsafety101.org/Pornographystatistics.htm

http://www.fightthenewdrug.org/

 

Now go fight for your kids' innocence!

~Kristen

Elvis and The Lord's Supper

The “King” is dead.  

We got home from vacation to discover the disturbing news that Elvis, our rooster, was savagely taken by a coyote.  All that remained of him was a few drops of blood and a pile of his beautiful tail feathers.  We were all in denial.  We walked our property calling for him.  We tried luring him with food scraps.  We waited to see if he would make his way into the coop for the night.  He never did.  

That night, as we toasted to my husband’s 40^th Birthday with sparkling cider, Thing 1 calls out, “And to Elvis, the bravest rooster alive...or dead. I guess, " and we had a moment of silence for the sacrifice he made for his hens. 

All of us knew what kind of rooster he was.  He was big and regal.  He had gorgeous, clean white feathers with a bit of silver around his neck and in his tail.  He reminded us of “The King of Rock' n Roll” in his famous white and silver jumpsuit, hence his name.  He was good with the ladies, too.  He was faithful at his job.  Twice, we saw him scare off a hawk that had swooped down to snatch one of the girls.  Another time, I heard him make a sound much like a growl and then saw every single lady disappear while Elvis strutted around flapping his wings and crowing as he kept his eye on the sky.  Not only was he good with the ladies, he also never attacked me or my boys, which is why our last rooster came to meet Jesus. 

We could all very easily picture what happened the day Elvis died.  All was quiet on our property, as our rambunctious boys were all gone.  The hens were scattered about the place doing their thing, scratching, taking a dust bath, sitting on eggs, happily being free-ranging hens.  Elvis was overseeing it all with a watchful eye. Maybe he had found a juicy fig that had fallen off the tree next to the forest line, and he called his ladies over to enjoy it.  

Then something moved in the trees, and Elvis snapped to attention.  His warning call rang out, and all the girls scattered as the lurking coyote made its move.  Elvis ran to meet it.  Wings spread wide, neck stretched out, spurs ready for attack.  

He managed to distract the coyote just long enough for the ladies to get to safety.  Then, in silent horror, they watched the chase that followed.  Elvis, a Coronation Sussex, was a very large and heavy bird weighing well over 15 pounds.  He lumbered when he ran without much agility.  The coyote was easily able to overtake him as if Elvis knew what his fate had always been. It dragged him deep into the trees, where, eventually, Elvis breathed his last breath.  

Poor Elvis, he was so brave.

The next day it just so happened that I wanted to talk to my boys about Communion.  Coming from a Quaker background, my boys’ experience of Communion was mostly special occasions.  Christmas and Easter were typically where we would break the bread, drink the wine, and read about the last supper and Christ’s call to “do this in remembrance of me”.  Truthfully, I always longed for a few more opportunities to physically share in Communion together as a body of Christ.  Not surprisingly, Communion in church every Sunday is a bit of an exciting anomaly for my boys, and although I think they know (save Thing 3) what it symbolizes, I felt like a recap was in order. 

We talked about what the “Lord’s Supper” was, how Christ asked his followers to break the bread and drink the wine to remember him and what he has done for us.  I asked the boys if they understood what it was Christ did.  

Thing 1 answered, “Well, mom, it’s kind of like what Elvis did for the ladies, he died so that they didn’t have to.”  

Then, Thing 2 piped in, “That makes me sad for Elvis.  I hope we never forget him-- I love Elvis.”  

Hmmm…I could not have said it better. Sometimes, as a parent, I talk too much.  This time, I decided to let the rooster, who was appropriately named after "The King,” teach my kids about “The One True King”.

“But Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.  Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’”

~Luke 18:16-17

How have your kids surprised you with their insight and understanding?

Kristen