What I Learned at She Speaks, Part 2

I cannot even count the number of papers I’ve graded over the years. Hundreds, for sure, if not thousands.

And every time I picked up a paper to be graded I thought to myself, “Just give this student something, even if it’s one thing, that will help her become a better writer.” I truly thought of the comments I wrote on students’ papers as teaching tools and an important part of my job.

Unfortunately, not all my students thought of my comments that way. I remember one guy in my class who got a pretty bad grade on one of his papers—I think it was a D. (Hey, I’m no pushover as a teacher, let me tell you.) So this student asked me if he could stay after class to talk about his grade and his paper. I spent 30 minutes after class with this student, walking him through his paper line by line, word by word, comma by comma, explaining what he had done wrong and what he could do to make his paper better.

When I had finished what I thought was a pretty thorough analysis of his paper, he looked at me and simply said, “So what if I just don’t agree with you?”

What?! Are you kidding me? I have just spent 30 minutes with you and you just don’t agree with me? I’ll be honest, I wanted to throttle the kid.

Talk about not being teachable.

But for every student like that I had ten who really wanted to learn how to improve. Those were the students who took advantage of my rewrite policy—they could rewrite any paper they wanted and I would take the higher grade of the two. Pretty lenient, I’d say. Sometimes students would get higher grades, sometimes not. It was those who really made the effort to make their writing better who improved and did well in my class.

Believe me, I know how difficult it is to get a paper back and to read, “Expand here” or “Frag” (ugh) or “Try this . . . .” I have seen students’ faces fall as they read my comments; students who had entered my classroom hopeful that day sometimes left defeated.

Did I like being the bearer of bad news? No. Would it have been easier to just give everyone an A and call it a day? Sure. But would that have made me a good teacher? Absolutely not.

Now, my students always had a chance to get even with me at the end of the semester when they filled out the dreaded evaluation form. I remember the first couple of semesters, getting those evaluations back and feeling crushed. Like I hadn’t done one thing right. I questioned my own intelligence, and I often wondered who I thought I was to actually think I could teach college students.

But after a while I came to realize that people have baggage. We all do. We bring to the table all of the junk from our morning or from our childhood or from our church. When receiving comments, we often forget to take them in the spirit the comments were intended; rather, we bring all our insecurities and our dislikes and our past failings and pile them into the reading of one simple sentence.

And when I realized that, reading evaluations became much easier. Sure, someone in the class might have wanted me to have devotions before every single class (probably because it took up five or ten minutes of teaching time!), but someone else might have preferred that I not try to impart anything spiritual to the act of writing. I suddenly realized that I am never going to please everyone. I only need to please the One who matters.

All of us who attended She Speaks this past weekend, myself included, brought baggage with us . . . and I don’t mean the kind with wheels. We all brought insecurities, deep hurts, past failings. And we also came with great expectations. Expectations of gaining new blog readers or of getting a speaking gig or maybe even of getting published.

What I learned this weekend was that sometimes our expectations and our baggage can collide in a big way, leaving us hurt, dejected, downcast.

Before I left for the weekend I knew this could be a problem for me so I prayed for a teachable spirit. Thankfully, God answered that prayer so that when my second publisher meeting didn’t go so well (AT ALL), it didn’t bother me. I just asked the editor some questions, learned a little something about their publishing house, and went on my merry way. Believe me, that would not have happened a few months ago. If I had not prayed about this, I know that my own tendency would have been to feel crushed, defeated, disheartened.

So what did I learn this weekend? I learned that, for me, my expectations need to be set low so that I don’t get disappointed (that’s baggage in case you didn’t recognize it). I also learned that I need to be careful with the people around me who might have bigger expectations than I do.

Mostly, I learned to pray for a teachable spirit. It made all the difference for me this weekend.

What I Learned at She Speaks, Part 1

I went into my She Speaks weekend feeling just slightly intimidated. I felt like God was nudging me out of my comfort zone—He has been for a while—but this was way, way out. I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend an entire weekend with a group of type-A women who had written books and spoken to big groups and who have actual readers on their blogs. All things I don’t do or have.

But I went, primarily out of obedience, and I was blessed. My spirit was revived and I left feeling absolutely peaceful about what had taken place.

This week I’m going to be writing about a few things I learned at She Speaks. Today’s lesson: A little kindness goes a long way.

Like I said, I knew NO ONE going into this weekend. Sure, I had met a couple of people through blogging, online, but that’s not the same as getting to know them in person. So when I got off the plane in Charlotte I took a deep breath and thought, “Well, here I go.”

I had to find a shuttle to get to the hotel, and as soon as I walked outside I saw a group of well-dressed women standing around talking and laughing. They could not have been sweeter as I introduced myself. I had a great time talking to Amy and Lisa (who doesn’t have a blog but hopefully will soon) in the shuttle on the way to the hotel.

As I was walking through the lobby to check into the hotel, I heard someone shout, “Shelly!! There you are!” I turned around and saw Jo-Lynne walking toward me with her arms out to give me a big hug. She had recognized me from my picture right here on ye old blog. Friends, I cannot tell you what that meant to me. First of all, I was scared, so to have someone reach out to me like that was a welcome relief. Second, Jo-Lynne is a rock star in the blogging world (I know this because she's listed in my Mom Agenda under "Mom Blogs") and I am the dung on a circus elephant’s toenail, so to have someone like her greet me so warmly was just like handing me a warm towel fresh out of the dryer and wrapping me up in it. Such a blessing.

Jo-Lynne and I chatted for a few minutes and she immediately invited me over to meet a couple of other bloggy rock stars: Tina (Antique Mommy—she’s over on my right sidebar) and Dawn. They were all heading out to lunch, so they invited me and my new friends from the shuttle to come along. Just like that I felt embraced and a part of things. It was just beautiful.

I have to tell you, that was not an isolated incident. Wherever I went I met people who were genuinely interested in me. Asking questions. Looking me in the eye. Commenting on my dress (can I tell you that I enjoyed that just a little?). Seriously, though, it is rare to find people who are genuinely interested in you and your success.

And then there’s Lysa. Dear, sweet Lysa. She’s not only a rock star, she’s a real person. I counted more than three times that she stopped and made a point to come over to me to see how I was doing. Me. Little old me. Now, I’ve met Lysa a few times, but to tell you the truth, we’ve never had an extended one-on-one time of conversation—she’s much too busy for that, and I don’t fault her for that at all. But she calls me her friend, and that means so much to me. She’s the real deal, that Lysa.

My weekend was bookended by kindness. Jo-Lynne provided the front bookend, and Leslie provided the back bookend. As I was leaving the hotel, dragging my suitcase behind me, I passed a woman in the hall and we exchanged glances. Suddenly she came over to me and said, “I feel like I have to meet you. I’ve seen you so many times this weekend, and I feel like I know you. Do we know each other?” Turns out we didn’t, but we had a couple of things in common. Like, she lived in Florida and I’m here in Illinois. You know, the usual stuff. (Just kidding!) No, Leslie has two daughters, just about the same ages as two of mine. She knew someone from Wheaton. But here’s the cool thing . . . that someone would take the time to say, “I think I’d like to meet you,” and then actually act on it.

As I write this post I’m deeply convicted. I attend a big church full of type-A women who can sometimes feel threatening to me. I feel like that circus elephant’s toenail dung so often as I walk through the hallways, wondering what I have to offer. But then I wonder . . . how many other women at my church feel like that too? And what can I do to foster an atmosphere of genuine warmth and good-cheer among ourselves, right where we are?

Before we left for She Speaks, we were encouraged to get rid of our sense of competition for the weekend. To just treat one another as beloved sisters and to encourage each other in our calling. That truly was the spirit of the weekend, and it felt rare to me. Special. And you know what? It works!

I hope that I can learn from that and transfer that feeling of encouragement to the women at my church. I would love for our huge Women’s Bible Study that meets on Wednesday mornings to be a place where women could open up, be real, be inviting, and NOT be competing. And I hope that can start with me.