On Teaching and Inadequacy

I've decided I want to blog more because exciting things are happening in my life I want to remember. First year of teaching (it'll be funny eventually, right?), first time living on my own, making a life for myself. It's all great. 

 This post may start off as a bit of a downer. Stick with me, though! It'll get there.

This week I am really battling thoughts of inadequacy and feel led to share those thoughts. If you ever think you are really good at something and want to longer think that, become a public school teacher who teaches that something. Works like a charm.

There are only 15 school days left in this year. 15. And the closer it gets, the more inadequate I feel. Questions constantly race through my mind: Did I teach them enough? Did I make a difference at all? Why didn't I take them there? How could I have forgotten to do that? How will I find enough chaperones? What if it doesn't get approved? This is the soundtrack of my day. The underlying thought to all these questions is like the bass line keeping the beat going: "I'm not good enough. I'm not good enough." Over and over and over again until I'm as weary of that bass line as I am the often repeated, poorly played Justin Bieber songs continuously heard in my classroom.

The funny thing about a song getting stuck in your head is that you start singing it without realizing. When I'm warming up my choirs (I'm not good enough), when I'm teaching 12-bar blues (I'm not good enough), when I'm cooking dinner (I'm not good enough), and when I'm going to bed (I'm not good enough). Over and over and over again.

I'm sick of hearing it. I want someone to smash the stereo in my head so it won't play on repeat anymore. And that's when I turn to my Lord. In Him I find this crazy paradox that makes the cd skip just long enough to make me realize I can change the disc.

You see, my Jesus died for me because I wasn't good enough. But my Jesus makes me good enough. With that one statement, I'm able to put a new song on repeat.

When that parent calls to chew me out (You make me good enough), when I'm told how awful my decisions are (You make me good enough), when I go on an after-dinner walk (You make me good enough), and when I drift off to sleep (You make me good enough).

He makes me more than good enough. He makes me His.

So please proceed with the Bieber, excited student, I have my own new song to listen to.