I've been up exactly 24 hours now. Getting grades ready. Cause we have a one day deadline.

......... yeah ...........

It's hard just typing.

I lost some blank grade sheets, so I couldn't grade papers for a while back around 2 or 3 am or so. Saint Anthony and Jesus must love me. Or they must have realized how desperate I was. Cause I said the prayer and there they were.

Okay, this as a tactic to keep me awake is not working.

One more class. . .

It's Phlegmatic V. today.

Teaching, as a career, is so bi-polar. Or maybe I am.

One day you're so frustrated because you can't get a single student to understand one single, simple concept.

And in the next week, the students miraculously get it. The light bulb goes off. The Eureka! is screamed. The epiphany is had.

I have been preaching in my Comp. I classes all semester about certain concepts. And in 4 out of 5 essays, no one really got it. Until the last one. They all got it. They finally got it. Insert happy bootay dance. I'm not saying this to brag. But I feel like my students are a reflection of how well I teach; if they don't get it, I didn't teach it well enough. (Well, to some extent. I understand you can only give the information so many times until the responsibility of learning is transferred to the student).

And actually, as frustrating as these students were and as much "tough love" as I had to give them, I think I'll miss this group of students. I had one student say, "This has been a really fun class. I think I'll miss it."

Another girl gave me a Christmas card. (Turns out, she goes to church with me because I recognized the Saint on the card).

Another girl on her way out said, "See you for Comp. II!"

I still honestly don't know if this was supposed to be my vocation or not; I sort of haphazardly stumbled into it. But it's days like today that make me feel better about my choice.

So often though, I forget to say thanks in my prayers.

Lord, thank you for these kind and encouraging words from these students. Please give me the strength to continue teaching, and please give me encouragement if this is my vocation.

It's melancholic V. today.

I've been neglectful; I know. It's just I feel like I have nothing profound enough to post. But here's something that's troubling me.

Today, I took up short story papers. We read Flannery O'Connor's "A Good Man Is Hard to Find." If you haven't read her, she is one of the best Catholic writers of the 20th century, and I highly recommend any Catholic at least have a working knowledge of her body of literature.

In case you haven't read this story, a short synopsis goes like this: A selfish grandmother is going on vacation from Georgia to Florida with her son, his wife, and their two bratty children. However, the Grandmother wants to visit Tennessee and see an old Plantation home. It is also mentioned that the serial killer the Misfit is roaming the countryside.

Eventually, the grandmother tells a conscious lie in order to get her way. Going off the paved road causes the family to have a wreck. A carload of guys comes along, and the grandmother is faced to make a choice: accept the moment of Grace offered and reconcile herself to God or not. I won't ruin the story for you, but let's say it's bittersweet.

What's troubling to me is this: I have a student in my class. This student is catholic. This student attends Sunday mass every Sunday. But this student argued the grandmother could not have been redeemed in his or her paper. This student argued there was no salvation or redemption for anyone in the story. And basically argued that O'Connor's Catholicism, much less her Christianity, was irrelevant. All my protestant students, however, got it. They really liked the story.

I would say this student is typical of the 18 and 19 year olds who attend St. Joe's. It's worrisome because these are the children who are growing up to be future lapsed or Cafeteria Catholics. (I hate using those terms because Catholic is supposed to mean universal and one, but it's true. Even Protestants have the ability to pick out the differences. A protestant lady labeled me a 'cradle' Catholic because I don't eat meat on Friday. It's sad when protestants can and do see the division within us. But, I digress). If these kids can't even see the possibility of redemption for a selfishly- motivated character in a fictional story, how can they even imagine redemption for themselves? Even more troubling, what do they really believe? Are they just going through the motions? Doing what mom and dad said to do? Do they really know the love of Jesus or is it just a superficial relationship? It breaks my heart to consider the answer to these questions.

Moreover, I feel like a failure as a teacher. One of the ways I can best witness the faith is to teach O'Connor, to educate the ignorant boys and girls, (some are even from our own flock! I once had to explain to a Catholic girl why we fasted before the Eucharist), about the Catholic faith. I never push it on them - I simply explain O'Connor's, the Catholic's, world view (with falling into sin, the moment of Grace experienced when repenting, and restoration and salvation of one's soul after confession and Eucharist) and let them ask the questions. However, if I can't even change the opinion or reach one of our own, what good am I? This is supposed to be my vocation. . .

It's like O'Connor once said about her stories and her wish for people to have a conversion of heart; "To the deaf, you yell. To the blind, you draw large and startling pictures." And I've done that in explaining her stories, the Faith, and how it all relates. I feel like I scream and draw easy to understand pictures about her stories and how they relate to the Faith in order to spark interest in it or even just to renew a Love and Faith in Jesus.

But what do you do when you encounter the deaf and dumb?

Turn your eyes to heaven and pray with hope.

Have faith that these people will come around.

Love them even more.

At least that is what I have to tell myself, lest I fall into despair.

Less than 3,

V.