Roses and Raspberries of 2012

I know everyone (and by “everyone,” I mean the 2 people (one of them likely being my mother) who will read this) was wondering when these would be available to the public… So here they are, folks: my roses and raspberries of 2012. 

Graduation with my wonderful housemates (minus one).

Roses to graduating with my elementary education degree from Corban University after four awesome years there.  With the student teaching done and work samples submitted, it’s good to know I have chosen a career I love.

Roses to spending my last year at Corban with some of the most incredible people I have met and am lucky to call my friends.

Raspberries to the lack of home-renting knowledge we had… but roses to the fact that we can laugh about our naivety “back then” and are much smarter now (HA!). 

Spending time in Costa Rican schools.

Roses to spending another summer with Royal Servants in Costa Rica… didn’t even get one bad sunburn this year and the idea of “camping” is hardly foreign to me anymore (HA! again). 

Raspberries to the lack of reciprocity of teaching licenses… and having to take and pay for tests over again just because they say “WASHINGTON” at the top instead of “OREGON.”

Roses to now being a licensed teacher in two states.

Roses to my parents’ new living arrangements in England.  I feel that by having such jet-setting parents, I must be cool now, too.

Raspberries to missing my parents when they are “across the pond.”

Sarah's married now!!

Roses to being a maid of honor in my best friend’s wedding. 

Roses (believe it or not) to being a substitute teacher.  Even though I didn’t get my highly sought after full-time, permanent teaching position, I have been blessed to stay busy with subbing and have enjoyed far more than I thought I would.  I don’t have 30 students; I have hundreds and hundreds of students.  I like to say my class is half-full…. what a terrible pun, but it worked too well to leave it out.

New friends!

Roses to finding out (thanks to subbing) that I happen to love working with middle schoolers. 

Raspberries to the difficult days of teaching, but roses to the great stories they leave me with.

Roses to the new friends I have made since moving back to Washington.  Turns out it might actually be possible to create a social life for myself while also being a teacher.    

Happy New Year to you, I hope it's filled with many more roses than raspberries.  

Lessons learned by a substitute teacher

It's been two full months since I started subbing, and have been lucky enough to have a job every day since I got my first job (see previous blog).  Over these past weeks, I have learned more about teaching than I did in all my college years combined.  Subbing is proving to be one of the most enjoyable, diverse, difficult, exciting, stressful, and hilarious things I have ever done.  I have subbed just about everything by now: high school PE/health, middle school science, kindergarten, 3rd grade, special ed, high school culinary, 4/5th grade, middle school reading, etc., etc.

Here are a FEW things I have learned...

1.  Students remember those things you wish they wouldn't... like when I say, "next time I come, I'll ____," they ALWAYS hold me accountable.  How can they remember these specific details but can't remember what 6x7 is?

2.  Some secretaries are very kind, welcoming, and helpful; others are... not.  I guess it's only fair they assume someone who's never been in the building before should know where everything is.

3.  The last 90 minutes of full day kindergarten is simply a practice in meltdown avoidance.

4.  There is one major difference between teaching high school PE and kindergarten PE: the high schoolers are bigger.

5.  You do not need "prizes" to be an effective teacher with good classroom management.  In fact, you don't need prizes to make students like you, what they really want is just a good teacher.

6.  Although you technically only need to arrive 30 minutes early, if you're planning on having any idea what you're doing for the day, knowing where the music room is that you will be taking kids to at 10:30, deciphering the lesson plans left in seeming hieroglyphs, making the copies that weren't left for an activity, etc., I suggest you arrive AT LEAST 45 minutes early.  An hour if you're a bit overly paranoid, like me.

7.  Pay attention to the student whose name who you know within the first 10 minutes of class... you will likely need to give them some extra "attention" today.

8.  As a substitute, there is a 92% chance the principal will unexpectedly drop by to "check in."  Be on guard, they're really coming to make sure you, as a substitute, are competent.

9.  87% of aforementioned principal drop-ins happen during a transition time after an exceedingly messy art project.

10.  Even if you really get on students about their chattiness, lack of focus, or tendency to be continually off task, they still love you at the end of the day.  Kids want to be held accountable.

11.  Watching the movie "Freedom Writers" during your first year of teaching will undoubtedly make you feel like you're Hillary Swank.

12.  Always bring a back-up plan (duh).  This became very clear to me when I came into a class with this on the lesson plans: "1:00-2:00 - teacher's choice!"  The exclamation point was probably supposed to be a happy exclamation, but for me (this was one of my first sub jobs), it was more of an oh-my-gosh-I-didn't-know-I-was-supposed-to-have-planned-an-activity-for-a-class-that's-not-mine exclamation.  From that day on, I always bring at least two good books, mad libs, a riddle book, various tongue twisters, and an age-appropriate activity that could take anywhere from 30-60 minutes.

13.  Food allergies run high these days.  Don't even think about bringing food rewards.  I may have learned this the hard way... (And apparently Dum-Dums are made in a plant ravaged with peanut remains?)

14.  Having 45 students in a PE class is totally normal, and according to the district, totally effective.  I beg to differ.

15.  Any sub job posting that has "this job includes bus duty, lunchroom duty, and recess duty" in the job details should be immediately avoided.

16.  Recess as "teacher" is infinitely less fun than I remember recess being as "student."

17.  Being a new face in the classroom, you're a mystery that every student craves to solve.  They want to know your age, they want to know about your family, they want to know... if you're pregnant.

18.  Never pose a question that begins with a phrase like, "How does Mrs. Smith...," you will get 30 different answer yelled at you simultaneously and you'll wish you'd never asked.

19.  When in doubt, forget the confusing, last-minute lesson plans and do what you know how to do best: just TEACH.

Going back to high school... as teacher?!

I did it.  I subbed my first day.  In PE.  High school PE.  Surviving this makes me think I can handle anything now.  Almost an invincible feeling.  And here's how it went:

Upon arriving to the high school, I was feeling pretty good about being ten minutes early and having found the staff parking lot with incredible ease.  I was feeling so confident, I didn’t even bother drinking the last fourth of my coffee (now that’s confidence!).  I waltzed right in the doors and found my way to the office.  And when I say “find my way,” I actually mean, got lost on the wrong floor and eventually found my way to the office at the exact moment I was due to arrive (good thing I had that 10 minute buffer). 

When the secretary handed me a hefty lanyard of keys and told me she didn’t know where the locker room was (and I wondered how could that even be possible), the principal generously offered to escort me there.  During our somewhat long and uncomfortable walk to the elusive locker room, he asked me some questions:

Principal: “So do you teach PE?”

Me: “No…”

Principal: “So have you been in high schools to substitute?”

Me: “Uh… no.”

Principal: “….”

Me: “But I love high schoolers!”

I’m sure at this point he was thinking I was about to have an interesting day.  I was just very thankful he didn’t ask if this was my first day subbing.  Because it sure was.

Before classes began, I decided to scope out the premises.  There are locks to EVERYTHING.  This is, as I found out, the reason for the key-laden lanyard I was given.  (This lock/key situation was a constant battle throughout the day.)  Apparently the “righty-tighty, lefty-loosey” motto is NOT a universal law.  

First period came and along with it came Ultimate Frisbee.  Not one of my better athletic skills.  Thankfully, I was mostly in charge of getting cones and Frisbees out of the supply room.  One student broke out a bowl of Fruit Loops.  I told him this wasn’t a good time for that.  He said he was starving.  How do I argue with “starving?”

Second period came with tennis and the instruction for me to “teach students a basic serve.”  I did my best to explain what I have grown up watching Venus and Serena do and then asked “so who wants to demonstrate?!”  Surprisingly, there were no takers.  I volunteered someone wearing a “Varsity Tennis” shirt. 

Period three came with the weight room and a workout with things like “hex bar dead lifts” and “quick snatch lift” on it.  To which I instructed, “if you don’t know what one of the lifts is, I suggest you move on to the next one.”  I also attempted to use the sound system to “pump up some jams.”  After the first CD skipped and made odd sounds, I told students this was my dubstep version.  That wasn’t funny.  So I put on oldies instead.  That was frowned upon.

Period four was like period three. 

Period five was my “prep,” which really means nothing for a substitute but “shoot, shoulda brought my sudoku.”

Period six was back to the tennis courts.  It was now pretty warm outside and me asking students to run two laps around the tennis courts was apparently totally uncalled for.  PE is NOT for sweating, little did I know.

It was a good day.  I might even say I had fun.  I would even dare to say I would do it again.  Aside from the humorous recollections of the day, I really do love working with students.  I love being the listening ear for their stories they so desperately want to share.  I can’t imagine doing anything else.  And I can honestly say I can’t wait to take on my next sub job: middle school PE!

A simple summary of observations:

    1.     Any time is a good time to eat Fruit Loops.  Even during the warm-up for PE.

    2.     Analog clocks are a thing of the past and an unbreakable code.

    3.     Billy Preston’s song “Nothing From Nothing” is not a cool song to listen to in the weight room (I was thinking it was great until I noticed the disapproving looks on the forty faces staring back at me).

    4.     When the word “hustle” is yelled, that means, “walk slower, please.”

    5.     When asked to “run” that means, “just walk around at any pace you’d like, preferably really slowly.”

    6.     Having to stay in the locker room until the bell rings is absolute torture.

    7.     Run for 5 minutes?!  You might as well make me run a marathon. 

    8.     It’s totally unfair to mark anyone as “tardy” for only being 20 minutes late. 

    9.     Having to play tennis in the PE class called “racquet sports” is a crime and unreasonable. 

  10.  The stranger the name, the less likely the nickname will make logical sense.  (Ajuhdareev=Sam, Quishaw=Andy) …but for real, these names are solely made to make substitutes calling role look ridiculous.

I might look back and laugh, maybe.

No matter how optimistic you pride yourself in being, there are just some days that classify as nothing short of “bad.”  Today was one of those “special” days.  My goal for today was to be productive, efficient, and cross off items on my currently overwhelming to-do list.  In an attempt to get some straight-up answers as to how I get my Washington teaching license, I decided to hit the BIG city of Bellingham and visit Western Washington University.  You may not think much of Western, as it is not UW, USC, or another ghastly large state school, but coming from Corban, which is essentially a couple buildings on the side of a hill, I was on a big-time campus. 

As I turned onto the road that was supposedly going to lead me where I needed to go, I ran across the “visitors” building.  This seemed like the logical place for someone like me who doesn’t have a clue to go first.  Turns out, I was right.  Apparently you have pay to park by the hour at this place!  Clue number one that I am no longer on Corban campus.  So I decided to pay for one hour parking, thinking I was having a particularly successful and efficient day and keeping this mission to under an hour would be effortless.  Upon asking for a map, which the lady so nicely traced all over in red pen to show me exactly how I was to find my way to lot 17G, I walked back to my car doing that typical dig-through-your-purse-causally-so-no-one-see-you-panic thing to find my key.  But as I reached my car with still no key in hand, I’m sure my panic was now evident on my face.  I dug for another 2 minutes before I took that humiliating squat to the ground where you can really get a good digging in your purse.  I emptied out all the contents, nothing.  I patted all my pockets, nothing. 

Shamefully, I walked back to the visitors (or as it should be called, “Navigating College Campuses for Idiots”) building.  I informed them I must have left my keys here.  Nothing.  So they directed me to the campus police officer where my key would be located if someone found it and turned it in.  I rounded the corner of this building and asked the police man if he had my key.  He asked me to wait while he went and looked (as I thought to myself, “if it had been turned in, it would probably still be sitting on that desk of yours…”).  He came back and asked when I lost my key.  “About 5 minutes ago.”  With a patronizing chuckle, he told me that no, my key had not been found. 

Back to the parking lot I went; I dug around a few more times.  Back into the Idiots office I went.  Surprisingly, that front desk that didn’t have my key on it two minutes ago still didn’t have my key!  So back to the car again.  I dumped everything out of the purse and contemplated the most mature way to call mom and ask if she could bring me my spare key.  It was at this moment I found my key.  In my purse. 

With a newfound sense of success (and wasting a good 15 minutes of that hour of parking I paid for), I set off to find lot 17G.  I repeated the lines the lady told me, “right out of the lot, right at the light.”  But after one of those rights, I got a little distracted by the sweat accumulating under my arms after having survived that stressful event of losing and finding keys.  During this effort to remove my cardigan, I realized I had not been looking for lot 17G.  So I pulled into the nearest lot and rolled the window down to get some help from a rather official looking, older lady.  After having to explain my situation to her about 3 times, I realized I had not chosen well in looking for someone to help streamline my campus navigation process. 

I tried my best to nicely tell her I’d figure it out on my own, when I saw the sign notifying me this was, in fact, lot 17G.  Hallelujah.  I parked, hopped out of the car (with campus map in hand) and said a prayer that I could make my way to Miller Hall, find this answer-filled genie, and make it back to 17G in under the now 40 minutes I had remaining on this parking permit.  It was at this moment the aforementioned “helper” decides she wants to discuss what year my Jetta is.  I DON’T KNOW, and I did not pay for this hour-long parking to talk about my car. 

 I’m sure I looked really cool to all the students getting out of class as I sped walked through campus covering my face with this map.  The map showed that Miller Hall was by the “Red Square,” building 23, and parking lot 10G.  That would be really helpful if I new what or where any of those things were.  By the grace of God alone, I somehow ran into Miller Hall.  You might think my problems are over at this point.  Think again. 

I walk in, feeling all “successful” again.  From the outside, this building looks like any other campus building: square, brick, students walking in and out, the typical. But on the inside, it’s like some sort of cruel maze created to confuse campus idiots like me.  There were four floors, with a few “sub-floors” mixed in there, too.  As I’m walking through what appears to be some sort of café, the hallway all of a sudden turns into outside.  “What?  Why is there no roof here?  What if it were raining?” Another sign (probably the seventh sign by now) that this is not Corban.  We always have roofs.  They might leak, but we have roofs. 

I find a map on a wall and stare at it for a good 4 or 5 minutes in an attempt to find a room that looks like it might have that genie with the information I need to know.  I pick room 250.  This also happens to be on one of the mysterious sub-floors.  After a few more circles around this ridiculous maze, I find it: room 250.  The lady was nice enough, but informs me I will actually be finding that genie in room 150.  I find my way to the stairs again and take, what I am sure is, the longest route.  This secretary is much less helpful and friendly.  In fact, she never got off the phone.  Thankfully, someone else came out, seeing my bewildered and I’m sure slightly haggard-looking self at this point.  She invites me in and then informs me of the process to obtain a Washington teaching license.  Turns out the test I got passing scores back from today, won’t work.  She tells me I have to take the tests that say “Washington” at the top of them.  I don’t know if this was an attempt to be humorous, but I wasn’t finding it all too funny. 

Surprisingly, I made it back to lot 17G, and found my car, with 7 minutes to spare. 

I felt like crying.  Why can’t there be a universal teaching license?  Why can’t all the states’ names be at the top of those tests?  Why are there endless hoops to jump through in order to get a license?  Why can’t I seem to figure out how to use maps?  This past hour had been one for the record books.  Could anything else have gone wrong?!  (Which it did… the freeway entrance ramp I needed to use was closed, and as you can probably guess, my navigating skills took me a very round-about way to find another entrance to the freeway.)

Now, 4 hours after this afternoon debacle, I can laugh at what happened.  The fact that I spent 15 minutes looking for the lost key located in my purse, the fact that I just so happened to run into the one lady on campus with no sense of urgency or parking lot knowledge, the fact that Miller Hall is a crazed, cruel, and occasionally roofless maze, is actually pretty hilarious.  All of these issues were just minor obstacles in my way of getting to the answer genie.  And, looking back, they make for a pretty good story.  Not to mention, I managed to navigate and get answers in my allotted hour of parking.

All this nonsense about re-taking tests and filling out copious amounts of paperwork are just obstacles in my way of getting a teaching license.  But I’ll get around them eventually.  Who knows, I might even laugh some day when I think about the summer I tried to get my Washington license.  The summer I re-took essentially the same test I took (and passed) mere months prior.  Maybe.  Not yet. 

I am reminded of my favorite verse, “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer” (Romans 12:12).  This is all in God’s hands.  I don’t need to worry.  I just need to stay joyful, have a little patience, and trust in God’s bigger plan.  So I might run into a few metaphorical “lost” keys, unhelpful “helpers,” and Miller mazes.  But I’m sure it will make the end (successful) result that much sweeter.  

Just passing through

I am a recent college graduate… 8 days ago, to be exact.  During these past 4 years, I have been in a constant state of not really living in any one place.  Anyone else who has been through college or may currently be getting their college degree probably has a pretty good idea what I am talking about.  For those of us who choose a college farther than a city or two away from home, we don’t really live at home anymore.  But we also don’t really live in this oversized building filled with ridiculous numbers of other crazed 20-somethings called a dorm.  Over the weekends, we can end up anywhere: the beach, a friend’s house, Grandma’s, the occasional trip home for food and laundry, or maybe someone else’s dorm room.  You’re in a constant state of movement.

At some point during these 4 years, I mastered what it means to live in such a way that

 (hopefully) makes moving to wherever that next location may be a little easier.  For example, keeping things rarely used in their boxes is always a good idea.  In fact, this past year, I moved at least two boxes home that had never been opened during the course of the school year.  But it always made me feel better knowing I had those boxes of seeming “essentials,” just in case.  I also learned that moving clothes from one closet to another is best done by keeping the clothes on the hangers.  Quicker out, quicker in.  And for those of us who live far enough away that two trips to take things home is unacceptable, I have learned the utmost importance of using that trip home during Spring Break to your best advantage (bring home those boxes you never used for the past 8 months… you won’t use any of it during that last month, I promise). 

As tempting as it may be to bring more “essentials” back to your undersized dorm or apartment while being home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, or other breaks long enough to make the trip home, you should be very selective.  That car that was a little over-packed on the way to your school back in August won’t suddenly have more room in May for that extra bookshelf, box of VHS tapes you swore you’d watch during finals week, or that tennis racket you promised to use on every sunny weekend. 

All this to say, I think I know the ropes of “living on the go” (and I have an awesome mother who does things like take carloads and U-haul loads back for me in May).  I haven’t really felt settled for these past 4 years.  Over the summers, I left boxes in the garage (or even worse, in my car!), stuffed closets full of clothes that should really be donated or at least re-evaluated before taking up precious space in my less than spacious closet, and contemplated the need to actually keep those ridiculously pricey textbooks about managerial accounting, the history of the Baptist church, and how to “figure out foreigners.”  I couldn’t help but feel like no matter where I ended up for the current segment of months, that place was not really my home. 

Do you ever feel like that here on Earth?  Like you’re not really at home yet?  Like you haven’t reached all you’re hoping to accomplish?  Like you can’t quite feel at ease with your current lot in life?  If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, rest assured you’re not alone.  In fact, you’re probably right where you should be.

“For here we do not have a lasting city, but we are seeking the city which is to come” (Hebrews 13:14).  We really are just passing through.  This world is just a pit stop for us to be used by God for his glory while we are really on our way to where we are supposed to be.  That feeling of being under satisfied and uncomfortable is a natural part of life here on Earth. 

So for the time being, figure out what makes this “passing through” life a little easier… keep your hanging clothes on their hangers, pack your boxes wisely, and don’t stuff your car too full.  Let God have his way with your life and remember you’re just passing through a couple temporary cities.  

He's calling you to do the "Boot Scootin' Boogie"

In a house full of student teachers, we don’t get out much.  But in celebration of a roommate’s birthday, we took it upon ourselves to embrace the true culture of Oregon: line dancing.  I love to dance, however, I wouldn’t consider myself gifted in the area.  But seeing as I always have a good time playing “Just Dance” on the Wii, and I’m always looking for new ways to get in a workout, I figured the night should be fun, or at the very least, eventful.    

When we arrived at the Silver Spur, the scene I saw as I walked in the door was not at all what I expected.  Yes, there were people dancing; yes, they were wearing cowboy boots; yes, there was country music; yes, there were even a few cowboy hats.  But the looks on the faces of the people dancing was not at all what my imagination had conjured up on our long (roundabout) way to our Friday night hangout.  And trust me, I had time to create a pretty vivid image in my mind, as we were lost for a good ten extra minutes.  Their faces were lifeless.  They weren’t smiling, singing, or appearing to have a good time in any way.  This is not what the movies show line dancing to be like; the people in the movies are always smiling and having a ball.

Not having a clue how to do the “shuffle step,” the “chasse,” the “hoedown throw down,” or the “wild wild west boogie,” we decided it best to sit out the first few dances in an attempt try to gain some sort of knowledge on this supposedly festive, but seemingly lifeless, form of dance.

After getting up the courage to brave the dance floor, our group of 8 decided to join in.  We weren’t exactly naturals… our performance during the first few dances was actually rather pitiful.  I stepped on a few toes, ran into a few “regulars,” and laughed my way through “Redneck Girl,” “Watermelon Crawl,” and “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”  I watched the feet of the regulars, and man with striking similarities to Alan Jackson called out the moves for our hopeless group of “city folk.” 

Maybe our dancing was inhibiting the “groove” these naturals had established before our chaotic arrival, but I saw a change in their lifeless faces.  People were smiling (disregard the fact they were probably laughing at us).  People seemed to be having fun.  Maybe they liked the challenge of having to dance around a bunch of obstacles.  Maybe they liked seeing new faces.  Maybe they just really liked the way I was singing “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”  But there was finally joy on the dance floor. 

Sometimes God brings us into situations where we feel like we have a metaphorical pair of two left feet.  It can be intimidating.  You might end up feeling like you have nothing of value or skill to offer.  And you may feel like you’d prefer to sit outside the dance floor.  I don’t mean to make light of the importance of God’s call with my reference to line dancing; following His will can be a scary and intimidating thing.  But it is an important truth to remember that God uses us in our weaknesses to be lights and servants to the world around us. 

“And He has said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.’  Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.”  -2 Corinthians 12:9

Prepare to be surprised in how God uses your weaknesses (possibly even more than your strengths) in your service.  Maybe your role in service will end up looking a lot different than you imagined, but trust that God has the power to use you in the way He calls you… even if He’s calling you to do the “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.” 

He will stay in with me at recess

One of my favorite classroom management strategies is called “Love and Logic.”  Essentially, you give students choices rather than forcing them to do something.  Here are some potential Love and Logic phrases that might come out of my mouth on a typical school day:

 “Well, you can either work on this assignment now, or you can work on it during our class party this afternoon.”

“That’s a bummer that you chose to do that.”

“How are we going to make a better choice next time?”

“I understand that you are feeling frustrated, but do you think that attitude is helping you right now?”

“I am sad you’re making that choice.”

“I’m not the one keeping you in from recess today, it is your own choices that keep you in.”

“I will give you 30 more seconds to be upset, and then you can either get back to working, or we can talk about this with your parents.”

You get the point, right?  As a teacher, I like to give my students choices.  I want them to “own” their own choices and actions.  I have found this method has so many benefits: it does not make the student feel inferior, it gives students the power to make their own choices, it helps students learn to live with the consequences of their actions, and it keeps me from being the “bad guy.”

It seems like God likes using Love and Logic too.  (Which makes sense, seeing as he is the greatest teacher ever.)  God likes to leave things open ended for me; sometimes people call it “free will.”  I like to call it “Jill-freaks-out-because-God-won’t-tell-her-exactly-what-to-do.”  Anyone who has lived with me is probably well aware that I am indecisive.  I hate making choices because I hate that I don’t know the outcome.  It’s come to the point where I can only buy one kind of cereal at a time or else I will spend a good 5 or more minutes trying to figure out which one to have for breakfast… and that is time I do not have to waste in the mornings. 

I’m heading into a time of my life that involves a lot of decision-making.  I’m graduating from college.  I have to decide what I actually want to do with my life.  Sure, I want to be a teacher, but where?  Should I settle for being a substitute or should I keep searching for a full-time position?  Should I stay here in Oregon, or should I go home to Washington?  Do I do the “unthinkable” and move back in with Mom and Dad?  Do I take time off to travel?  Do I go on a mission trip?  Do I find an apartment for myself or do I try to cut the bills by living with friends? 

I DON’T KNOW!  I don’t want to make any more decisions. 

I’m sure God looks down and smiles at my while I struggle through the painful process of decision-making in a very similar way that I watch my own students contemplate the benefits of doing their math work “now or later.”  For the moment, it seems as if my sweet students hate me because I have suddenly made them accountable for their own actions: they choose and they deal with what comes from that choice. 

I wouldn’t say that I “hate” God for making me choose.  In fact, it is a blessing that he gives me the choice.  I can choose anything and God will go with me.  There is not one choice I could make that God would throw in the towel and say “forget it, she chose the wrong path.”  If I have a student who chooses to goof off during math time and therefore “chooses” to stay in at recess, I stay with them.  I forgo lunch in the staff room to spend my lunch in the class, prodding them through their fraction worksheet. 

And so it is with God.  If I choose it, He will (metaphorically) stay in at recess with me.  So what’s really to worry about?  The best I can do is follow what I know is “right,” learn from the mistakes that I have made, and trust that God will go with me.