What koinonia looks like

Celebrating the return of "The Office" last spring in the K-House living room

I loved hanging out at the Koinonia House last year, so I was excited to move in there in early January. Koinonia is Greek for "community," and the Bible uses it to talk about the love that Christians should have for each other and for those around them. My 8 roommates are all PSU students somehow connected to United Campus Ministry (UCM), and frequently the house is full of others. My room is on the third floor, so I can work quietly when I need to, but it's hard to resist the joy and goofiness that permeates the common areas downstairs. Also, people here are very intelligent, passionate, and curious about the world. Recent topics of conversation have included US-Saudi relations, thermodynamics, King Kong, Korean cooking, green construction, and ethical grocery shopping. Languages I've heard here recently include French , German, Spanish, Korean, Chinese, and bits of Burmese.

The K-House holds many traditions as well as sundry quirky experiences. Monday through Thursday, people take turns cooking for a crowd. I put my name on the big white board calendar for last Monday, submitted my grocery receipt to Vaughn, who figures out who owes what each month, and started making spinach and ricotta calzones (a Cooper favorite). I was counting on about 10-12 for dinner, not realizing that Monday night was now "Family Dinner" (where everyone from UCM does their best to make it). By the time I rang the gong to announce dinner, there were 21 of us. Thankfully, several housemates came to my rescue, whipping up extra batches of dough and toast for the remaining calzone filling, as well as a hefty pot of green beans. At the end of the evening, everyone decided to sing a Mennonite hymn in four-part harmony, which is not uncommon.

Last night was a first for me. Snow had forced two friends to leave State College earlier than expected, forfeiting their tickets to the Chris Tomlin concert. Eric, the fiancé of my good friend Ruth, was looking for people to come in their place. Counting on a snow day today (which I got - #4 so far!), I joined him and the other guy with a ticket, Amish John. Since he's friends with the two who forfeited their seats, neither Eric nor I had ever met him, but he quickly befriended us and about five other people in line at the entrance. His youthful looks belie the wife and 8 children he left at home. They were all Amish until he was excommunicated (fairly recently, I think) for his belief in miracles, supernatural healings, etc. Now, he gets a ride 25 miles every day from their hometown to work in the dining commons of North Halls and in landscaping. John's haircut, boots, and manner of speaking are still strikingly Amish. His wife and daughters still can all their fruits and vegetables for the winter, he's never driven a car, and he had no idea how to read the ticket to find our seats in the BJC, Penn State's huge arena.

How does an Amish-turned-Pentecostal guy act at his first-ever concert? His joy was simply overwhelming the whole night. (He reminds me of Buddy the Elf.) The openers, Israel Houghton and New Breed, were a gospel group and a bit of a stretch for this small-town Pennsylvania crowd, although Eric and I thought they were great. But John jumped up and down nonstop for each song, singing with gusto. He was delighted to run into numerous friends and acquaintances, ditching us for the Chris Tomlin to sit with other friends, and told everyone around us, "It's so nice to see you. Where are you from?" At the end of the concert, we ran into my friends from the International Christian Fellowship. To me, that kind of melting pot is the face of koinonia: celebrating Jesus together and loving people across all boundaries.

P.S. A few hours after posting this, I found John sitting in that same living room. It seemed completely natural.

I may have been an education major...

but my classes neglected to cover some crucial details. At the Chelsea Cooper School for First-Year Teachers, here are the courses that would be offered.

Decisiveness 101 – making up your mind on lesson plans before students walk in the door, no matter how mediocre the plans may seem.
Innuendo-Free Teaching 100 – because nearly any example sentence in a language lesson can be misconstrued if someone tries hard enough. It’s a race against pros to spot the innuendo before students can.
Advanced Placement German – if I could just take this class, maybe I’d have some idea of how it should be taught.
Meteorology 57 – to anticipate snow days/delays and know when I can take the evening off. Because in Happy Valley, there are a lot of snow days to be had.
Lip-Reading 92 – for my quiet students in the back row.
Pop Culture 212 – who is Gary Coleman, and why did a student suggest that his chosen superpower would be to make infinite numbers of Gary Coleman T-shirts? Minus five points for Frau Cooper. Knowing offhand that Guitar Hero features songs by Die Toten Hosen? I like to think that's plus eleven points right there.
Direction-Giving 36 – so they’re clear the first time I give them, instead of only the fifth.
Using State High’s Technology 118 – this is the one class I feel I’ve actually taken, with Tech Support angels spending hours setting me up with all kinds of gimmicks and gadgets to streamline my teaching. Understanding the reasons that grading, attendance, and report cards require three totally separate systems, though, must be part of the second-semester course.

Leaving pieces

“She left pieces of her life wherever she went. It’s easier to feel the sunlight without them, she said.”

2008 saw me leaving pieces left and right: 3 countries, 5 cities, countless new acquaintances and friends. It’s been a good year, challenging me to grow in many ways. I’m hoping next year holds a bit more stability and fewer uprootings, but I’m glad to say I’ve found myself fondly missing each place I leave. Except for one: I never dreamed of returning to State College once I finished my classes, but I’m now teaching German at their high school through June.

I’ve been negligent about recording my student teaching experiences in Pittsburgh. My time in German was incredibly rewarding and helpful, and teaching French also stretched me and improved me a lot. My mentors couldn’t be more different from one another; sometimes that made me groan, while other times I had to laugh, but overall it meant that I gained double the wisdom and double the examples of dedicated teachers. Jackie was also as supportive as could be, helping me think through many a challenge. December 5 arrived rapidly, and I bid a regretful farewell to the students and faculty who had shaped my real-world education. As my first high school, Baldwin will always hold a special place in my heart, I think.

Three days later, I timidly entered State College High School with my best “real teacher” impression. I’ve decided that student teaching is to long-term substituting what babysitting is to foster care. I’m not the first teacher for these students, but suddenly I make the rules, and I’m accountable for students actually learning something. The short story for my position? The regular teacher is in Germany pursuing a master’s degree, and the sub hired for this year quit after several weeks. Since then, a number of people have filled in for a few weeks each. Everyone’s looking forward to some consistency.

My teaching schedule is mercifully light: I only have five classes per day, of which two are German II, two are German IV, and one is AP German. But my three planning periods seem to vanish daily between technology orientations, asking various teachers for help, and trying to get organized. Hopefully soon I’ll use my time more efficiently as I get settled, because planning for three different courses demands a lot of preparation! Things seem to be going well so far, although my jitters are hard to shake each morning. State College is considered a “bubble,” and Penn State is omnipresent for my students, between their parents’ employment at the university, the college courses many are already taking, and the assumption that all will one day attend PSU. My students overall seem very bright, and many seem eager to “finally do something” in German class. (The rest will soon get used to the idea.) Other faculty have been extremely supportive, and I already feel attached to everyone.

Having taught for two weeks before Christmas, I’m heading back this weekend and buckling down for the next six months. I’m excited for it, but hoping to avoid burnout from my perfectionist tendencies. My housemates should help me take a break from lesson planning: I’m moving into the K-House, a community of mostly Christian students who do a lot of sweet, crazy and fun things together. I know several of them well already, and I’m looking forward to further developing friendships there.