Season 1, Episode 2: Where Feet May Fail... (Pre-camp/post-school recap)

Any of you who read my blog and go to camp with me, or attend my church, or pay some sort of attention to the Christian-music-sphere probably have an guess about where the title came from, and you're probably correct.

The full line is "Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me, you've never failed, and you won't start now."

This seems wildly applicable to me at the moment. See, my school is in Northwest Illinois (in case you weren't aware), and during the winter of this year, we had a handful of "cold days". By themselves, and at the time, they were fine. We got time off of school, we had more time to catch up on homework, and hey, we could finally toss boiling water into the air to watch it turn into snow, because it wouldn't feel too mainstream anymore.

However, if my knowledge of Physics has taught me anything, it's that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Basically, every action has a consequence, and unfortunately, our consequence for having a few glorious days to ourselves in the middle of winter was to have finals pushed back.

Which, I suppose, wasn't all bad.

Except, finals.

Finals are really stressful for me, and I'm not exactly sure why. I can be 972% prepared for a final exam, or project, or presentation, but when it'll happen, all of sudden I'll be able to feel my heart pounding, and my blood racing, and my mind whirring. It's nerve-wracking.

Anyhow, finals are stressful, but somehow, amidst the anxiety, cramming, and tears (yes, there were tears, I'll explain later) I made it. I finished the year, notoriously the hardest academic year of high school.

So, on the last day of school, I went to go pack some of my locker stuff up before my 7th period (physics) final, and then I walked into the physics classroom, with about two minutes left of the passing period, and I happen to overhear a conversation being had by my physics teacher, and the girl that sits in the seat in front of him. All of a sudden I catch the "Wait, you're leaving?" and I turn around to see my Physics teacher nodding, and saying "yeah, as of today."

Of course, the bell rang right after, and we had to start the test, but I spent a good few minutes at the beginning there thinking about how upset I am that he didn't tell us that he was leaving, or mainly, that he was leaving in the first place.

Now, before I get to the next part, I need to give you some more background. I'm a junior in high school, and for the last two years, I've had some really incredible teachers, but more importantly, I've had the privilege to have a few of my teachers for two years straight.

Here's some pictures, I'm sure they'll help (or just make you laugh, either's good)

Allow me to explain, picture by picture. 

The top left is me, my French teacher of the last two years, and my best friend Amanda. 

The top right (because I don't have a picture of me with him) is my English teacher of the last two years, who has one of the quirkiest senses of humor that I've ever seen in a teacher, and who also happens to be the only person who ever laughs at my Shakespearean puns (i.e. "Why was Brutus such a bad friend? He was a backstabber.").

The bottom right is me, the choir teacher that I've had for the last two years, and my friend Amanda again. I'm so glad that I had him as my teacher, because he has probably been one of the most influential people in helping me decide to major in my true passion, music. Also, he's really funny, and likes to take entire class periods to tell us about his jury duty experiences, and the TV show that he was on. 

The bottom left is me and my physics teacher, who is probably one of my favorite teachers that I've ever had. During the first week of school, he announced that every Friday he was going to try and give us life lessons. So he started talking, about how he wanted us all to succeed, not be afraid to ask questions, and not be afraid to be ourselves. But then, he shared a personal story, about how he used to stutter and always felt really embarrassed about it and was afraid of talking in front of people, but he kept working hard, and wasn't afraid to be himself and eventually he became a teacher (and also gave probably the best graduation speech ever at the commencement this year). He was one of my favorites because he was honest, and he was genuine. He treated his students like the young adults that they were, not like the children that their parents wanted them to be, but also not like the fully fledged adults that they wanted to be. He was always quick to throw a joke around, or tell us good work, or let us know how his kids enjoyed the boy scout field trip to the zoo, and for that, I loved the class. Not only was he a good enough teacher to inspire me to do well in his class (even if I wasn't terribly interested in the material), but he was a good guy too. 

Now, that might sound super cheesy and all. 

That's because it is, and I'm unabashedly okay with it. 

You see, for the most part, I'm the kind of person who will just go and go and go until I run out of energy, which takes me quite a while. I try to show up to all of my classes with a positive attitude and lots of energy, I always participate in everything- I distinctly remember a yearbook editor in middle school telling me that they had to remove me from some of the pages, because otherwise it would look like I was on nearly every page- I swear, if I wasn't myself, I would probably be annoyed by myself (think Sue Heck, from the Middle, mixed with the competitive nature of Alex Dunphy from Modern Family). 

Given my general demeanor, it usually comes as a bit of a shock to others when I show up to a class and don't want to talk, or really interact, with anyone. But it happened. The last full week of school, I had reached a point of exhaustion. I was tired, school had dragged on longer than I had anticipated, and honestly, I was really stressed out about finals. I was wiped out, and I really just needed a bit of a break. I've never really had a teacher comment on it when I've been in a mood like that, because honestly, most teachers don't ever see it.

I try to hide that part of me, that tiredness, from others, because in my mind, it equates as a weakness. And as much as I can accept that I have weaknesses, I don't enjoy having to confront them, especially not in front of others. So I try to just keep pushing and pushing until the end, praying to God that I can keep up enough energy to finish the week, the month, the semester, the year. 

It shouldn't have come to me as a surprise that my physics teacher noticed. I've always been quick to interact with him and other students in class, to offer up thoughts and ideas, and to generally goof around in a respectful fashion, so when I walked into class and sat down, and then didn't talk to anyone all class period, and looked like I had recently been crying (I had, but that was a different story), probably didn't help my cause. Anyhow, before I went to rush out of the room, he [the physics teacher] stopped me, asked if I was alright, and then sent me on my way with a "Well, I hope you feel better soon". 

That was all I needed to hear. The stress on me that week, and the one after, was incredible, even for me with my 972 commitments, and my staying up until 1am all the time. All I needed was a reminder that people enjoy my company, because for me, stress leads to self-doubt, and a lot of it. 

That's kind of my point here, I suppose. I was stressed about finals, and the end of the year. I spent a lot of time in my last two weeks of this year praying, and reading devotionals, and trying to seek out God's guidance. 

And you know what? Finals didn't go anywhere near the way I wanted them to. But here's the catch. 

I made it through.

I was sad about my Physics teacher leaving, and really about ending this era of having a cushion of familiarity with most of my teachers, but now I've realized that comfort zones are made to be stepped out of. 

You know what else?

I'm making it through.

And then we come to the Pre-Camp part of this novel. 

I always get a little bit nervous before camp, and usually I chalk it up to nerves that no one will remember me or something (I don't know where I got that idea, I swear people who I've never met seem to know me up there, but the mind is a mysterious thing). 

Last year, I was a bit nervous because I had to leave camp early for a Color Guard skills camp, and that terrified me. I was afraid of looking stupid; of being unprepared; of being one of the oldest girls on the team, but one of the newest in terms of my skill set. There was a cloud of anxiety hanging over me about that last year, but this year... Well, this year is something entirely different. 

This year, I'm not afraid of people not remembering me.

I'm afraid of people not wanting to associate with me. 

I'm always worried about people not liking me (and perhaps that should be an indicator of my anxiety levels sometimes), but this is different. 

I've been so stressed out, and under so much pressure this year, that I've pushed away a lot of people that I'd normally run to. Or worse, I ran to them, and then pushed them away, or lashed out, or just... didn't think about what I was saying. I can try and attribute it to stress, or pressure, or just a lack of thought on my part, but ultimately, there's no denying that it was out of line.

But ultimately, here's the thing. As stressed out as I am, as worried as I am about people at camp, 

I will make it through.

And that's the most important thing. 

Philippians 4:13 says "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me".

Let it be known, his word is true. 

Signing off, 

Amanda