It’s right around this time of the school year where I almost completely check out. I wrote about it last year (Read HERE) and if you know me personally, you also know this to be true. There’s something about the grind of the school year and the Go-Go-Go of it all that thoroughly wipes me out and by mid-April I am just Stick-A-Fork-In-Me-Done.
The sight of dirty old lunchboxes that need packing sends me into a near catatonic state. The unending flow of paperwork in Thursday folders makes me get the shakes and I can barely stand one more carpool drive down the ever-ridiculous Eldorado Parkway (for an entertaining read on my road rage and this particular road read HERE). I’m just OVER it. I wish I could be better about it and June Cleaver it until May, but I can’t.
If we’re really being honest here, I barely June Cleaver it in September so this should be no surprise to anyone.
And it was this exact attitude that kept me from ALMOST declining the call that came in yesterday from the school. If it weren’t for the tiny little niggling fear in the back of my mind that one of my kids somewhere was throwing up, I definitely wouldn’t have answered. But I did. It wasn’t a sick kid, though. Instead, it was a teacher on the other end who just wanted to let me know that my child** was not working up to his ability. In PE.
Yes. You read that right. Physical Education. The PE teacher had to call me to tell me that my child was not doing his best in PE. Not math. Not science. P-freaking-E.
It was such a surreal conversation that I had to ask for clarification and I almost laughed at him. Not because he was wrong, bur rather because I just couldn’t believe this was happening. The convo went a little something like this:
Me (through muffled disbelief and laughter): “Let me get this straight. You’re calling me to tell me that my child is coming in last in the mile?”
Coach (clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation and my socially inappropriate reaction): “Yes, ma’am. That’s right. He is not giving full effort. We can tell that your child is tremendously gifted and is an incredible natural athlete. He should be coming in first and has the potential to do amazing. But he’s walking and coming in last. It’s a waste of ability and we thought you should know.”
Let’s unpack this here for a second, shall we?
Hand to bible my first thought when I heard this was “Who Cares?” Maybe not the most motherly of feelings, but it’s true. Mostly because I’m not an athlete, I don’t understand the concept nor the value of “max effort” and “leaving it all on the court.” And I probably never will. There was never ever a coach or PE teacher in the history of my physical education experience that watched my awkard attempts at “sporting” on the field (any field) and thought “man, what a wasted talent.” NEVER. My talent was showing up and riding the bench and I did both really well. I was not pushed. I was not encouraged beyond my ability (you want to come in last in the mile? OK), and while maybe at the time I wanted to be an athlete because they were the cool kids, I know now it’s just not me and never was. And that’s honestly fine.
Because it was PE, people. P-E.
My second even less flattering thought was, “My, how PE teachers have changed.” PE teachers of my day, those BIKE short wearing coaches who probably didn’t really want to be teachers, suffered no fools. If you were slacking, there were no very nice and polite phone calls home. Nope. There was, however, a series of distinct and ritualized public humiliations designed to “inspire” slacking athletes into action. Or failure. That’s it. There were no other options. You were either screamed at through a bullhorn for the entire gym class to hear or you got an F. It was that easy.
And I’m not sure that’s not the best way to handle this situation, neither.
But this PE teacher on the other end of the line was nice. He was SO nice. He really did care and he really wanted me, as a parent, to understand just how talented my child is. If only he would get out of his own way and step into it. That’s it. He saw talent wasted and that seemed like a big enough crime to warrant a phone call home.
And after I got over my initial shock, annoyance, and, yes unflattering as it may be, laughter, I really started to think this through. Was he really that wrong? No. In fact, he was really, really right. And it was a lesson not only for my child, but one I needed too.
If you follow me at all you know I am reeling from a recent disappointment. I wrote about it last week (HERE). And while I’m much much better, I still have lots of questions. Lots of doubts. And lots of confusion about whether or not this is something I’m really supposed to do. In my amateur armchair theology, I didn’t think God worked like this–giving you a gift just to take it away (except, you know, He does–see Abraham). I really didn’t. And I’ve been struggling through so much doubt that just throwing in the towel has seemed the right choice at times. Maybe it is time to chart a new course, find something else that sets my soul on fire.
Like, I don’t know, knitting? Seems reasonable, right?
Well, maybe not. Maybe this call was just as much for me as it was for my son. Because if this is my gift, which I am convinced that it is, to quit would be to waste it. To quit would be to come in last in my own race, on purpose. And while that seems safer and more secure right now as I’m stumbling through the messy waters of disappointment, it also seems to kind of well, suck.
As I shared these thoughts with you last week, dear friends, you became my PE coach with your comments and texts, messages and social media tags. The encouragement has come in waves I can’t even comprehend. And I am forever grateful you. Just like the PE teacher, you’re all saying “Don’t give up. This is your race. Your gift. Keep going. Come in first.”
If I’m being honest I struggled with sharing that post and felt instant regret the moment I hit publish. I was afraid to finally put my dream out there in print and even more afraid that you would glance at my disappointment, label it a first world problem and go silent, or worse, tell me to get over myself. But no. You, just like the gym teacher, said “You’ve got this. Keep going.”
While I’m not out on the other end yet (and please don’t bring up my disappointment to me in public or those pesky tears will start to leak again), I’m so much better. And this is what I know, when God gives you a gift He wants you to use it. He doesn’t say it will be easy and He never promises you’re going to be an instant hit, but He does promise to run the race alongside of you. He’ll put people in your life to push you and, yes, sometimes even call in the big guns with a phone call home. But He wants this for you, and honestly, He wants it for Him too.
You know it’s your God dream when it doesn’t die. You know it’s your God gift when it hums in your fingers and shakes in your bones. Let both light you on fire. Stoke the flames and let them grow. You have no idea how far they will take you. 
And so here, my friends, is my gift to you, a deliciously easy shrimp recipe that tastes exactly like spring and summer should taste. Perfect with naan to mop up those juices or even served over pasta with some parmesan, this is a versatile warm weather dish everyone can make.
The secret here is to get the shrimp completely dry (think: like a bone). Moisture results in gross, slimy, limp shrimp, so pat away all of the excess. And use two pans or work in batches, making sure to leave space. If you have too many shrimp in the pan they steam instead of saute, and no one wants that. Don’t touch them, either. Let them sit. It’s worth it, I promise.
Enjoy this one friends. And don’t forget to use your gifts.
Peace, love and gifts,
Meg
PS: Just in case you were wondering, I gave that nice PE teacher full permission to go mean 1980’s PE teacher on my child and then offered up my services, complete with a bull horn and pajamas (because embarrassment works) at the next class my son decides to be a jackhole in. Because that’s how I parent.
**Exact identity of the guilty protected
Tomato Basil Shrimp
Ingredients
- 1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved lengthwise
- 1/4 cup of fresh basil, slivered (a handful)
- 1 1/2 pounds large shrimp, shelled and deveined
- 4 cloves of garlic, minced
- extra basil to garnish
Directions
- Step 1 In a large bowl combine the tomatoes and basil. Drizzle generously with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Stir to combine.
- Step 2 Pat shrimp until completely dry and season with salt and pepper.
- Step 3 Heat a few turns of olive oil (enough to cover the bottom of the pan) in a large skillet (cast iron preferred) until hot over medium high heat.
- Step 4 Once shimmering, drop one batch of shrimp in an even layer. Salt and pepper the other side of the shrimp if necessary.
- Step 5 DO NOT TOUCH for 2-3 minutes or until golden brown and almost completely opaque.
- Step 6 Throw in half of the garlic (about 2 cloves minced), turn off the heat, and turn the shrimp with tongs. Saute gently over remaining heat until cooked through.
- Step 7 Add to tomatoes and repeat with second batch of shrimp (if necessary).
- Step 8 When everything is complete, toss gently to combine, season with more salt and pepper if desired, give one more swirl of olive oil and serve.
Welcome to BurntToast! My name is Meaghan, and this is my safe space, a place where we can share stories, share recipes and share life. It’s my dream that you can come here, kick your shoes off and pour yourself a glass of wine while you read, laugh, and maybe even hop into the kitchen. This is my heart, for all of you to see. And ALL are welcome here.