Student (and one teacher) quotes of the week thus far:
“Miss B, just so we’re on the same page… I AM your favorite,
right?”
“Ahh man, it feels
like Africa in here!” (apparently the room was hot)
“Of course I drink coffee, Miss B! I’m country!!!” –Diva #2 (Of Divas 1,2, and 3… who all sit together)
And lastly, from 7th grade math teacher Mrs. C: “I tried to draw a thermometer to illustrate a real-life
number line, but all the kids started laughing. I took a step back and looked
at what I had drawn to see what the issue was, and that’s when I saw it: Wiener.
I had drawn a giant wiener. Lesson of the day: don’t draw thermometers.”
This is my life. And
thank goodness for these moments that make me cry because I’m laughing so hard,
because there are certainly other moments that just make me want to cry. I discovered today that I can teach my heart
out and explain a concept a hundred different ways, but if my students are
already convinced they’re going to fail then I might as well be speaking Latin
to them. I love my students. Yes, I adore my kids. But today when that last bell rang I felt
defeated. I was struck by the
realization that it doesn’t matter how great of a math teacher I become, some of
these kids just refuse to try. Why?
Because their whole life they’ve heard nothing but the message that they’re a
failure, they will always be a failure, and they will never be anything greater
than what they are right now. I found
myself trying to figure out how on earth I could get these kids to understand
how to simplify fractions when they gave up trying to understand fractions
three years ago, and I couldn’t find an answer.
I had lost. I had no way of
making them understand. You can’t build
a house on a crumbling foundation, and some of my students didn’t have a
foundation to begin with. What am I
supposed to do with that?
That was my mindset when I left school…. but then I went to
Bible study. It was on a whim,
really. I hadn’t planned on joining a
women’s study because I’m leading a college girls’ study this semester, but I just kept
feeling the whispers of the Spirit sending me in that direction. Turns out
we’ll be studying Nehemiah. Cool. Who is that again? Well, let me tell ya:
Nehemiah was the cupbearer of the King of Persia. He was living a pretty swanky life, kicking
it in the palace. He was literally
living in a Persian resort. Now I’ve
never been to a Persian resort, but it sounds rather enticing, doesn’t it? At
this time Jerusalem was in a state of disrepair, to say the least. It had been passed from one ruler to the
next, and the city was almost completely destroyed. The Jewish people who survived were suffering
unimaginable loss and pain. Nehemiah
heard of this and was overwhelmed with emotions:
“When I heard these things, I sat down and wept. For some
days I mourned and fasted and prayed before the God of heaven.” Nehemiah 1:4
He wept. I don’t
think I’ve ever wept and mourned because someone else was suffering. Sure, I’ll weep when two lovebirds profess
their feelings for one another in a romantic comedy (thanks a lot, estrogen), but I’ve never been moved
to such emotions because I’ve heard of someone’s unfortunate
reality. What strikes me as most
unbelievable is that Nehemiah had everything he could ever ask for. He had never experienced that kind of loss,
yet he was still heartbroken for those people… and chose to do something about
it.
This struck me to the core.
What I thought was frustration that my students couldn’t grasp math
concepts was actually unwarranted arrogance on my part. Here I am, living comfortable in my Persian
palace, and before me in those desks sit people who are broken victims of their
circumstances. If my next meal wasn’t
guaranteed I probably wouldn’t be too concerned about writing decimals properly
either. I have no way of knowing if my
kids are receiving love outside of those school walls, and every day for the
past 2 weeks I’ve trampled over countless opportunities to address the
misguided truths that have taken root in their hearts. I have done nothing to address the lies they
believe. Some world changer I’ve been. It’s time for new perspective.
Tomorrow I enter the classroom with a new goal. I know my students are hurting and it breaks
my heart. But that pain they feel just
points to the fact that their hearts are longing for the paradise they were
created for by a God who desperately wants to fill their empty souls with a
love that never fails. The world tells me it'll be too hard to make them understand that. The Spirit tells me they're worth it...
Challenge accepted.
