The video below is a direct example of all of the above (and maybe I wanted to know what it feels like to be a rock-star, even for a moment). I hope it makes you laugh, too.
Song mashup edited by this gal, as well.
In the same way that all good parents enjoy embarrassing their children, this teacher is always looking for ways to surprise and embarrass her students. I adore making my kids laugh. OR! Something I truly love is getting muffled head shake and hidden grin out of them. The video below is a direct example of all of the above (and maybe I wanted to know what it feels like to be a rock-star, even for a moment). I hope it makes you laugh, too. "Choreographed" by yours truly.
Song mashup edited by this gal, as well.
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So, today wasn’t a great day in the life of this teacher. My second period class was a nightmare. My students were distracted and rude. They didn’t want to do their work, didn’t want to listen… and I made the poor decision of returning their disrespect with sarcasm and less than encouraging sass. I regret my decision to react badly, but it is three weeks from the end of the semester and I’m so tired. Today, I am so tired of pushing students, fighting students… of giving my all and getting only complaint, laziness, and frustration back. In the final moments of that second period class, I felt myself getting choked up at the exhaustion from being torn down and ignored by the very people I have pledged to serve. My day went from bad to worse when my next class of students came in, a group of kids I adore in comparison to their predecessors, and informed me of two students in my second period talking during lunch about how much they dislike me as their teacher. *overwhelmed by the feeling of earth shattering* (melodramatic? Yes. But today it felt pretty accurate). Now, my college professors who are reading this are chanting in my ear “QUIT TAKING IT PERSONALLY!” (I still hear you, Dr. B!) I hear my mom’s voice chastising kindly, “Honey, if you react badly to them they’re just going to keep acting up. Set an example”. Meanwhile, the echoes of my fellow teachers are whispering in my ear, “They’re teenagers. That’s how they act.” I know all this. I promise I know. But in that moment, all I felt was complete and utter failure. One of third period students tried to comfort me by saying, “I told them they were wrong, that I love you as a teacher. They said, ‘That’s the first time I’ve heard anyone say anything good about her.’ And I was like, you are nuts.” I know she meant to help, but in that moment all I heard was the part about no one saying anything nice about me. When my last class left, I shut my classroom door and cried at my desk. The tears streamed down sitting in front of this computer thinking about all the awful things my second period students had said today, both in and out of my class. I thought about how unkind they were and I felt ashamed of my own bitterness in return for their hurtful words. I sat here focusing in on all the negative things. I stared at this computer. I frowned and cried and stared. Then, by chance, I shifted my gaze barely a few inches below my computer. Around my computer I have taped over fifteen notes students have written me just this semester. I dragged my eyes across them and read notes that say things like: “I <3 Ms. Manning”, “Isabella <3s you!”, “You’re an amazing teacher!”, “Ur cool”, “I like your class”, “I hope you’re having a good day! You’re awesome!”, “Thank you for always making class fun and good to learn!”… I was sitting here surrounded by these wonderful and encouraging sticky notes that my students have left me over the past few months — all the while, thinking about how awful my kids were, how horrible I was. I was literally seated here enveloped by kindness and love, but all I could see or here were the negative and hurtful things. I skimmed over these wonderful, impromptu notes kids have left me and pondered how often I do this in my life. In the midst of so many blessing, my focus on the negative, the hard and difficult, and that focus blinds me to the good wishes! I fixate on the disappointment and rejection and completely veil myself from all the love and kindness I’ve experienced. It’s like walking to a doorway, stumbling into the darkness when you have five or six flashlights strapped to your belt. It’s poisonous, cruel, and frankly just plain idiotic. Dear me, do you realize how wrong it is to purposefully put out your eyes from seeing love and compassion and only centralize your sight on all the dissatisfaction? Stop it! So, I’m sitting here at this same desk. I'm soaking in these lovely cards and writing this blog to my future self. To remind me that I’m going to make mistakes… have bad days… make lousy decisions as a teacher… I’m going to hurt and be hurt by my students... but I CANNOT let myself lose sight of the big picture. The big picture says fifteen kids wrote you nice notes for no reason. Simply for the pleasure and appreciation of you! That in and of itself is an honor. You have so much to be thankful for. You have so much goodness to hold onto. More than anything you have a majestic and mighty God who loves you with everything He is (and girl, He's A LOT). He’s holding your hand and walking in step with you. You know this. Don't forget it. To myself: You are golden, Manning. Say you’re sorry, let God forgive you, forgive yourself, and do better tomorrow… because there are fifteen or more kids that are counting on you being the best you can be.
I have titled this “How I Became A Teacher” and not “Why I Became A Teacher” because becoming a teacher was really an unexpected turn of events for me. When I was a young girl I had no interest in working with people. Other than my third grade self, who had an all consuming passion for Peter Pan, and drew pictures of herself as the “First Lost Girl” in Neverland. All my life, animals were my passion. I went from wanting to be a horse rancher, to a park ranger, safari guide, and finally a wildlife conservationist. “Crocodile Hunter” Steve Irwin was my hero in high school. I wanted to travel the world as an environmentalist saving endangered species around the world.The idea of becoming a teacher had never crossed my mind as something I would pursue. However, looking back, I can see how God orchestrated so many things to point me on the path of education. I had many teachers and adults who would impact my decision to become a teacher. However, I think this story most assuredly starts with my favorite eighth grade English Language Arts teacher, Mr. Davy Meister. Mr. Meister was so much more than a teacher to me though. Through the years, he would become one of my greatest cheerleaders, guides, even my friend. He was a major influence in putting me on the path that would lead me to discovering God’s plan for my life. Mr. Meister and I became close during my high school years when we both served in our church’s children's ministry. We were part of an acting, singing, and puppetry group together and we bonded well. With Mr. Meister, the performances were more improv than memorized theatre. We interacted with the kids, and ad-libbed all over the place. But I loved it. It was during performances with Caraway Street that one elderly church woman first said to me, “You’re so talented and good with kids. I think you should be a teacher.” I laughed and said thank you. It was a kind comment, but I really thought no more than a compliment In sixth through eighth grade, I had performed in multiple musicals directed by Mr. Meister. I was everything from a baby angel in “The Best Christmas Pageant ever” to a townsperson/Well Fargo wagon horse in “The Music Man”. It was through Mr. Meister that I had discovered my love and passion for theatrical arts. When I got to high school I stopped performing. The reason? I was too intimidated by my peers to audition for even a part in the ensemble, much less a lead. I would say that is a decision I regret, but I don’t anymore. Let me tell you why. When I got to be a junior in high school Mr. Meister asked if I wanted to stay after school and help out backstage with the middle school musicals he was still directing. He needed crew and he believed me to be the woman for the job. The musical was “Honk! Jr.”, the story of the ugly duckling. That invitation would change my life. During my senior year, and into my first two years of college, I returned every semester to help Mr. Meister with every show he did. I didn’t stay a simple stage hand. He promoted me every year. Choreographer, stage manager, crew chief, finally co-director. I look back and marvel at the fact that Mr. Meister trusted a 16-20 year old student with so much responsibility. I can never repay or thank Mr. Meister enough for the experiences I had working with these musicals. I learned so much, at times managing anywhere from 50-70 middle school students backstage. I loved it and got to be involved in some incredible performances. “Annie”, “You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown”, “Snoopy: The Musical”, and “Mulan Jr.” It was through this I learned how much I enjoyed working with young people. I remember my mom saying, “If you can handle that many middle school kids and like it, you should teach!” For the first time, it wasn’t a compliment. It was an option. My final semester of my associates degree I took an introductory education class. Just to see if this was something I was serious about. I observed classes from third grade through twelfth. My heart was in reaching older students. In helping kids realize dreams and goals, like Mr. Meister had helped me realize mine. Pushing students to do things they never believed they could. Middle through high school years are difficult enough with hormones, emotions, changes, and a lot of big decisions. I wanted to be able to impact students on a life-long scale. The Lord was continually working on my heart and though I still desperately loved animals, but I realized that people are eternal. My heart was in making an eternal difference, not a temporary one. I felt the Lord calling me to teach, calling me to bring his love to those who are without hope. My classroom is not my job. English isn’t even my greatest passion. Teaching is not my career. My classroom is my mission field. My abilities in English is a blessing and gift. Teaching is my God-given calling. My desire is to see the Lord transform lives through my willingness to obey and become a teacher. I am incredibly blessed that God chose me for this position. Since I was a little girl, my father always told me that I shouldn't overuse the words “I love you” because when you use them too much, they cease to have the same value. At first, it was a confusing concept, but overtime I began to understand it. I began to grasp what it means to save saying “I love you” for those special moments and special people when they mean the most. I agreed that love is not a word to be trodden on and overused unthinkingly. Later in life, I heard the counter-argument that we should say “I love you” as often and as many times as possible. Better to say “I love you” too much than too little, right? As soon as I heard this theory, I knew I agreed with it as well. We don’t know when our last day will come and it is a blessing to be sure that when we leave this earth, our loved ones will know beyond the shadow of a doubt that we love them. However, after I became a high school teacher, I saw more and more the words “I love you” being used in a way that demeaned them, deprived them of their deep and powerful meaning. Among my students, “I love you” has become as common as expressions like “OMG”, “like”, and “cool”. Now listen, I’m not going to go on a rant about how we shouldn't say things like “I love pizza” or “I love some famous celebrity I've never met” (*cough* I love Colin Morgan *cough*) because the truth is I’ve said things like this far too often and probably in the same sentence… but that’s not the point. No, the point of this blog is that when I see these 16-18 year-old teenagers texting and commenting things like, “i love you :)”, “luv u!”, etc.... It makes me wonder. All these little comments on the surface are, I’m sure, truly meant to be sweet and thoughtful… Yet, I have to ponder to myself, what do these students mean when they send things like that? When a teenage boy comments to a teenage girl “love you more!!!” Do they really have any concept of what love is? Because meanwhile I’m sitting here at 23 years of age thinking to myself “I don’t even know what love is… so how do they?” In order to try and process this... I had to ask myself a different question. What is my definition of love? At the core of what I think and believe there must have be some sort of qualifying idea of what love is. The answer came surprisingly fast. My definition of love is a prince choosing to leave behind a perfect home, a place of goodness, power, peace, and majesty in order to come to an evil, dark, and death-ridden earth. This prince left his home all in order to die a brutal, falsely-condemned death with the purpose of sparing and saving generations of lost people. That prince, Jesus Christ, showed his love by paying the price of all, facing the darkness of Hell and Satan in order to preserve a people who all too often have turned their back on Him. That is my core definition of love. The Bible reads, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends” (John 15:13). Later in Romans the author writes, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). Jesus considered us friends even when we chose to be strangers, even enemies, to Him. It’s such a simple concept, such an easy passage to think… but to truly process this love? To truly search your heart for what this really means? Can you imagine that love? "This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent So here’s the thing about my “I love you”... When I tell my students I love them, I’m not saying it meaning, “You’re important to me, I value you, I’m glad you’re in my life,” though these are all nice thoughts. Instead, when I tell my students, my family, my friends, “I love you,” what I mean is, “I am willing to die for you. I am committed to give up everything in my life for you. I would sacrifice all of me in order to bring about righteousness in your life.” Obviously, until this is truly tested one can easily doubt my conviction. I don’t know what it would feel like to actually have to make that decision. The choice to die FOR someone. Still, what I do know is that I am ready for heaven. I do not fear death. I do not fear losing my life because I know where I am going when I die, and more importantly, who I am going to be with. Finally, when I tell someone I love them, I pray that I am conveying to them a Christ-like commitment telling them that I would give up everything in order to show how much I love them. When I say I love someone, I mean “I am willing to die for you… as Jesus died for me.” Jesus died for me when I was worth nothing. No matter who you are or what you’ve done, you mean everything to God. You are worth so much in God’s eyes. You matter. You are priceless. Believe that. That being said, like my earthly father, people may hear “I love you” less from my lips then they would like to. The times I say it will never be in joke, fear, pressure, or swift salutation. When I tell someone I love them, I hope they realize what that really means for me. My love is cannot fleeting because it is backed by the eternal and holy God of love. At the end of the day though, what it really comes down to is; to me, love isn’t about an emotion, a feeling, a simple remark of how important someone is. When I say “I love you,” I recognize that my love needs to be an action. I’m not merely meaning jumping in front of a bullet for someone. I’m speaking of how I choose to live my life… my love is in that. I believe that I should SHOW you I love you long before you ever hear me say it out loud. My actions should say “I love you” first. In conclusion, when I see and hear young people throwing out “I love you” in the same pattern that they throw out hashtags and “lols”... so nonchalant and meaningless, I’m not going to be angry about it. Instead, I’m going to let it remind me that I want my “I love you” to mean soooo much more than a simple expression of endearment. I want my “I love you” to echo a willingness to serve, to listen, to trust, to put you first, to never give up, and most of all a willingness to love through sacrifice. Therefore, my challenge to my readers is this: What is your definition of love? How are your actions echoing this definition? Lastly, how is your “I love you” reflecting the God who said it to you first? "We love because He first loved us." 1 John 4:19 Greetings reader!
I’m on my sixth week as a full time high school English teacher. It’s been amazing, terrifying, eye-opening, exhausting, and exhilarating all at once. I can’t believe how quickly it’s going. I really love my job. It’s hard, but I REALLY love it. I’m sitting right now jotting this down quickly as my students work in groups reading excerpts from various Arthurian legends. In this moment, I’m thinking… this is my job?! THIS IS MY JOB!!! I sit listening to my students reading stories of gallant knights, fierce sword fights, beautiful damsels, and shady sorceresses plotting against the king. In this moment, I can only think to describe my job as wonderfully magical… which is ridiculously cheesy in light of what we are studying... and in light of my obsessions… but also perfect. Haha. I probably could already write a hundred pages on the adventures I’ve experienced within this classroom in these few short weeks. Yet, today I’m not going to tell you a story of my grand successes or failures as a teacher. Instead, I’m going to tell you about the simplest victory I’ve experienced during my time here. Really, I can only boast in the Lord’s hand in this victory… and that I think, is what makes it so special. I have a student in one of my classes. We’ll call him Stan. Stan is your classic camo wearing country boy who has no trouble looking for trouble. He’s not a bad kid, but he can play the part if circumstances require it of him. Stan is a student that I can tell has been disappointed by a lot of teachers. I think Stan’s been ignored a lot. The only time he gets attention is when he acts badly. This has given him the idea that most all his teachers don’t like him, therefore he doesn’t like them. Now I can see he’s gotten to the point where he realized that his only defense against a teacher’s disapproval of him is to make their lives miserable. If he can’t get their attention for good behavior, he might as well get it for bad. This is a reputation he has established for himself within the walls of this school. The first few weeks, Stan and I had to figure each other out. He didn’t know how serious I was about negativity and unkindness towards others, while I was watching out for a student who was determined to convince himself I was another teacher out to get him for bad behavior. I did my best to convince him I was on his side and glad he was in my class. I prayed hard that the Lord would help me to love my students in a way I didn’t know possible, especially the ones who are determined to be hard to love. From about week four, Stan has everyday become more or less a well-behaved student. Then, just the other day, Stan came to me when the students were going to work in partners on a vocabulary activity and asked, “Miss Manning, may I please sit in your stool to work with Charlie?” I was extremely pleased at his politeness and smiling said, “Absolutely! Thank you for asking so nicely.” Right after I said this, his friend Charlie called out, “Don’t get used to it Miss Manning!” I frowned. “That was NOT very nice Charlie,” I chided. “It’s okay Miss Manning,” Stan cut in, “He’s right.” “What do you mean he’s right?” I inquired. “Well,” Stan said, “I’m bad in most of my classes.” “You’re not bad in here,” I responded. “Yeah, well,” Stan shrugged, “most of my teachers don’t like me so I don’t like them… so I act bad.” It was a simple confession; one could almost look over it. Instead I saw it as a shining break-through. In a roundabout way, the Lord had given me a simple victory with this one special student. Nothing other than the love of Christ in me had allowed for this great gift. This small victory. That single confession meant more to me than all the continually well-behaved students. Stan's attitude about this class, about me as his teacher, had changed... and it had changed him. The thankfulness I experienced from this small gift reminded me of the widow’s offering in Mark 12:41-44. “Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.” I praise God for the blessing of recognizing this simple, but priceless gift. An open letter to the students I taught during my student teaching. Dear Student, First, I want to thank you for playing such a vital role in helping me pursue my dreams. I have a passion for English, teaching, and literature; and without a doubt, being able to teach you has been the highlight of my college career. I’ve loved getting to know you, discover alongside you, and watch you grow and learn over the course of these past 12 weeks. I can hardly believe it. I’m finally receiving my Bachelor’s Degree! Sometimes it seems like it took ages to get here, but at other times it feels like only a few days. Either way you look at it, it’s so exciting! This little African girl is out of the rural, desert village and moving out into the unknown of life... on the other hand, that is actually terrifying. Haha. As my graduation approaches, I find myself pondering the road I’ve taken to get to this place. My story. How special it is to have you as part of my story that brought me to this point. You are a piece I will NEVER forget. In life, we are never promised an easy or clear path. However, I can’t help but remember what Ralph Waldo Emerson shared. While we cannot choose ‘the garden’ we're given, we do choose what we plant in it. Thank you for being a part of my life. Thank you for daily teaching ME what it means to be a more effective practitioner, caring leader, and life-long learner. I adore teaching. Even in the rough days, it was you and your classmates that reminded me why what I do is so worth it. You are worth it. Every moment of trial and struggle is worth seeing learning in order to come out on top. Sure, I had to learn some things the hard way, but I feel the positive rewards much outweigh the struggle. I have grown so much during my time with you. I wish I could remind you for everyday of the rest of your life that YOU ARE AWESOME. I really, truly believe that. You are beautifully and wonderfully made! I feel honored to have been able to be a part of your high school education. My prayer is that you will pursue whatever dream, desire, or hope you have and give whatever it takes to attain it. Find what gives you purpose in life and chase it down. Do not be afraid to give your all in EVERYTHING (yes that includes high school). I know school can be tiring and sometimes seem pointless, but it’s not. The human mind and its capacity to learn is truly a miracle. Don’t let your brilliance go to waste! I believe in you! Give yourself the chance to learn, and you will open up doors and windows to places you never thought you’d reach. I wish you all the best in the rest of this year and all the years to follow! You’re almost done! You’ve achieved so much, keep moving forward! I hope you won’t forget what we learned about in class in regards to standing up for what you believe in and the power of forgiveness and sacrifice. Okay, I’m done going all ‘motivational football coach’ on you, haha. I love you all dearly! Know you are in my thoughts and prayers! God bless, Miss Manning “There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried.” His name was Riley. I don't know where he is or what he is doing now, but Riley is the student who taught me what it means to be a teacher. Riley is every teacher's worst nightmare. He talks back, he doesn't do his work, he swears in class, he threatens other kids, he gets in fights, and he gets caught smoking in the school bathroom weekly... and the kid is only 15 years old. When I first had the opportunity to do my field experience in Riley's class, it was not because of bad behavior that I noticed him. Instead, the reason I noticed Riley was because of the invisible wall I saw built up every time his teacher cracked a joke at his expense in front of the whole class. When all the other kids weren't looking, I noticed a child with few friends who wore the same three pairs of clothes to school every day. I saw past the tough, problem child bravado to see a scared boy living in constant fear of rejection and ridicule. I saw a lonely youth in desperate need of some sort of hope. Swiftly, God drew me toward Riley and he became my ‘project’. I felt a calling to help Riley feel safe within the classroom and I made it my goal to get him involved in classroom discussion (discussion that wasn't him angrily spouting off how much he hates his school, peers, or teachers) and activities. When all you ever hear from your regular teacher is that you are the lowest level student, or you'll be "lucky if you make it through this year, much less graduate", or be jokingly compared to garbage... what reason do you have to care about school or any of the people in it? Being a silent observer in the back of that classroom, I was clearly able to see Riley's bad behavior was nothing more than a defense mechanism to deflect the hurtful words of authority figures and peers. Riley was scared to let his guard down. He was scared to open his mouth to say anything in class for fear of how his teacher would twist the words and put him down. His peers only followed the behavior and treatment they saw modeled in their teacher... all at the expense of Riley. I watched fellow student and teacher alike dismiss this embittered child as a trouble-maker with no feelings, fears, or dreams. The first thing Riley ever asked me was, "So, do you like... LIKE kids or something?" It seemed to shock Riley that there may be teachers out there who actually liked and enjoyed being around youths. "As a matter of fact I do!" I replied to him happily standing beside his desk. This place would become my most prominent station during my time in this classroom. Why? Because standing beside Riley's desk was the only way to ensure he would actually pay attention in class or do the classwork assigned to him. Unexpectedly, Riley and I, more or less, became allies. He realized I was on his side and seemed not to mind that I stood by his desk and continually reminded him to stay on task, listen close, and not pick a fight with the students sitting around him. When I began teaching, I always made sure to smile at him when he answered a question in class. At the beginning of class, I posted myself at the door to be sure to greet each and every student as they entered. I made sure to always address Riley by name so that he knew he mattered to me. The second question Riley ever asked me was, "So, are you a Christian?" "What makes you ask that, Riley?" I pondered. "I don't know, you're nice. You seem like someone who believes in God," was his unsure reply accompanied by a shrug of indifference. I never take it lightly when someone asks me if I'm a Christian. I first feel overwhelmingly blessed that God has chosen me to bear fruit that reflects him, and despite fact I was a visitor in a public school I was not going to stay silent about my faith. "I do believe in God, Riley. And more importantly than that, I believe God called me to be a teacher... and to be in this class right now even." "I never understood that," was Riley's reply. Sadly, class started and I was never able to continue that conversation with Riley, but I pray often for the seed that God may have planted in that young boy's heart. One day, Riley was having a particularly bad day. He was assigned to work in a group of students sitting beside me and as he walked over he let out the strongest curse word I've heard in quite some time. It was really no more than a few seconds, but my mind was racing. In my Classroom Management class we had just discussed students cursing in order to get rise out of their teachers... I knew that was exactly what Riley was doing now. One thing that class taught me is to never give a student the reaction they're expecting, but at the same time I knew I couldn't completely let the curse word slide. I had to say something to show Riley he hadn't gotten to me, but also make it clear it was not to be tolerated. A method we learned in class was when the student swears, call him or her out for saying the craziest word you can think of then steer them back to the material at hand. So I said the first thing that came to my mind, "Fire trucks, Riley? Why in the world are you talking about fire trucks!? You're supposed to be working on propaganda projects. Get back to work man!" Riley and his classmates stared at me in utter confusion. I really wish I had a snapshot of the looks on those boys' faces. Of all the reactions they had expected me to have (probably something angry and cruel like their normal teacher, with a detention) that had certainly NOT been it. I went on to teach a few lessons in that class, half of them being about Homer's "The Odyssey". Through this I discovered Riley's hidden genius. Riley knew all about Greek mythology. How? A little, but lovely book series titled "Percy Jackson". Without the threat of embarrassment or attack by the teacher, Riley shined. His enthusiasm for being engaged and sharing his knowledge and interest was so wonderful. When given the opportunity, this trouble-maker was really nothing more than a talented, intelligent young man hiding behind the fear of rejection. Seeing him come out of his shell was so exciting. I learned so much from this class. Despite the frustration and difficulty of working under a teacher who admitted to me he hates teaching, children, and admitted to me on day one he wished he had chosen a different career... that lack of love and guidance in the classroom brought this overflowing passion into my heart for these students. I never would have imagined caring so strongly about a class, but I felt it deeply for the first time with these students. Teaching found a whole new definition for me. All these kids were special. Good ole Riley perhaps more than any of them... I don't think anyone had ever taken the time to get to know him and see how special he was. All he needed was one person to give him a kind word instead of another detention. The last question Riley ever asked me was if we could stay in touch after I left. Legally, student teachers are not allowed to give any sort of personal information to their students. I took it as a great compliment thought that Riley had seen that I had gone out of my way to be kind and encouraging to him. I imagine Riley didn't have many people like that in his life. Perhaps, little, untalented, crazy ME had made a difference in someone’s life. When I had to tell him I couldn't give him any of my contact information my heart went out to the sad look on his face. This child was so desperately in need of care and support. Suddenly, I felt God's words filling up my heart. I went full-fledged pep talk on him, haha. "Riley, you're going to be okay. You are. You are so smart. Remember how you knew more than anything in the class about Greek Mythology? You can do this Riley. I believe in you. You are a bright young man and I know you will do great things. And Riley, I'm sorry. Teachers are human, you know? They make mistakes and they don't always treat you the way they should. I hope you'll forgive them for how badly they've treated you. You can prove them wrong though. I believe in you. I know you're going to be okay. I will be praying for you, alright? You can do this, don't give up." Riley nodded before slowly turning away from me and walking down the hallway. It's so hard, in that moment I wanted to fix everything. There is this overwhelming need to protect and make things right for these amazing children in such difficult positions. Seeing his sad face I called out after him, "And Riley! No more smoking in the bathroom!" Riley turned, giving me a mischievous teenage smile, "no promises," he replied. That's the last time I saw Riley. I often wonder what happened to him. I pray for him whenever I think to. I wish I could thank him. I am so thankful for that trouble-making boy... I'm so thankful to God for putting me in that very difficult classroom because it was there that I found my "teacher's heart". I found the God-given burden to love on God children in any and every way that I can. I can never thank God enough for allowing me the opportunity to see God pull his children from the ashes and experience even a moment of great personal success. I look forward to meeting more Rileys in my life. The Boy Who Taught the Teacher. Despite their need to talk about fire trucks, pick fights, and smoke in the bathroom... I am so excited to see how God is going to allow me to witness a child of his reflecting the glory of a mighty and radiant God of love. What an adventure it will be! "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; If service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching;"
~ Romans 12:6-7 |
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