Why do I wear myself out to educate them when they seem to care less about anything I have to offer?
I went into teaching because it is a good way to get into other countries. I went into elementary education because I didn’t want to specialize in a subject area. I like teaching math, but figured I would be teaching English in another country. (Couldn’t have foreseen teaching Arabs Arabic!)
Next week, I will finish a sum of 4 years of teaching in elementary schools. Last year, I said I was done. At the start of this year, I thought, “see,” I know why I said “I’m done.” Even with school days that are half the length and only 4 days a week they inevitably end with me flopping my chin into my cupped hands.
Oh where, oh where are my adult students from the days of the language center who would come happy, peaceably, with indoor voices, enjoy the lesson, and then walk out?
As I am preparing to leave, the Father began opening my eyes and doing something in my heart. Adults are nice because of their controlled behavior and ability to discuss and reason but kids…. every morning there is a swarm of them with outstretched hands around me from the moment I step out of the teacher’s bus as they wait to greet me. Every day there are students who grab hold of me and look up into my face with saucer eyes begging me to come visit them today.
On visits, I’ve got that one 5 year old friend who hides behind the wardrobe every time I come so he can jump out, laugh, run, and be swept into my arms. Most of the families I visit have MANY children and I greet them, sit next to them, put them on my lap but for the most part my conversation and focus is with the parents.
“Then children were brought to him that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples rebuked the people, but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”
The kingdom of heaven belongs to such as little children!? There is something that has come over me this week keeping me up to 3:00am tonight as I ponder the many children’s faces that I have seen light up as I come around. I wonder how they love so simply and so deeply. Maybe I have been a little near sighted… catch the adults, children will take too long to grow up.
“At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, ‘Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, ‘Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me.’”
What!? Become like a child? All I’ve been doing is trying to reach adults or at least to turn children into mature beings who will “get it.” WHY? I remember thinking as a child “I will NEVER underestimate children because I will remember how much I understood at this age.” I knew I wanted to do what I do around the age of 5, started journaling at 9, and writing lessons from the good book by 11.
You know the day I felt most discipled and ministered to in my 10 months here? It wasn’t one of the sermons but rather the day my 11 year old believing neighbor sat me down on the sidewalk and gave me a story and lesson from the good book with questions that she had prepared.
All the time I should have been drawing the children near and coaxing the adults to turn and be like them. Why? They love without pretense. They trust without doubt. They haven’t built up all the walls. They approach without fear. They speak freely. They learn from example. They enjoy life. They have tender hearts that yearn for something greater.
“I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.”
And so it was the Father’s gracious will to help me, His child, see children through new eyes!
Whatever age He calls me to next… I hope there will be children around.
My kids
My students
My friends
Their gifts
(Students in America pick daisies for their teachers. Students here pluck roses.)
Their art
Their homes
(normal family size)
Their smiles
Their siblings
(One of six babies I've gotten to hold in their first week of life)
Her work
(Eight years old she came in not knowing how to hold a pencil or how to count to five. A, B, A, B fear that she wasn't making gains. Now she is writing all of her Arabic letters without looking!)
My 11 year old discipler
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