Adversity

He sat in my class last year, an insightful and clever student with nearly illegible handwriting. His attentiveness and interest were a blessing.

Today, he brought a friend to me to ask, "What scriptures got you through tough times?" His question was an honor.

What scripture indeed! So many come to mind. And what did I give them? Two of my favorites. . .

First, I Corinthians 10:13 -- "No temptation has ever overcome you that is not common to man. But God is faithful and will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear, and with every temptation will provide a way of escape that you may be able to endure it."

Second, from Galatians 5 -- "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control." Not the fruits, mind you, but the fruit. One fruit. One Spirit characterized by these qualities, just as a peach is characterized by fuzzy skin; a large, woody pit; sweet juice; and pulp that sticks between your teeth.

How have these helped me in adversity? Simply put, the first promises that no matter how bad things get, I have access to Power enough to avoid misbehaving in the midst of crisis; the second reminds me of the character to display: rather than focusing on anger, focus on gentleness; rather than practicing selfishness, practice kindness; rather than lashing out, be self-controlled. Even when I'm tired. Even when I'm overwhelmed. Even when I'm annoyed. Even when the chaos of Homecoming pummels my senses and makes me want to run for cover.

I'm so glad he came today to ask. . . I needed this reminder! Isn't God good? And isn't He clever -- using the student to teach his teacher? What a blessing!

Unicorn

She loves to hate. Regardless of the activity, the lesson, the humor, the workload, the assignment, the topic, the discussion, she screws up her face in a snarl and rolls her eyes.

Once, I thought I saw her smile, a lovely smile, but it was a fleeting vision, like those of unicorns.

Certain of its existence, I seek that legendary creature day after day. And although I know I can never grasp it, my heart yearns to glimpse it again.

O, Lord, show me how to coax a smile from this child. Can she really be so surly? Is her hard exterior merely a protective barrier behind which hides a tender spirit? Give me another vision of that sweet smile – if only the tiniest tip of the horn.

Peanut Butter

Isn't it remarkable how effortless nonsense is?

One day last week, my students wrote in their journals a judgement: Which character in The Scarlet Letter is the most evil? A ponderous cogitation preluded a tenuous commmencement of composition . . . i.e., it took 'em a while to get cranking on this topic.

The next day, these same students wrote in their journals about peanut butter -- yes, really -- anything that came to mind about this glutinous, protein-punched sandwich spread. Once the shock of being given such a random topic wore off, they wrote furiously. I fancied the smell of smoke rising from pens scorching across pages. And then, lo! and behold -- they wanted to share what they'd written. They wanted to talk about it. They wanted to take a field trip to find some JIF.

The difference? Simply put: one was totally frivolous and fun, and the other was spiritual and serious. They struggled with addressing issues of sin and guilt and condemnation; but they eagerly shared their favorite h'ors d'oeuvre recipes and tales of sack lunches.

When we should "let there be no . . . silly talk, nor levity, which are not fitting" (Ephesians 5:4), we blow it. We forgo discussions of spiritual truth and edification of one another in favor of stuff that just doesn't matter. We read Harry Potter and Popular Mechanics instead of Ephesians. We sing "Listen to Your Heart" and "Mississippi Girl" instead of "How Great Thou Art." And we talk about what's on the lunch menu instead of what's on our hearts.

Oh, for the day we hunger for spiritual food rather than a sandwich.

Rest for the Weary

Today, I must admit frailty. I am exhausted and still have a list of tasks begging attention. To complete them all would be humanly impossible. There is, of course, the "All things are possible with God" principle, but I'm telling you He'd have to stop the sun in its tracks like he did for Joshua at Gibeon. Somehow I don't think the papers I need to grade, the lessons I need to prepare, and the clothes I need to pack are as dire as the battle against the Amorites.

Perhaps what I need is not more time, but better perspective -- the wisdom to set my hand to what is most important rather than most urgent; the wisdom to seek out what is eternal rather than what is temporal; the wisdom to lie down and rest in preparation for another day rather than the foolishness that drives me to work all night and face tomorrow zombified.

Having said that, what am I doing still typing?

God bless, good work, and great faith --

lkl

SAT Scores

Recently, an "All Things Considered" news story on National Public Radio (NPR) relayed reports from the College Board: apparently our students have improved their math scores over the past few years, but they haven't made any progress at all toward improving language scores.

Is it really any wonder?

Math is a finite study. Despite some differences in how the mathematics is taught and the variety of its applications, math is math. The rules of calculus don't change, and they always work. Trigonometric functions are the same on every calculator and every engineer's desk. Not only that, but -- for the most part -- students use this particular discipline while listening to a lesson in class and doing homework at the kitchen table. . . and that's just about it.

On the other hand, language is a vibrant, changing entity. What was "right" twenty years ago may have faded into obscure use by now. More difficult to overcome, though, is the rampant misuse of the language. The same sophomores who close their algebra books when the bell rings at the end of second period will spend the rest of the day speaking, hearing, reading the English language. Chances are, the teacher who taught the day's math lesson, did so effectively; however, the "lessons" in language that bombard these impressionable minds are, for the most part, fraught with error. Television, music, advertisements, internet chat rooms, cell phone text messages, and (dare I mention it?) parents who don't speak correctly themselves "teach" our students more language than any English instructor can correct in a mere fifty minutes a day.

If we're going to consider all things, we should be thrilled that English scores don't drop off into a colloquial morass.

Language: the gift of God to man, worthy of conscientious stewardship.

-lkl

My Mission Field

When I decided to teach, my plan was to work in a public school. I wanted to teach English, but more importantly, I wanted to bring Good News to teenagers whose lives were drifting, directionless, neglected, forgotten.

And what about now? I've spent thirteen years in the classroom, not one of them in a public school. Still, I've found work in a Christian school setting to be worthy, purposeful, life-changing. Perhaps I am spoiled, maybe even a little sheltered. But the lives that come in and out of my classroom every day seek truth and direction just like those in every classroom of every school. They have their own battles to fight, their own mountains to surmount. And I become part of these epic lives.

. . . Not just to teach them reading and writing,
BUT
To watch them take God's hand
To hear them profess faith and testify to His goodness
To taste my own joyful tears at the news of their baptisms
To hold their hands in a circle of prayer
. . . Not just to study words with them,
BUT
To pray with them
To sing with them
To cry with them
To serve with them
To worship with them
. . . Not just to grade them
BUT
To support them
To edify them
To bless them
To inspire them
. . . This is my mission in the Christian school classroom.

-lkl