Code Switching

I teach my students about code-switching: you know, that thing we all do when we use language in different ways for different purposes? 

In an effort to set some guidelines for writing with an academic voice, I began at the opposite end of the spectrum, that really casual space where they live:

·      We talked about the characteristics of a tweet and then wrote some. Yes, we Tweeted in English class.

·      We talked about the characteristics of email and then wrote some. This activity doubled as a method to ensure that students have my school email address correctly into their contact list. 

·      We talked about the characteristics of real mail – oh, what blessed treats brought by the United States Postal Service! Handwritten and heartfelt epistles, glowing from the usual stack of junk mail. And then we wrote some mail:  thank you notes, to be exact.

The tweets and the email both highlighted one really amazing thing that happened over the summer. Some tweeted and emailed about going to Disney, some about a new phone, some about an especially supportive and listening ear during a difficult time.  

Following that pattern, students wrote thank you notes to the person or people who made those amazing things happen in their lives. They practiced salutations and formal language; they wrote first drafts and then copied them into thank you cards I had picked up at the Dollar Store; they addressed envelopes and identified where the postage goes.

But the nugget of Truth came when we talked about the importance of writing – and sending – notes of gratitude. I told them that, when I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to spend birthday or Christmas money until I had written a thank you note. A very few of them nodded in approval of such a restriction, but most thought the requirement ludicrous.  So I went to the cross…

“God has made us to crave gratitude. Haven’t you ever done something nice for someone who acted like it didn’t even matter? It hurts, doesn’t it? Imagine how God feels when we act like the sacrifice of His Son doesn’t matter? On the other hand, imagine what joy it brings Him when we live our whole lives in appreciation for what He did! Surely a thank you note to someone who took you to DisneyWorld or got you a new puppy or took you to see Wonder Woman is a small way to practice a life of gratitude.”

I don’t know if this seed will bear fruit, but it was planted in the hearts of freshmen on Tuesday of this second week of school.

Thank you, Lord, for your sacrifice – coming to earth, dying for us while we were sinners, conquering death, filling us with your Spirit. Let us live so that our appreciation is always evident.

Now, excuse me while I go write a thank you note to a former student who brought me a lovely gift just before school began.

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This is a Test

I have a reputation as a hard teacher.

I also have a reputation for being fair and fun. That seems like a pretty good mix to me, but today I am painfully aware of the hard part.

Today is Summer Reading Test Day, and almost all of the students in this class sat in these seats last year. They know me. They know my tests. They know my expectations.

So they are sweating.

At the beginning of class, we prayed together. When I handed out the test, I said, “I’ll be praying for you while you take your test.” But still, they are sweating.

They write feverishly about The Old Man and the Sea, about The Glass Menagerie, about Fahrenheit 451. They bubble in A-B-C-D while thought bubbles above their own heads grow and rise and pop again and again. They check the upside-down clock on my wall. They reread what they have written and edit. They ask for clarification. They lean intently over their desks, noses to a literary grindstone.

I usually use this time to learn names, writing them over and over again as I look at faces, reading the tidbits of information they wrote on 3x5 cards for me the first day of class. But there are few new faces, so that doesn’t take long.

As I go through my information cards, looking for specific details to connect me to them, I begin to pray for each one, just as I had promised.

And then I think, “What if I let each one KNOW I have prayed specifically for him, for her, by name?”

I get out little post-it notes and begin writing:  “God, Bless Ellis as he tests.” One row at a time, I write notes of prayer. And then I put them on their desks. A few look surprised. One especially confident fellow begins to tear up. One girl, whose answer to “What else do I need to know about you?” was “Pray for me to excel in this class” smiles up at me when I drop that note onto her desk. 

This is a test. Theirs was over classic literature. Mine was over prayer and promises and powerfully changing the spirit of another person with just a few words. Theirs won’t matter in three months; mine will last an eternity.

I think I passed.

Now, excuse me while I unleash my red pen on these essays so that we can move on to the next hard lesson.

New Beginnings

First day of school. Newly sharpened pencils. Fresh notebooks. Expectant faces.

They wonder, despite years of rumors, what I will really be like. I wonder, because I'm getting older and my memory isn't what it used to be, how long it will take me to learn their names-- and whether the wifi will support the introductory activities -- it didn't, if you must know. But most of all, perhaps, we all wondered what Jesus would look like in Room 214 this year.

Oh, I doubt any of them looked at Mom after she took the obligatory 1st Day of School picture and said, "I wonder where I'll see Jesus today..."

But I guarantee every one had wordless questions pounding through their hearts:
Will she be fair?
Will she be kind?
Will she like me?
Will she get mad if I mess up or will she be patient with me when I don't understand?
Will she embarrass me in front of my friends or protect my spirit?
Will she pray for me?
Will she stand up for what's right?
Will she speak words of truth?

No matter what lessons I teach, the way they see Jesus in me matters more.

So, Lord, show me how to reflect you every day, not just in the opening prayer of each class, but in the lessons, the conferences, the asides between classes in the hallway, the comments on papers, the cheers at football games. Be ever present in this classroom and in the footsteps I take, those steps that will make a path for so many to follow. Let me never misguide them, but always direct their steps to you. Let it be. O, let it be so.