The Curse of the English Teacher

When people inquire about my profession, I merely state, “I teach high school English.”  This usually elicits guffaws, eye-rolls, and comments like, “God bless you—I could NEVER do that!”  Sometimes I wonder if I actually told people what I do, would I still receive the same reactions.

One of the most difficult aspects of being an educator of teenagers is not being able to help students.  Academic achievement remains high on the priority list, but I’m talking about stuff that goes beyond tests and grades. 

Teaching English, I assign writing topics.  My most recent topic had to do with students reflecting on their hamartia, or greatest flaw that leads to their down-fall.  Many of my students wrote about procrastination or pride, keeping life on the surface level.  But others wrote about pain much deeper than suffering a poor grade because of deferment.  And these students are the ones my heart breaks for.  Paragraphs overflowing with thoughts of inferiority, self-loathing, and insecurities.  Silent voices screaming of wrongs committed by others and themselves.  Cries of helplessness that are terrified to be discovered. 

And in many ways, I am helpless to help.

I have to teach them to analyze literature.

I have to teach them to write essays.

I have to teach them to pass tests.

What I hate most about encountering these inaudible pleas is that I’m legally obligated to report the voices behind them.  And I fear that these reports will irreparably damage the trust my students bestow on me and they will have no one to voice their struggles to.

At the same time, my legal obligation might be the only action that saves a student’s life.

If only people knew what “teaching high school English” really entailed…

Useless Labor

“He said to me, ‘You are my servant, Israel, and you will bring me glory.’ I replied, ‘But my work seems so useless! I have spent my strength for nothing and to no purpose. Yet I leave it all in the Lord’s hand; I will trust God for my reward,’” (Isa. 49:3-4).

I just had a conversation with my mom about how what I’m doing seems so useless.  I keep thinking that God could use me better if I were helping an orphanage, or living in a foreign country “saving the heathens”, or leading the “lost believers” in true, authentic worship.  Somehow, teaching awkward adolescents about Active and Passive voice pales in comparison to the aforementioned tasks. 

I look at someone like Isaiah, the chosen mouth-piece of the Almighty God, and think, this guy has it going on!  He proclaims God’s message to the lost—he brings God glory!  Isaiah is everything I think I want to be (well, I don’t really want to be a man, or despised, rejected, and single…), but even Isaiah feels useless in his job.  He finds no contentment in what he does. 

Contentment is found in this, “Yet I leave it all in the Lord’s hand; I will trust God for my reward,” (Isa. 49:4b, emphasis mine).  There is no rest or reward in “doing” things for the Lord—only in trusting him and leaving life in his hands.  I am still trying to define myself by what I do; no wonder I am so disappointed and restless! 

Isaiah holds the key.  He is everything I want to be (again, not the man part—I would hate having to shave every day!).  Regardless of my job and seemingly useless labor, I leave it in God’s hands and trust him.  He knew what he was doing when he sent Jesus into this world as a baby to bring salvation; I’m pretty sure he knows what he’s doing putting me in charge of 108 9^th graders.  After all, as the traditional American spiritual declares, “He’s got the whole world in His hands”!

The Possibility of the Impossible

“For nothing is impossible with God” (Luke 1:37).

It’s been about four months since I last posted on my blog.  *Sigh*  I’ve become one of those bloggers…  Since my last update in March from Kenya, I haven’t been seeking God out to gain His insight partially because I allowed myself to be taken over by technology and partially because I didn’t know where to start.  And since my blogs are usually inspired by these "God Encounters", you can usually tell when I'm not having them...

Television is a great distractor.  I didn’t know how many shows I was missing until I had so many channels to watch!  But when those channels had nothing of interest to be seen, I always had my iPad to resort to for mindless entertainment.  While I view TV and technology in general a great thing, I have to be careful not to let it consume me.  In hindsight, I think I spent so much time watching TV and playing with my iPad to fill the void of waiting.  I feel like God has been telling me to wait (and continues to do so today).  Coming home from Kenya, I didn’t really have anything to look forward to.  I didn’t have a job prospect.  I didn’t have a “mission trip” to plan.  I didn’t have anything to pour myself into.  Ergo, technology became my filler. 

Even after I was offered a high school teaching position in Colorado Springs (which is a funny story—you should ask me about it if you don’t already know it), God continued to shift things like housing situations so I could not have my future completely planned out but would have to continue waiting. 

So now I’m sitting in a friend’s house, who has graciously offered me a place to stay until I find somewhere to live, and a storage space for all of my crap.  I am in a humbling state of being.  For someone who has always been a “do-it-yourself” person and always had a plan, it’s challenging to allow others to provide for my needs.  I am incredibly grateful for my family and friends who have rallied around me in this period of waiting, yet I find myself straddling the line of despair and trust.  And my friend’s house is a great place to be as I figure out which side of the line to choose.  There are no technological distractions in her house.  No TV.  No internet.  So instead of finding out the latest happenings on FB this morning, I am left to spending time reading my Bible, chatting with God, and typing up my thoughts—a very good place to be.

Luke chapter one tells of two impossible situations; two women who could not be pregnant ARE pregnant.  The first woman is far beyond the years of conceiving, and the other is a young abstinent teenager.  If God can play with our physiology, which He designed in the first place, and make the impossible happen, He can certainly work out whatever situation in my life that seems un-work-out-able.  “For ­nothing is impossible with God” (Luke 1:37, emphasis mine).

 

Thanks to Starbucks for the "free" wifi to post my blog (and catch up on my missing distractions...)!  And thanks to the Stevens' for the Starbucks gift card that enabled me to use the "free" wifi!

Jeremiah 29

Jeremiah 29:11-14 has been my life passage for many years.  I take it as God’s promise to me even though it’s out of context (all the Bible scholars gasp!).  As I was talking with God about my future and my desires this morning, God brought me back to these verses and also the ones leading up to it in chapter 29.  Verses 5-7 particularly stand out to me.  God commands His people to live authentically, even in exile.  He tells them to live life to its fullest—marry, have kids, live peacefully, and benefit the community.  Essentially, make the best of your circumstances in a foreign land, no matter how dire they seem, until God brings you home.

Lately, I’ve been feeling homeless and in some ways exiled.  I just don’t belong anywhere; not Colorado Springs, not Anacortes, not Mexico, or even Kenya.  This has often caused me grief and self-pity—similar to Israel I imagine.  But God brought to my attention today that while I’m waiting for God’s plans to unfold, and I’m longing for Him to take me to my real home, I can’t stop living.  I think this is what it means to be “eternally-minded”.  I need to make the most of my situation whether I’m in the US, Kenya, Mexico, or other geographical locations.  I know I blew it in Mexico—I was “immediately-minded”.  I was miserable and focused on it for 11 months.  I don’t want to make the same mistake again.

My three months (just shy of) in Kenya have been a good start to verses 5-7.  No, I didn’t find a husband, have kids, or build a house, but I believe I benefited the children and staff at this orphanage.  I was present and gave of myself despite the cost (well, most of the time!).  Wherever I end up, I want to live this way until Jesus takes me Home.

My Life as a Cockroach

Sometimes I feel like a cockroach.*

No, I don’t scatter in the light, nor do I congregate in mass with others like me (except on Sundays).  But have you ever noticed that when a cockroach nears the end of its life, it will flip over on its back? 

Today as I was pinning a piece of fabric to hem on the floor of my room, I found a dead cockroach on his back.  Not wanting to pick him up and dispose of his carcass at that moment in time, I blew at him to move the body out of the way.  When the air hit his little body, it flipped him over and he wiggled his legs—“not dead yet” as my father would say quoting one of his favorite movies of all times.  After a few unsteady rocks, he flipped over on his back again.

Myriad circumstances cause me to flip over on my back (death not being one yet), primarily exhaustion—physical, mental, and/or spiritual.  Occasionally a puff of encouragement will come from a friend and it will flip me back on my feet, but not being ready yet, I flop back over.  Unlike a cockroach, I’m not giving up on living.  I simply need some time to just lay there. 

As I observed the cockroach and made my ponderings, the song “Show Me” by Audrey Assad came to mind.  Through the course of the song, the author mentions all the things God can do and the many ways He can use her, but for now she just wants to be and she just wants God to be with her.  I believe God is and will continue to use me for His purposes, and that excites me.  But sometimes I just need to lay on my back like a cockroach, but not dead, and allow God to wash over me.

 

*My use of simile vs. metaphor is intentional.  I am NOT a cockroach but simply share a few characteristics with one.  English lesson over.  Class dismissed!

Two More

Often times I wear humor as a mask.  Not only does it help to protect me, it shields others from realities they cannot face.  Tonight’s blog will be unmasked, fair warning.

After staff meeting today, Carla asked if I would accompany her to the children’s office to pick up two kids who were found abandoned in a forest about two hours from Kitale.  I agreed seeing as I have never been to the children’s office before and it’s always good to have company where multiple children are concerned.  On the drive to the office, Carla explained what she knew of the kids.  They were said to be twins, a boy and a girl, around 1 ½ years of age, and someone found them in a forest outside of a farm and took them to the children’s office in that area.  When the gentleman arrived with the kids, the first thing I noticed was the boy was much bigger and appeared older than the girl, and the red tint to their skin.  Later I asked Carla about their skin, and she said it is a sign of malnutrition, along with the girls reddish hair.  Carla asked the boy what his name was in Swahili, but he talked so quietly no one could understand.  Shortly after that started to get worked up and said he wanted mendazi (no idea on the spelling) which is a fried piece of bread, kind of like a donut.  We were lucky enough to find some food another kid had left behind, and the people in the children’s office gave to kids some chai to drink while the paperwork was being filled out.  When we had the paper stating the known information on the kids and that they were placed into In Step’s care, we put the girl in the car and tried to get her brother to climb in too.  He ran away from Carla—he had to be scared; how many white people has he seen in his life?  And then two of them are trying to take him away…  Carla said in Swahili that we were going to get food, and he got a big smile and let Carla pick him up and put him in the car. 

Due to some health concerns, we stopped by Dr. Shadrach’s clinic (where we take all of our sick kids), and asked him to examine them.  Besides being obviously malnourished, he prescribed de-worming medicine and antibiotics to follow, and also how to treat their feet that were riddled with jiggers (a parasitic bug).  He also estimated that they boy (who was able to tell us his name is Sammy) is about 4 years old, and the girl is about 2 years old.  So we took them home and explained what we knew about the kids and asked the aunties to bathe them.  After a good scrub, Carla and I treated their feet as the doctor recommended and fed them bananas to tide them over until dinner.  While we were working on their feet, Ray (one of the white full-time staff) was making the boy smile and laugh by playing with him.

My heart breaks for these kids.  It’s one thing to read about abandoned children, or even to see them at In Step where they run around happy most of the time, but to be a part of their story is something completely different.  As I said to Carla, I just can’t get over a parent abandoning their child after raising them for 2-4 years.  Deserting a child after birth because you know you can’t take care of them I can wrap my brain around, but bonding with a child and neglecting them and then discarding them in a forest is beyond my abilities to understand.  You could have taken them to child services or at least abandon them in town, but to leave them in the woods with dangerous animals is absolutely unacceptable!  No, I don’t understand the circumstances of the parents, but I saw those two precious kids today—the look of fear, rejection, and hopelessness in their eyes… I don’t have words…

What gives me hope is that these kids have been rescued from whatever situation they were in.  In Step will care for their physical, emotional, and spiritual needs.  They will be fed, clothed, and loved the way all of God’s kids should be.  They will have a future.  It will take some time to adjust to being enveloped by 119 other kids plus various staff, but I know they will be ok.  Praise God for In Step!

Waiting in the Mundane Life

In the words of the old school band of Hokus Pick Manoeuvre, “Time, time, time, time, time keeps a rolling away, oooh” (Does anyone remember this band?  I SO saw them in concert in Anacortes--shows you how "big-time" they were...).

It’s really not my intention to neglect you, my readers.  I find the longer I’m here everything appears “normal”.  I don’t find inspiration in the unusual anymore, so I’m trying to find material in the “mundane” and hoping it seems peculiar to you.

In the afternoons, the kids who are too young to attend preschool take naps.  Around 3pm they start to awaken.  Think Zombie Apocalypse meets miniature Kenyan.  Some kids wake up on their own, but others are summoned from the dead by the aunties (care takers).  Regardless, they stumble through the metal door, tottering to keep their balance with arms thrust in front, and many sob uncontrollably.  The aunties then line them up and sit them down for some life-giving beverage (brains perhaps?) and then usher them outside to divide and wreak havoc upon the compound.  While they may not be shouting “Brains”, the Kiswahili they roar is just as scary.

Another phenomenon (well, maybe to you) is the Kenyan Word-of-Mouth network.  This is like a large scale version of the game “Telephone” but more accurate.  I’ll be wheeling one of the contraptions I strap Wanjiku in, and one kid will ask, “What’s that for?”  I explain "it’s Wanjiku’s car," and continue travelling towards the Baby House.  A few moments later, a herd of snot-lockers from the opposite  direction runs by yelling, “Jiko’s car!  Jiko’s car!”  I don't know if they use telepathy, smoke signals, or carrier-pigeons, but they ALL KNOW!  Another example is my name.  I swear I only told a few kids my name, but now wherever I go, kids yell, “KARI!” at the top of their lungs.  I have no idea who most of the kids are, but they know me!

On a completely different note, I’ve been reading the book of Judges (highly entertaining if you’re looking for bizarre tales).  I’ve reached the story of Gideon (chapter 7), and I’m chewing on verses 17 and 18:  [after the angel of the Lord chats with Gideon] “Gideon replied, ‘If now I have found favor in your eyes, give me a sign that it is really you talking to me.  Please do not go away until I come back and bring my offering and set it before you.’  And the Lord said, ‘I will wait until you return’” (NIV, emphasis mine).  Many worship songs declare, “I will wait upon the Lord”, but it’s not so often that I hear the Lord say, “I will wait upon you.”  The picture that this passage paints mesmerizes me.  It’s not like God doesn’t have anything better to do—He has a world to run, His creations to take care of, and His way-ward people to chase down, but the Lord chooses to wait.  I’m sure it takes Gideon a while to prepare the goat and unleavened bread, and God waits patiently under the oak tree.  I don’t picture this as someone sitting under a tree twiddling his thumbs, but rather someone resting in the shade and in no hurry to move.  Sometimes I wish I was gifted in painting or drawing so I could depict the scenes in my brain… words fail me so often.  When I’m waiting on God, I feel like I have a bazillion projects and tasks to accomplish, when really I don’t have anything better to do other than wait—yet that’s the last thing I want to do.  I usually don’t choose to wait on God; rather God strips away my other options to make me dependent upon Him.  This isn’t a forced option—I still have free will to choose, but rather God takes away other options that seem good and leaves me with two options: chase my tail like a dog or rely and wait on God—the latter is clearly the superior option.  So instead of resting under an oak tree, just enjoying where I’m at while God works on whatever it is He’s working on, I’m fidgeting and twiddling my thumbs and pacing back and forth.  I think God allows me to work myself into a tizzy so that I have to rest out of pure exhaustion.  Then, after He’s deemed I’ve rested enough, He gives me the plan. 

I think I need to go take a nap under a tree.