A teacher’s perspective

 “Madame, what did I miss yesterday?” 

I close my eyes for a second, pretending to reflect on what we did yesterday. Truthfully, I don’t remember. I can barely remember what I’ve prepared for today. 

But even more truthfully, I’m just fuming inside. How hard is it, really, for my kids to take the initiative and check online to find out for themselves? I post the class PowerPoint and everything else we did in class every single day. Online. At the touch of a mouse. Just take thirty seconds and figure it out for yourself, I mutter in my head. 

“Umm yes, we practiced conjugating -er verbs because we are taking a quiz today.”

Wrong thing to say. Next thing I know, three kids are like, “We have a quiz today?? What!? Can we retake it?” 

I do an invisible eye roll and say, “Oui.” No matter how many times I tell them to study for a quiz...

This has to be one of my least favorite questions of all time, having a student ask what we “did in class yesterday”. It’s frustrating because I go to so much extra work to make everything accessible, especially for those students at home in quarantine or who are online now because they’re at risk for Covid. 

But as I have been pondering on several frustrating things going on in my teaching world, I’ve realized something I have never thought about before. 

Just like I at times feel frustrated and burdened by the expectations of students, who expect me to bend over backwards to help all the time, perhaps sometimes Heavenly Father feels sad in the same way. I shouldn’t expect God to make life easier when I want him to and how I want him to. Why? Because that isn’t how it works. If I expect my kids to not demand so much of me, I understand that I cannot expect the same thing from my Father in Heaven. Of course, He wants me to ask for help and strength and he wants me to have hopes and dreams for my life. But I am to learn to respect his timing and his will for when and how those dreams and those hopes will be realized. 

I know I can be more patient with these kids - all 120 of them. Because God is patient with me. I’m still learning, I’m still growing. And I still need to know, even for me, can I retake that quiz? Can I have one more day to do the homework? Can you help remind me what I learned yesterday, and how I can improve today? 

Great teachers, after all, teach by example and experience, and not just with words. 

My journey

I stare at my face, my figure, my eyes...

And dare not to smile, for I believe all the lies :

That I’m ugly and weak, unkind, undeserving, 

I merit no love, and I feel I am worth nothing. 

These lies that belittle not just what I see, 

Attack on the inside, hidden part of me.

I cover my face and let out the tears, and slowly give in to my very worst fears.

I want to escape, give up and give in

It just is too easy to let that voice win.

So, I do. I retreat. I create my own world 

Where the voice of my adversary is the only one heard. 

Yet I know I’m not happy- my Sunshine depleted, 

Leaving me feeling abjectly defeated...

I desperately reach and cry out for aid. 

I yearn for connection, but inside I’m afraid. 

I fear it’s all true... that I really am forgotten,

Alone in this world, unloved...unforgiven.

Adversity screams, pushing me down, 

“Grieve all your losses, no hope can be found.” 

“Give up your worth, you deserve nothing more,”

And on and on the lies cut to my core. 

Then all of a sudden as I fall to my knees 

With tears in my eyes, encumbered with grief,

I remember a truth I’ve learned in my life,

Fear only has power if I believe all the lies. 

Believing in truth breaks anxiety’s grasp

And dissipates fear of my future or past.

If I choose to accept my journey, my life, 

That I’m right where I’m at - and that is alright;

If I choose to surrender and choose to let go

Of all of the things I want to control,

Instead choosing Christ, accepting His will,

Believing his timing will all things fulfill,

Then my spiraling down starts spiraling up,

As I choose to patiently drink from this cup.

If I stop asking “why” and start asking “How”, 

Then I know I will find joy in the “now”.

My journey, though messy, is what it should be,

And I know in my heart that it’s just what I need.

My journey, though trying and painful and steep,

Is not quite so hard with Christ next to me.

My journey is slow, soul stretching and steep, 

And yet - it is special and sacred to me.

Tears don’t hurt like the ache does.

I just need to write this : 

It really hurts when someone tells me I should stop missing my ex husband. It really hurts when someone tells me I shouldn’t love him anymore. 

I know I’m not perfect, and I’m working on being indépendant and not codependent. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less when someone wants to tell me I should just move on and leave him behind...

There’s something about healing that I guess some people don’t understand, myself included : 

Healing. Takes. Time. And I’m just doing the best I can. 

The best I can....