Teaching Children

III John 4 “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.”

When Catherine was first born, people asked me if I felt any different now that I was a father. I could honestly say no and that this was because I had always felt like a dad; I just didn’t realize it.

This feeling came primarily from teaching.

My students were never kids, and I made sure never to call them that. They were of age, capable of enlisting in the military or voting, when they came into my classroom. But I still cared for them like I would my children, a collection of sons and daughters even if they were (as was sometimes the case) older than me.

I’m now at the time of the month in my prayer calendar where I send a prayer to former students once a day. Over the past few weeks, I’ve contacted Zack Cook, Logan Crowder, Shayla Hoff, Hugh Pressley, Erica McCrea, Sarrah Strickland, and Chris Reyes to name a few…

Some are caught in purgatory, still looking for that post-college landing spot. Some are teachers or professionals and have made the transition successfully. Some of them are living out their faith in ways that I long to emulate. Some are struggling with their relationship to God.

No matter, I count it one of the privileges of my life that I get to reach out to them once a month, let them know I’m praying for them, and share God’s love with them.

And when I hear that they are walking in the truth? Incredible joy…

 

 

Like Little Children

A colleague gave a devotional at our faculty meeting two weeks ago that compared some of our students to lost sheep. In Christ’s parable, the shepherd leaves the other 99 sheep safely penned in order to retrieve the lost sheep, and there is consequently great rejoicing when that lamb has been found. My colleague encouraged us to seek out our students that were hurting and in need of our help.

His message resonated with verses from Matthew that I’ve been reading, verses that speak to Christ’s prizing of children. The shepherd/lamb dynamic in the classroom is occasionally apt, but it can also encourage us to patronize our students. Truly, it is more Christ they need than us. Christ prizes children for a reason different than lambs, however. When a child desires to connect with someone, they cannot participate in the the transactional economy of the adult world. They have nothing to offer. They are in need and thus picture the bare-faced neediness we must assume if we wish to enter the kingdom of God. Here, it is a good thing to be a child, to put away the sense that we can do something to repay God for his kindness or that this blessings are strictly quid pro quo.

When we see education through the lens of discipleship, we will be less likely to reduce our students to numbers, pragmatically deal with every problem by addressing grades, or even play a kind of cultural capital game where our students should like our classes because what we offer them is more valuable than money.

A student tells you they will miss class because of a funeral. You ask how they are doing but then quickly retreat to business-mode. “I’ll send you the quiz.” As if that’s what they wanted. Maybe they did want that. If a student comes with a real concern, however, the practice of addressing only assessment-related matters will quickly fail.

I need help. My students need help. That’s why we need education. That’s why we need discipleship. Let both come to God like little children.