You Wouldn't Let Me In

I went to Mass today, a late Saturday afternoon Catholic church service.  During the sermon, the priest told a story which I found particularly instructive, and which is as follows. 

An especially devout woman prayed much every day.  After a long time of such persistent prayer, Jesus told her that because of her devotion, He would visit her the next day.

When she woke up, she eagerly began cleaning her home.  She was also spending much of the day cooking.  In the morning, the bell rang.  She answered the door.  A young child, upset, cried to her that he was lost and couldn't find his family.  He asked the woman to help him.  She replied that she was busy, so that she couldn't help him.

She returned to her cleaning and cooking.  In the afternoon, a middle-aged woman appeared at her door.  The woman outside the door shared that she and her family were poor and that they didn't know how they would be able to eat their next meal.  The woman in the house responded that she didn't have time to help her because she was occupied with her cooking and cleaning. 

The woman in the house recommenced her work.  When it was in the evening, an elderly man appeared at her door and asked for her help.  The woman explained that she couldn't assist him because she already had a lot to do.  The lady kept working and eventually turned in for the night.

During her dreams that night, she saw Jesus in a dream.  She noted, "You said You were going to come visit me."  Then she asked Him, "Why didn't You come visit me?"

Jesus replied, "I came to you three times, but you wouldn't let Me in." 

That's My Sister!

Today was an unusual day.  We had the first school-wide assembly of the year.  We're going to have one every trimester.  Given that the end of the trimester is rapidly approaching, we had the assembly today, since we didn't have much time left to have one.

We started off the assembly with a prayer.  As always, we invoked Saint John Baptist de la Salle, the French priest who did so much to further education in France 300 years ago, and who founded the tradition of Catholic schools to which we belong.  We implored him to pray for us, as we also did at the close of the assembly.

After the opening prayer, we had the students compete in several groups.  We quizzed them, including about facts they had learned in Social Studies, Math and Science classes.  They were excited to compete against each other. 

But before we got to the contest, we teachers handed out awards to the youths we teach in our particular 6th, 7th and 8th grade classes.  Students received certificates for excellence in Social Studies, Science, Math, Literature and Writing.  Students had also voted to decide which of them was the most supportive of his or her fellow students, which pupil motivated others well, and which student was the most organized, in addition to which children have taken other positive approaches at school.  We also recognized particular students for reading in class in a loud voice.

I was enjoying hearing students' names being called, and I was liking watching children walk up to receive their certificates.  Partly I was feeling satisfaction in seeing these young scholars get these awards because I know that some of them have expressed that they wanted to be academically successful, but some of them have seemed to doubt that they could excel in their studies.  After seeing them apply themselves to their work, I felt joyous over their achievement, their advancement, their betterment of themselves.  As I saw students stride up to receive their awards, my eyes grew watery as I repeatedly felt happy for them. 

Given that I was taking in the recognition of these students in this emotional context, I was primed to feel especially touched when one particular boy spontaneously shouted in excitement when his sister won an award.  When her name was called, he proudly cried, "That's my sister!" 

It was delightful to hear his unrestrained enthusiasm and show of affection and love for his sibling, partially since he was cheering her for her intelligence, her motivation, her application of herself and her academic accomplishments.  I do indeed literally pray that I am contributing to such intellectual growth and development in these youths.  I hope that I am helping these students to progress and learn.  I hope that I can be partly responsible for causing children to extemporaneously call out in praise of their siblings.  If I can, hearing such cheer will certainly serve as a reward. 

Willingness

In the last couple of weeks, the Director of Student Life approached me again to check in with me about coaching basketball this winter.  I'd barely gotten words out of my mouth when he said that they had more than enough people to coach, so that they didn't need me to coach.

I'd been wondering how I'd have enough energy to coach.  I'd attended some of the kids' late season fall soccer games, and, as a result, felt not prepared enough to teach on the days following the games.  Consequently, I'd wondered how I'd be able to coach.

Perhaps it wasn't about me actually coaching.  Maybe God only wanted me to truly be willing to do it.  Once I'd honestly said I'd coach, perhaps that was all He had been wanting of me.  Maybe sometimes God just wants to see that we are willing to do more than we think we can do. 

Teaching Immigrants And Feeling A Little Like One

I'm sitting here planning a lesson for the Seventh Grade Literature class I teach.  In Literature class, we're about to start reading a story about a Mexican boy and his father who sneak into the U.S.  All of the students in this Literature class are Mexican-American, so they were interested when we started talking about how we're going to be reading this story about immigration. 

As I was just sitting here planning this lesson, I thought of how, so often when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco, Moroccan students would tell me that they wanted to come here to the U.S.  Now that I'm back here in the U.S., I find myself considering the desirability of living in the U.S. from a different vantage point, both for myself and when considering students I teach.  At least one of my current students arrived here in the U.S. a couple of years ago.  I used to teach children who wanted to come to the U.S.  Now I'm teaching students who have made it to the U.S.

As I write this blog entry, I am realizing that I am in somewhat analogous of a position to those of my students who have come here to the U.S.  While there are many significant differences between them and me, nevertheless, like them, I too used to live in another country; I longed to come to the U.S.--in my case, to return to the U.S.--to enjoy living here.  And now, like those of my current students who had wanted to come here from a foreign country, I too came here from a foreign country and am now enjoying the benefits of living here.  And like them, having lived in another country, I can appreciate the blessings of living in the U.S., having the perspective of what it's like to live elsewhere.  Having lived without what I have here in the U.S., now I am much more thankful to God for so many blessings. 

Your Words Have Power

In the Literature class I teach, I try to engage the students, in discussions about what happens in the stories we read, in ways which will challenge them and which will help them to engage in critical thinking.  I ask the students why characters in stories do what they do.  I ask them to explain characters' motivations.  I ask them to support their opinions with examples from the text.

At one point, as a way of both trying to encourage them, to inspire them, and to help explain to them why they need to cite instances in the story to substantiate their viewpoints, as an analogy I referenced how lawyers persuasively support their own cases.  A few days earlier, I had told them that I had been an attorney, so I reminded them that I used to be a lawyer.  I explained to them that in court, attorneys tell the judge how the attorneys think the case should turn out.  I told them that judges then say to lawyers, "Counsel, where's your evidence?"  I next said that just as judges ask lawyers where their evidence is, so too would I be asking them where their evidence is for believing why characters act the way they do.  During that same explication, I expressed to them a long-term view of them I hold.  I shared with them how I honestly believe that some of them truly are capable of becoming lawyers one day. 

A few weeks later, I was talking with an older sibling of one of my Literature students.  She told me that all of a sudden, her younger sister has started saying that she's going to become a lawyer!  I asked her when her younger sister started saying that she's going to be a lawyer.  She said that her younger sister started saying so within the last month, which meant since school has started.  Perhaps at least one student has been listening while I've been teaching... 

Teaching Highlights in September

Although I've already shared the most significant moments during my experience as an LV (Lasallian Volunteer) from September, I thought I'd share my otherwise most notable moments as an LV from September.  They are as follows.

I decided to do a project where my kids and I would collectively write a letter to a friend of mine who served with me as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) in Morocco, and who's still serving there as a PCV.  As I was explaining how to write the letter, I explained to the kids why it's good to ask questions when writing a letter.  I explain that people often like being asked questions because it shows you think you have something to learn from them.  I added that it also can reflect humility. 

We wrote the letter to her.  We told her some things about where the school is in Chicago.  We shared with her some of the things the students are learning.  We asked her some questions about her life in Morocco.  A few days later, we got back a response from her.  With her letter, she helped me to teach the kids how to organize a letter, when to start new paragraphs in a letter, and how to start and end a letter.

At my request, she included some pictures of her and her husband in Morocco.  She attached a picture of herself on a hike.  She attached a couple of pictures of dishes of Moroccan food.  She included a photo of her husband with members of their host family.  The Moroccan girls had their heads covered with headscarves.  When the class was looking at this photo, I heard some of the students murmuring.

I explained, "The girls and the women in Morocco always have their heads covered."

"Why?" one girl asked.

"Their religion tells them to do that," I responded.

"That sucks," she said.

I replied, "Can you find a better way to express how you feel about that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, try starting your sentence with 'I,'" I suggested.

"I..." she began, and then trailed off.

I re-approached the question from a different starting point.  "Well, would you want to be expected to do that?"

"No."

Refusing to tell her the exact words to say, I asked, "So, what would your sentence sound like?"

"Oh," she said.  "I wouldn't want to have to do that."

"That sounds much better," I told her.

***

On another day, I enjoyed seeing that same girl use her time well.  During afternoon homeroom, students are writing down their homework for the day, and are otherwise getting ready to leave the school for the day.  After she had finished getting ready to leave for the day, other students were still preparing to leave.  As they were gathering their things, she started using the time to sweep up the classroom.  She hadn't been asked to do so, but just took the initiative to use her time well.

***

We read a couple of short stories in Literature Class in September.  In one of them, called "Seventh Grade" by Gary Soto, a boy in seventh grade pretends to speak French in front of everyone in French class to try to impress a girl he likes.  The French teacher knows he can't speak French.  Yet after class, the girl compliments him on his French as the teacher is standing there.  He hopes that the teacher won't expose him as a fraud, thinking that he'll do anything that the teacher wants, having learned his lesson not to bluff like he had done.  In the end, the teacher does not let the girl know.

We talked about the theme of the short story.  We discussed that one should be honest and that God always wants us to tell us the truth.  I added that even though you might not do something as well as you'd like, you should learn from your mistakes, and that next time you can do it better.  As I was saying those words in front of the class, feeling like I didn't know how to teach, that I was often making mistakes as I taught, I wondered, "For whom is this lesson being given?"  

My Own Words As My Guide

I wrote my last blog entry about being flexible.  I explained how one must be open to what one is asked to do, even if it is something about which one knows nothing.  I suggested that even if you're convinced that you're inexperienced, you should embrace what you're requested to do.

The very next day after I wrote that blog post, I was called out on my own words.  The Director of Student Life at school came to my desk in my classroom.  He told me that he would like me to think about co-coaching basketball this winter.

In my honest opinion, I am hardly the person best suited to this task, a conclusion with which, I am fairly certain, many people would agree.  However, I have been asked to co-coach basketball this year.  Therefore, I will be coaching basketball. 

Be Flexible

Last month I stayed at the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky for the better part of a week.  The monks there are predominantly contemplative.  They pray the Divine Office, largely composed of the Psalms, which they chant in unison, seven times a day.  However, they also perform various kinds of work there at the monastery.  They have made cheese and fudge and fruitcake.  Some of them write spiritual texts.  Others plant and grow and pick fruits and vegetables on the grounds of the abbey.  Still others tend the grounds of the abbey.

During my stay at the abbey, I got to speak with a couple of the monks more than once.  One of them entered the abbey when he was relatively young, and he is now elderly.  He mentioned more than once to me that he had authored a booklet containing some of his spiritual musings.  Since he mentioned the booklet to me multiple times, I figured I should pick it up from the abbey bookstore.  Accordingly, I stopped into the bookstore and bought this monk's booklet.  In it he relates how he was asked to change jobs at the abbey.  I took his change of situation as a good example to follow, and as a way to help maintain perspective.  Things could be more challenging than they have been for me, and in additional ways than they already are.

I have a warm, encouraging, sympathetic, patient, accommodating and helpful principal as my boss now.  I have co-workers, both teachers and staff alike, who are pleasant, helpful and supportive.  I work in a calm, serene, sane workplace.

Given that I feel unversed in teaching a group of students with such a wide range of abilities, I have felt severely challenged in this work.  However, I chose this job, unlike the monk I noted above, who was being asked to take on a new position, who knew nothing about the kind of new work he was being asked to start doing.  Further, I am not making this career shift as an elderly person, unlike the monk I described above who changed jobs once he was aged.  He made those changes as an elderly person, being flexible despite his age, adapting to the new and unfamiliar demands made upon him.  I am not so challenged as he was.  As I consider him, I feel called to keep my situation in perspective.  I am reminded that my situation could be more challenging than it is.  And I take him as inspiration.  May we all accept what we are called to do as he did. 

I Must Trust

I received an envelope in the mail today.  I found it very appropriate that I received this particular envelope in the mail this week.  I find it apropos in light of the events I related in my last blog entry, covering my despair from trying to rely on myself, and the grace and the strength I received from God when I prayed to Him for help. 

I had addressed the envelope, as well as its contents, on an index card, to myself three months ago.  Having written the card so long ago, I had forgotten about it.

In June, I attended some workshops at the School of Applied Theology in Oakland, California.  In one workshop, Sue Mosteller, Henri Nouwen's literary executrix, discussed Nouwen's interpretation of Rembrandt's painting of the Return of the Prodigal Son.  In that particular workshop, Sue explained how Nouwen had become enthralled with the art of the trapeze.  She reviewed how one trapeze artist catches the other trapeze artist, who leaps.  She shared how Nouwen viewed the catching trapeze artist as the remarkable one in such interactions.  Nouwen viewed the trapeze catcher's catching as being analogous to God's catching us when we trust in Him.

At one of the workshops, the organizers directed us to write on an index card what we wanted to remember from the workshops.  They told us that they would mail the cards to us soon after each of us had begun our new ventures.  Thus, having just begun the school year a few weeks ago, I only just received the card I had written as a reminder to myself. 

On the index card, I wrote, "I want to remember that I must be trusting Him to catch me; trusting in Him as I take the leap, as I have trusted in Him when I have taken previous leaps, when He caught me then too."