i am the disaster

by Alanna


I teach 21 first graders (the last added as of yesterday), and all of them are unique in their own ways. Four of them I call my troublemakers, those whom I'm constantly reminding to pay attention, to stay seated, to keep silence when I'm talking, to do their work. One of those I've seen such immense progress in this year, and particularly today. It made my heart happy because today he TRIED (for I think the first time ever since school started), and received a grade in the 80s.  The class as a whole has progressed too. They know the procedures for lining up outside the door after recess, for working in their books, for singing songs and playing games.

Despite all this, I've been quite discouraged and overwhelmed by one of my students who has digressed considerably since Christmas. I call him my disaster. His favorite hobbies these days are spitting, on anything and everything, crawling around on the floor, and singing loud songs about his classmates while I'm trying to teach. My relationship with him has unfortunately also degenerated. Some mornings I try to give him positive reinforcement, but it only lasts as long as he displays any positive behavior. By the time we are to morning math class, my only communication with him is yelling or stern directions.The area surrounding his desk is reminiscent of the cloud surrounding Pig Pen in Charlie Brown.

I need supernatural wisdom, strength, grace, patience, and love for this one. So I cling to the Vine and ask Him to produce these things in me, because I am so lacking. And then I come to realize. I am the disaster. I am the one returning to the floor, after His hands have lovingly directed me back to my seat hundreds of times. I am the one losing my pencil 4 times in an afternoon, forgetting all He's shown me. I am the one impatient to speak, failing to be silent before Him, too eager to pour out my woes. And oh what love He has shown me. His patience and His grace toward me have no boundaries. My Father's heart harbors no frustration, because all His holy wrath was already poured out on His Son.  His love is strong enough to pick me back up again and remake me new. His love is strong enough to forgive me a thousand times, to grow me, to change me. I don't want to forget, that here in this disaster of a child, is the reflection of my own wayward heart. I want to be reminded of God's love for us, and I want Him to give me even just a tiny portion of that love for these entrusted to me.