Not Just on Valentine's Day...

“The Lord says that there is nothing that you can do that would make Him love you more there is also nothing you can do that would make Him love you less. He loves you because He loves you because He loves you because He loves you because He loves you because He loves you because He loves you because He loves you because He loves you because He loves you, because that is what He is like, it is His nature to love, and you will always be the beloved. And His love is unchanging, and He loves you 100%, He won’t love you any better when you become better. He loves you 100% right now, and even if you have no plans to become better, He will still love you 100%; because He loves you, because that’s the way that He is, and even if you don’t want to change, He will love you 100%. Even if you have no plans to walk with Him, He will love you 100%, because that’s his nature. He loves all the way all the time. His love is unchanging. What will change says the Lord is your ability to receive my love, and this evening I want to cram some more of that ability inside you. So I challenge you says the Lord, open your heart to me, open your heart to me and you will receive more of my love than you’ve ever experience before, I dare you says the Lord, come on, open you heart to me, give me your heart, give me whatever your obstacle is, I’ll take it, I’ll remove it out of the way, because I love you as you are right now. I love you 100% as you are right this moment. I love you as you are, so be loved. You are the beloved, it is your job says the Lord, to be loved outrageously, it is why I chose you, and it is why I set my love upon you, that you would live as one who is outrageously loved. That you would receive a radical love, so radical it will blow all your parodies of what you think love is. And know says the Lord, I will love you outrageously all the days of your life, because I don’t know how to be any different, this is who I am, and this is who I will always be, this is the I Am that I promised you, I am He that loves you outrageously. And you may love me back with the love that I give you; you may love Me back outrageously, with the outrageous love that I bestow upon you. And know this says the Lord you can only love Me as much as you love yourself. So My love comes this evening to set you free from yourself, to set you free from how you see yourself. To set you free from the smallness of your own thinking about yourself, My love comes to set you free from rejection, and from shame, and from low self-esteem, and from despair and from abuse. Because when I look at you says the Lord, I see something that I love, and I see someone that I can love outrageously. And I have so much to bestow upon you, so much to give you, so many places to take you in My heart, but you can’t go there unless you allow Me to love you. And my love for you, will break every barrier, bring every wall crashing down, and know this says the Lord, My love damages fear, My love hates fear My love will fight fear it will fight fear in you it will fight fear around you, and if you have fear this evening says the Lord, then know that you have a treat in store, because My perfect love casts out fear, there is no fear where I am present, because My love casts out fear. Beloved, you are My beloved, you are My beloved, and in My love I want you to feel good about yourself.”

-Graham Cook, “Inheritance”

Happy "You Are Loved" Day!

All the Little Children

A few days ago, in my 2nd session of infantil, the class bad boy (we'll call him "Javier"), sat at my feet for story time. Normally, I'm surrounded by the girls in the class. They constantly play with my hair, reach up to hold my hand or give me stickers. The boys rarely sit with me, and certainly not Javier.

The first thing I noticed was his hair -- his jet black hair had white flecks speckling the top. My mind automatically thought the worst... "He probably has something crawling around in there, too!" This inner monologue made me gasp aloud, ashamed, and Javier turned around and looked at me with curious, wide, dark eyes. I smiled back at that perplexed face, suddenly feeling nothing but warmth toward him. He grinned, having realized that I was okay, and he was in the clear. Then he faced forward again and pushed his head back between my legs, so that his cheeks were even with my knees. Something inside of me jumped, giddy, at this sudden offering of trust. The other children watched me and him carefully, gauging my reaction. I slowly started to sway my knees side-to-side, his face caught in between. He laughed at this game. Then I noticed his smell. Tears prickled in my eyes as I continued rocking him left to right, and I looked around at the other children. Neat smocks. Clean hair. Why hadn't I noticed before? He sat that way, his warm little body between my feet, for five minutes or more, the best behaved I'd ever seen him.

When it was time for the children to return to their tables to color, I asked the two teachers in the classroom, "Javier?" I didn't know what else to say. Their faces grew stony. They proceeded to tell stories of infamous siblings (also unattended), horrible parent-teacher conferences, and "gypsy ways".

My eyes filled with tears again. The week before, I had lost my patience for the first time and had told him harshly, "Javier! Just sit down!" I had spat out his harsh name, the "j" a hacking, guttural "h" sound. He had probably only caught the word "sit," but my meaning had been perfectly clear. My face and voice needed no translation. Students had been all around me, shouting, "Teeeacher teeeacher! Feeenished!" and waving worksheets in my face, while Javier had been throwing crayons and making another child cry. He had deserved to be reprimanded, I realized that, but now I knew a little bit more about his situation. Why he needed attention, be it positive or negative.

When the class ended, and I quietly shut the door behind me, I couldn't shake the image of an expectant, quiet Javier sitting at my feet. I didn't notice a teacher walking toward me in the hall until she stopped me, catching me mid-thought.

"Que paso?" she asked.
"Javier," I stated.
"Oh..." she said softly, squeezing my shoulder with a smile before continuing down the hall.

In one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning retells the story in Mark of Jesus stopping during one of his journeys to bless the children. Now, I'm not Mother Teresa, but I do believe that I have the same Love inside of me, ready to be given, no strings attached. Everyday, I have the personal choice of whether or not to respond to those around me out of love and grace. Should I give others what they deserve? Do I favor the best behaved? Do I kiss the dirty child's cheek, too? What if things get icky? What if I'm pushed outside of my happy, safe bubble? I want to share a passage from this book that came to my mind after my encounter with "Javier":

Mark records that a group of parents, who obviously sensed something of God's love in Jesus, wanted Him to bless their little ones. The irritated disciples, fatigued by the long day's journey on foot from Capernaum to the district of Judea and the far side of the Jordan, attempted to shoo away the children. Jesus became visibly upset and silenced the Twelve with a withering glance. Mark notes carefully that Jesus picked them up one by one, cradled them, and gave each of them His blessing.

My friend Robert Frost comments:
I am so glad Jesus didn't suggest they group all the children together for a sort of general blessing because he was tired. Instead he took time to hold each child close to his heart and to earnestly pray for them all...then they joyfully scampered off to bed. One is tenderly reminded of a beautiful messianic passage from the prophets. "He will feed his flock like a shepherd, he will gather the lambs in his arms, he will carry them in his bosom, and will gently lead those that have their young" (Isaiah 40:11). I think there is a lesson here for anyone who would seek to set any kind of false condition concerning just who should be the recipients of God's grace. He blessed them all.

I'm sure I'll continue to be challenged by what I encounter at my schools. I will lose my patience. I will see more situations that will make me want to go home, throw myself on the bed, weep into my pillow and shake my fists because the world isn't fair! Thank goodness, though, that we have ALL been "recipients of God's grace"! Put a Javier in my path. I want to become so weak to myself and my selfish desires, so small, and my comfort zone to grow so large that the ever-strong Love within me will simply flow out to each and every one.

Mark 10:13-16 (NIV)

The Little Children and Jesus
13 People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. 14 When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. 15 Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” 16 And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.

City vs. Country

You are so young; you stand before beginnings. I would like to beg you, dear friend, as well as I can, to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer ...

Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Right now, I'm sitting in the computer lab at my city school, my ears filled with the sounds of children shouting and teachers gossiping in their impossibly-quick Spanish. I sit here, mulling over the same decision that's been on my mind for the past few months -- am I coming back next year? Do I want to teach these children, in this country, for two years of my life? And, if so...which school will I choose? If I decide to renew, I must fill out the paperwork this month and pick one school in which to remain. The latter decision, to me, looms just as large as the former, more general question of whether or not to return at all.

I work in two, very different schools. My Monday-Tuesday school, the city school, is in a low socioeconomic area of Madrid, full of Moroccan immigrants and the occasional ¨gypsy¨. The school is twice the size of my country school, with two homerooms for each grade level, and a staff of 25 or so people. The scenery: a drab apartment complex with concrete sidewalks littered with dog droppings, surrounded by tall, graffitied walls.

My Wednesday-Thursday school, in contrast, is in a quiet village, nestled in a forest of pine trees and large, white tile homes (supposedly belonging to some of Spain's top military brass). This school has only one class per grade level, and the staff is like a small family. I tutor the secretary and headmaster's respective sons once a week and carpool with the Deputy of Studies with whom I practice my Spanish while she practices her English. During those car rides, I smile as the rolling hills swallow my view of the skyscrapers and smog. I smile at the sight of stork nests, tractors, the occasional cyclist and the sun warming my face through the windshield. I love the feeling of leaving the city in the mornings as the sun rises and then returning to such a cool, urban landscape as the stars come out. Without a doubt, I prefer the "feeling" I get from my country school. I admit, it's my comfort zone -- the manageable size, a more intimate group of co-workers...and, it´s in the country! (I am a farm girl, after all.)

There are other factors to consider other than setting, of course:

At my city school, the other assistant, a good friend of mine, had to return home and has been replaced today by a new guy from the States. At my country school, I work with two other girls, both Irish and hilarious. We're thick as thieves.

At my city school, I eat lunch with a mixed group of five teachers and mostly listen to their forced conversations. At my country school, I eat lunch with about ten other women teachers, and we swap stories about students and giggle over guys.

My city school is at the end of a metro line that has a stop three blocks from my house. My country school is about 25 kilometers south of the city, which means a metro and car ride.

But what about the children at each school? What about the work I do? The teaching?

The children at both schools are equally lovable and unforgettable. How can I choose to leave half of them? I simply can't make my decision based on which children are sweeter. They're all wonderful to me.

There is a noticeable difference, though, between their behavior at the city school vs. the country school. It probably won't influence my decision, but I think this observation is worth sharing: The city school children (unfortunately, living up to a stereotype) are more violent. No doubt about it. Daily, I break up fights. I'm talkin' about 1st graders shoving, kicking and slapping each other because they want to be 1st (or even last) in line. Anything to be special or get what they want. Last week, I spoke in Spanish to children for the 1st time when two boys got in an all-out brawl over who's last in line. I separated them, and as they squirmed to reach the other, I told them in my most serious voice that they knew better than this, and no, I didn't care who'd started it. The looks on their faces, after the initial shock of my speaking Spanish, was replaced by a look of confusion. Why can't you push back after being pushed? These children live in an environment where they must take what they want, morals aside. The city school students snatch erasers, pencils and toys from nother classmates without a thought. They need/want it, so what's the problem? This...culture, I guess, has been weighing heavily on my mind and heart recently. I love these kids so much, the angels and the little demons. (Maybe I'll give more thought to this topic later, in another post.)

So now I'm left with the actual work aspect. At my city school, I come into the classroom (infantil, 1st or 2nd grade), stand beside the teacher and continue the lesson in their class and activity books. The teachers are kind of winging it, therefore, so am I. But it works, somehow! Just today, a teacher complimented me on how, when I see that the children aren't getting something, I regroup and change how I present the data. I can change my teaching tactics fluidly. The teacher then nudged me and said, "You're gonna be a teacher, no?" I blushed, laughed and said, "Oh, gosh, one would hope not!" Then we both laughed. But that's why I like this school... it provides me the opportunity to get my feet wet, so to say. I present the day's topic, answer questions, dish out some necessary discipline, sometimes make mini lessons and even correct work in class alongside the teacher. I teach science, English and PE, and I've found that I enjoy teaching all of these subjects. I simply like being in a classroom. I've always loved being a student, and a teacher certainly is a student, too (no?).

At my country school, I go into all the classrooms, 1st-6th grade. I rarely, though, teach. (One 2nd grade teacher, Toni, is really good about letting me read part of the lesson to the children and allowing me to interact with the class as a whole. Other than her class, nada.) 95% of the time, I enter the classroom, walk straight to the back and sit at a table, pull out my folder of British English exam questions, and work my way down the roster of children, a pair at a time. Each pair sits with me and answers the same, mind-numbing questions such as "What's your name?", "Where do you live?", "Have you got any pets?" (crazy British English...it's "Do you have any pets?" but don't get me started!) and "What are you wearing today?" Sorry, but hearing them describe their school uniform (which never changes, duh!) 25x a day, everyday, gets kind of old. Yet, the children need this drilling to pass an exam in May. Ironically, I have realized that my city school's children actually are mastering English quicker than the country school children, who are drilled daily by native speakers. Perhaps the organic interaction of teacher-to-student holds their attention better; they're truly learning, and not just memorizing? I'm not sure, but the fact that my 2nd graders at my city school have better English than the 4th graders at my country school makes me chuckle out of frustration and confusion.

It looks like I've got a loooot of things to think about...