This month, Team One Hope is helping out at a bilingual Christian school. Getting to spend most of my ministry days with the same people – I consider it a luxury now. I hang out with my first-graders for thirty hours a week, so I thought I would introduce you to some of them.
The Escape Artist: In a blink of an eye, The Escape Artist can slip out of his desk, and on a good day, out of the classroom. He has impeccable timing and possesses the crucial quality of not being missed – at least not immediately.
The Ninja Eraser: Notetakers, take note – beware of the Ninja Eraser. One minute, the answers are on the board, and the next, his fingers have swiped half of them away. If he’s feeling more ambitious, he will spider-climb the board to snag the physical eraser to complete the job.
The Chatterbox: The Chatterbox chatters away at an impressive speed, in almost incomprehensible Spanish. Even if she is doing something else. Even if the teacher is talking. Even if the recipient cannot understand a single word.
“I’m-cute-and-I-know-it”: Puppy eyes. Batting eyelashes. The most adorable dimples. And typically trying to get away with something.
The Giggler: Dropped pencil? Fallen desk? Hurt classmate? Every classroom occurrence is the most amusing thing The Giggler has ever seen.
The Silent Hugger: The Silent Hugger rarely speaks, but she often comes up from behind for a long, clinging hug around the waist.
“I-ship-it”: Desks are rearranged multiple times a day, but somehow, these two always end up next to each other. She is frugal with her smiles, except when goofing off (flirting?) with him, and he is surprisingly okay with sitting next to a girl for several hours. Who says six is too young for love?
The Paper Monster: “Una pagina, por favor!” is The Paper Monster’s constant refrain. Every period. Every day. She is persistent to a fault.
The Hide-n-Seeker: No corner is too small or too dark for The Hide-n-Seeker, who finds endless places to disappear or conceal. Too cool for school? Attempting to collect all the pencils in the extras box? Trying to make the teacher laugh? It’s all just a game of hide-and-hopefully-seek.
The Soft Spot: At a school where students seem to be constantly at each other’s throats, it is so refreshing to see everyone treat one person gently and kindly. They hold her hand and play with her and let her use their stuff. It warms my heart and restores my faith in the goodness of theirs.
Needless to say, my class is a handful. The days can be long. But from them, I am learning my Father’s heart.
No matter how many times they run out of class, no matter how many times they stubbornly refuse to listen, no matter how many times they hit and kick and stab and flail, no matter how many times they get in trouble… they know.
They know that I will always help them with math or spelling or art. They know that I will always tie their shoelaces. They know that I will always try to dry their tears over whatever incident they probably initiated in the first place. They know that I will always watch their stuff when they go play.
They know. Even when the sinfulness of my being wages war with the sinfulness of theirs, they know. They know that I am for them, and never with a grudging heart.
How often do I think the Father will withhold his love and blessing because of my rebellion? How often am I too scared, too ashamed, too “undeserving” to even ask? How often do I run farther away instead of turning back?
But every time, the Father looks tenderly upon me. “Child, I love you. I am for you. Always.”
