We arrived at the school; a teacher met us and led us to the principal’s office. Each of us were assigned to a teacher last week, but we weren’t sure where to go. The teacher assisted us to the proper classroom. I walked in and was greeted by Yohana. She greeted me in Spanish and asked me a few questions.
“No se”, I responded. She spoke too fast, and her Guatemalan accent made it difficult to understand the words. She re-asked some questions. I still don’t understand.
I advised her that I was her “helper.” She assisted me to the front of the class and sat me in a desk. She handed me an ink pad and a stamper. She started writing sentences about Guatemalan Constitution on the board (yes, I can recognize a lot more in writing). The students copied the words in their notebooks, then proceeded to my desk to receive a stamp. I was at peace about being there and attempting to communicate, but that didn’t stop my curious mind, “Why am I here? I can’t communicate with these people. I feel like I’m a hindrance to the class. She’s having me do something small that she could easily do herself.” As I sat there, watching the class, I prayed, “God, you put me here for a reason. Show me how I can help. Show me how to communicate with these people.”
At the end of class, Yohana handed me the white board eraser and told me to clean the board. Although it felt like “busy work,” I proceeded to do what I was asked.
Yohana and I left the classroom and went to the principal’s office. “Am I in trouble?” I thought.
We sat down in the empty room, and Yohana started talked to me in Spanish. Emma came to help interpret for the first few minutes. I pulled my phone out and used google translate to communicate with her. While many things were translated wrong, we had a humorous but decent conversation and learned many things about each other. Yohana left the room and returned shortly with two plastic cups. She gave me step-by-step instructions on how to do a rhythmic, clapping game—I learned this game when I was younger but couldn’t remember the clapping sequence. I even asked my team last month if they knew it. For 25 minutes, we played the game and laughed!
Okay, maybe this is why I’m here—to bring life and laughter to this teacher.
After the break finished, we wandered upstairs into the 9th grade classroom. Two boys, David and his brother, were fluent in English. David came up and started translating as the class asked me questions. When the class finished, the teacher said, “Tell us a story about yourself.” So, I began telling my testimony! When I was finished, I noticed two girls in the class were crying. The class proceeded to ask questions, and David was diligent in translating. The discussion soon went to dancing, and I found myself dancing to a worship song that I learned in El Salvador. I wasn’t good at it, but it brought joy and laughter to the class.
This was not how I expected the first day of class to go. The Lord opened the door to the school, and I’m learning that the school’s need for us is far less than God’s need for us in that same place.
Even in the moments when nothing seems to be working out to your expectations, take courage; the Lord might use you in ways that you weren’t expecting.
