Homeless. Hungry. Raped. Poor. Drug addicts. Each day, I may encounter one of these or all of them. I face them in the form of my students who arrive in my class for one reason or another. At some point all teachers care for a student who suffers from one of these problems. In alternative education, the student who comes from a stable family and without major problems is in the minority if not non-existent. You don’t need to leave the country or go on a designated mission trip to find a mission field. Sometimes your mission is right in front of you and you don’t have to go searching for it.
My classroom is far beyond the worst. I have had experience working in schools where police officers line the walls during lunch and visitors are escorted through the halls by an officer. However, no matter what kind of school district it may be, encountering the homeless, the hungry, and the countless other out-of-their-control issues that plague students is still difficult to manage. Everyday that I wake up and enter my class to face these challenges, I am already entering a mission field. Serving “the least of these” is my job. However, I believe my students teach and change me more than the influence I have on them. Often, they are the ones serving and saving.
I don’t doubt my calling to the mission field. It’s the reason I became a teacher in the first place. I wrote my first blog titled and describing that I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Although that is true, I think somewhere deep in my heart I know what I’m supposed to do, but just like so many followers described in scripture, I am afraid and resisting answering that calling. A resistance with both feet planted and my arms wrapped tight around whatever I can find to prevent me from moving forward with what I am supposed to do.
Why resist? Because of fear of failure. At twenty-four, being an alternative high school education teacher is not the easiest place to be. It’s challenging, at times scary, frustrating, and most of all heartbreaking. I feel inadequate. I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle. And I have mixed feelings with school systems in general when it comes to standardized testing, the power of parent influence, fostering learned helplessness, and so much more.
Despite my doubts and my avoidance of fully accepting my call, I know I belong in the mission field as a teacher. How am I sure? Because I can’t convince myself to fully walk away. Because I refer to my students as “my kids”. Because I don’t sleep at night when I know one of my students is really struggling. Because no matter how many times I’ve seen a habitual drug addict walk into my room, my heart still breaks. Yet with that heart break, I feel the need for action to somehow reach that student. I know I’m a teacher because I can’t become immune to what I am seeing. I witness it, I feel it, I hurt because of it, and I am constantly moved by it. The day I don’t care is the day when I need to truly leave teaching.
These next few months will be a time of accepting. Accepting that I have been working in a mission field. Accepting that I was brought to this school district and my work here is complete, for now. Accepting that it’s time to move on to another mission field. And finally, accepting that no matter what mission field I chose, I cannot avoid my call to teach and will always go as a teacher.
My classroom is far beyond the worst. I have had experience working in schools where police officers line the walls during lunch and visitors are escorted through the halls by an officer. However, no matter what kind of school district it may be, encountering the homeless, the hungry, and the countless other out-of-their-control issues that plague students is still difficult to manage. Everyday that I wake up and enter my class to face these challenges, I am already entering a mission field. Serving “the least of these” is my job. However, I believe my students teach and change me more than the influence I have on them. Often, they are the ones serving and saving.
I don’t doubt my calling to the mission field. It’s the reason I became a teacher in the first place. I wrote my first blog titled and describing that I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Although that is true, I think somewhere deep in my heart I know what I’m supposed to do, but just like so many followers described in scripture, I am afraid and resisting answering that calling. A resistance with both feet planted and my arms wrapped tight around whatever I can find to prevent me from moving forward with what I am supposed to do.
Why resist? Because of fear of failure. At twenty-four, being an alternative high school education teacher is not the easiest place to be. It’s challenging, at times scary, frustrating, and most of all heartbreaking. I feel inadequate. I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle. And I have mixed feelings with school systems in general when it comes to standardized testing, the power of parent influence, fostering learned helplessness, and so much more.
Despite my doubts and my avoidance of fully accepting my call, I know I belong in the mission field as a teacher. How am I sure? Because I can’t convince myself to fully walk away. Because I refer to my students as “my kids”. Because I don’t sleep at night when I know one of my students is really struggling. Because no matter how many times I’ve seen a habitual drug addict walk into my room, my heart still breaks. Yet with that heart break, I feel the need for action to somehow reach that student. I know I’m a teacher because I can’t become immune to what I am seeing. I witness it, I feel it, I hurt because of it, and I am constantly moved by it. The day I don’t care is the day when I need to truly leave teaching.
These next few months will be a time of accepting. Accepting that I have been working in a mission field. Accepting that I was brought to this school district and my work here is complete, for now. Accepting that it’s time to move on to another mission field. And finally, accepting that no matter what mission field I chose, I cannot avoid my call to teach and will always go as a teacher.
