God Goes to School

It goes without mention that rarely do teachers get in their fair shakes when education is the topic of discussion. That, to me, is nonsensical. We dedicate our lives to helping, molding, sculpting, enriching, building, and in some cases preserving and raising the lives of our students. No, we don't do it for the pay, nor do we do it because we cannot do anything else, we do it because it is our passion—our calling--and because we know a simple truth: if we don't, no one else will. 

That's what keeps me in education and that's what motivates me to continue my own education, and that's what pushes me stay active in professional advocacy organizations, because if I don't do it, the greatest uncertainty is who will? 

My heart is pure, my hands are able, and my mind is capable, so why shouldn't I? What other career would allow me to make as grand a contribution to my world? How else could I pay back all the blessings bestowed upon me? Why would I be in education if not for God who put me here? Ah, that is the real question.

Reality number one. Teachers are great observers. We must be. Protecting the safety of the children entrusted to us, beyond educating them, is our foremost charge. We handle them like porcelain—their bodies, their hearts, their minds. If anyone doubts that a single educator in their child's life wouldn't lay down their life for that child, perhaps they should become better acquainted. 

But teachers are also great observers in the respect that we must all too often observe public opinion and public scrutiny from a safe distance—safe in the respect that we are also all too often reminded that we serve a public which is entitled to that opinion. When someone ill-fitted to the privilege of our ranks abuses the position for their own gain or perversion, scrutiny falls upon each of us. It is a burden we bear because we know that our own hearts are pure as are our intentions. We serve to protect and enlighten children. When public scrutiny falls to our paid vacations, generous salaries, and ridiculous pensions, we remain observant but ever so silent. And, when criticism falls to our level of education, our years of experience, and the credential of our pedagogy, we steady ourselves, quietly introspective. But, our outward composure hides inward fire, hurt, scorn, frustration, and fear. Why? Because we know the mettle required to do our job—we know that survival of the fittest applies in our profession. We know that despite sometimes blatant public lack of understanding or support that we, united, are doing the right thing for the children of America each and every day, and we do it, because it is God's work.

The public outcry to put God back in school is hurtful to me. I've been in public education for the last thirty years, (save for the four that I  attended a small liberal arts college and the one when I worked for the same small liberal arts college) and if you count the four years before I began attending school but during which I was raised by a public school teacher, then I've been impacted by public education, and directly affected by public school teachers since birth. I know school, and I know schools, and I'll tell you this: the federal government may have taken prayer out of schools, but God never left. 

The idea that God is standing outside of any school building in America waiting to be let in is, to me, ludicrous. He's God. God doesn't wait for an invitation. He sneaks in with children, with cafeteria ladies and teaching assistants who take home less pay than anyone just so they can make a positive impact in the life of a child. He attends school on the squared shoulders of administrators who sacrifice their own free lives to the service of their communities. His passion beams in the creative expression and determination that explodes within the hearts of teachers so full of compassion, generosity, care, and kindness that they take and take and take from their own earnings so that they can give and give and give to the betterment and service of those children….and to God's will. He enters within the hands and on the lips of school nurses and custodians who bless the halls they travel and the bandages they distribute.   
 

God is God and He will not be kept at the gates. I see Him every day in the faces of the children with whom I spend my time. I hear His Word on their lips, and I smile, because God is wise, wiser than state or nation, and although as teachers we may not be endorsed to teach His word, we are not required to silence His children who speak so innocently and so freely—and so eloquently of His love. And while we may not be asked to speak His word, you can be sure that a true educator demonstrates His love in will, in service, and in action. While His visage may not hang on our walls, a crucifix above our doors, surely, these exist in our hearts—from where else would our strength come?

 God called me to teach. I resisted, so He pushed me—two hands against my back—and He held firm until I accepted my destiny. Jesus' face cannot be seen, but His work is ever present—His legacy so poignantly displayed in service to the children of this world—His world. Never would I turn away from the opportunity to witness Jesus' face, but it does not need to be visible for one to see His love. God knows the atrocities that have been committed before his watching eyes and outstretched hands.

God is present in our schools. Prayer exists in schools—through the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, the moment of silence which begins each day, the words whispered from teachers' lips as they prepare and ask for strength and guidance and intervention, and through the declaration of countless American school children each morning, "One nation, under GOD, indivisible with liberty and justice for all."

Copyright © 2013. Carrie Ellen Campbell. All Rights Reserved. http://carriellencampbell.blogspot.com. Please respect Carrie's intellectual property. Sharing blog posts is permitted, but no part of this material may be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Contact Carrie at: carrieellencampbell@icloud.com.