The teacher continued down the hall. The student looked at me with a grin, and a glint of mischief. Jake always had a glint of mischief in his brown eyes.
"Bridget says I can have a cookie when I have a good day!" he shouted at me.**
Oh dear, this is an omen. Note to self: 3rd grade teacher thinks nothing will work but cookies.
Translate: I have my work cut out for me.
Omen came true.
Shouting out answers, pulling hair, throwing chairs, screaming at the top of his lungs, coming in two hours late, you name it.
But, I taught him - taught him through the most difficult year of my teaching career. He and 22 others. One with down's syndrome. One who would curl up, fetal-style, under her desk and refuse to come out for hours. One who never talked to me or any other adult the first 3 months. One who flipped out most Fridays, afraid to go home and face the alcoholism and anger. Two with major anger management issues. Most with life tainted by alcohol. Lives tainted by pain and sorrow, yet endurance and strength.
I taught Jake in 4th grade, then 5th grade math, then transferred up to teaching middle school where I taught him in 6th and 7th grades as well. He came to school - sometimes.
Sometimes, he'd tell me he'd never gone to sleep the night before. Sometimes, he went to bed "on time": 2am.
He still showed up. Endurance, I tell you. Endurance with a touch of boredom, probably.
Then came that year.
That year where I had to tell the kids it was time for us to leave - leave the village, leave our only home as a married couple. Leave these kids for whom God had shattered our hearts. Leave these kids over whom we'd cried ourselves to sleep.
I had to tell 6 classes worth of kids. Finally, by 5th and 6th periods, I was able to speak without blubbering.
Used a whole box of tissue just for me.
I saw moisture in the eyes from the kids as well. These kids who'd seen so many teachers say they cared for them, then leave. These kids who made up my world.
And would you believe? Only one kid grabbed a tissue. One kid out of one hundred. One macho 7th grade boy.
That kid was Jake.
___________________________
Please take a few minutes to listen to this song.
"More than Gold Song"
As you do, just know that as I listened, I blubbered - had to leave the room. Had to take an hour to get out all the tears, then wipe myself up. Still cry every single time I hear it.
The video shows children in Africa, but I didn't exactly picture those kids.
The kids I pictured had dark hair, hints of frost bite on their cheeks, slanty-ish eyes, worn clothes, and gleaming white smiles.
Kids like these:
And many, many more.
Kids whom the Father knows.
Kids whom He knit together inside of the womb.
Kids whose every hair He counts.
Kids whom every day is ordained.
Kids for whom His very blood was shed.
Kids who are worth more than gold.
More Than Gold
Verse 1:
To the forgotten
The ones on the margins
Where darkness has eclipsed
The light in your days
To hearts that are broken
Abandoned and orphaned
You have a face
You have a name
Pre-chorus:
Do you know your worth?
Do you know your worth?
Chorus:
More than gold
More than diamonds cut in the deepest mine
You far outshine them all
Verse 2:
Your eyes tell the story
Of torment and glory
Knowing too well
A hunger inside
Alive but you’re dying
So tired of fighting
To let the truth
Silence the lies
Bridge:
You are alive
And you are so much, you’re so much more
You are alive
Tag:
You have a face
You have a name
Music by Olivia Pothoff. Lyrics by Olivia Pothoff & Kim McIntyre.
© 2012
**Teachers often go by their first names in Chevak.
.
