I woke up with low-grade frustration. That sounds sort of spiritual. Actually, I was angry, aggravated, or just plain old ticked off. I was angry at a virus. I was angry that incompetent politicians have laid out mandates where people who are perfectly fine must miss work for almost a month. I was angry at the interruption. I was angry at the expense. And I was angry at the systematic watering down (actually there is another word that comes to mind, but I am already going to get enough hate mail for saying watered-down) of our children’s education.
I was mad as I listened to people talk about computers, platforms, lawsuits, and safety protocols without ever mentioning the kids. What is best for them? That should not be the forgotten question.
I was mad because I had to fill in for classes most of the day. I believe it is good for administrators to teach. As a matter of fact, I believe they should. One should be kept connected, if nothing else, to see how the policies we make affect the people who are actually doing the job.
But on this day, I had a lot to do. Funds are hard to come by, and we need funds. We have a brand to highlight and a future to consider. Nevertheless, desperate times call for Heads of Schools to cover classrooms.
The kids were nervous. They had a speech in one of the classes I covered. It seemed that nothing could reduce students to a pile of nerves like a 3-minute speech.
Finally, the time came. We used Facetime to connect the teacher with the class, and the speeches began, and I was not prepared for what I heard.
I expected stumbling and stammering. I expected to feel sorry for them, and they broke out into a cold sweat. But my expectations were obliterated, as our students stood confidently, spoke articulately, and reasoned persuasively. I sat there with my mouth opening with a clear understanding that what we are doing is working. After all, those who can communicate shape the world. And those who can communicate like those students did will move the world.
I am, therefore, once again driven to the same conclusion. They are worth it. They are worth jumping through the hoops. They are worth working longer and harder with several added layers of stress. They are worth doing what we must do to move the mission forward.
In the end, our future depends on God working through a new generation of Christian leaders. And I have a daily front row seat. The present is murky, but the future is bright. Thus, I praise God for unexpected interruptions to my life. For in the interruptions, he sometimes reminds us what we are doing is working; what’s at stake in the mission.
I hope I have more interruption like this!!!!!