Go Be Youi

Last week’s blog declared my intention to be more intentional when it came to God’s calling on my life. I had run and hidden enough. Well, I’m off! I am now certified to substitute teach in my home town school district. I spent two days in the classroom last week and I’ve accepted assignments all through the month of November. It’s not the ‘teaching’ I had in mind but I feel confident it is the type of teaching God had in mind for me, at least for the moment. You see real teachers, the ones that have been in the trenches since the pandemic, are my heroes. Their job description has been turned on its head. More and more has been expected of them from teaching virtually at home, with their own kids running around, to teaching virtually and in the classroom at the same time and being asked to sub in other classrooms on their prep time. All of this with less help. Because of the pandemic teacher aids and subs are in short supply. Teachers have retired early or have left the profession all together because of the stress of being forced to work in a setting they didn’t sign up for. As those at the head table of school districts around the country try their best to stay one step ahead of the changes COVID-19 has plagued them with, no one could have predicted the ravishes to our education system this has caused or the teaching shortage it has brought.

Hence, God’s nudge. Four out of the six of my adult children are teachers. The other two are coping with what the pandemic has done to their corporate working life. I can’t help them there. But I can teach and I’m good at it. I’ve made peace with being called to teach not only in schools but in churches and in my writing and will no longer ignore the gift nor allow others to tell me how that should look.

With all that said, I must tell you I’m in cultural shock. I’m a grandmother and the classroom decorum I remember has long been dismantled. My first subbing job last week felt like a three-ring circus. Seating charts? Yeah, right. Stay in your seats? Foreign idea. Stop talking? In your dreams, granny! And when did six graders get so tall and intimidating? What happened to playing kickball out on the playground?

My second day of subbing was for an adaptive PE teacher. Hadn’t a clue what that meant or how exhausting it would be. I had to travel to six different schools to assist children with varies disabilities in gym class. From dodge ball to capture the flag in its various and precarious forms. However, watching those kiddo’s faces light up as they got to play with the rest of their classmates, with my help, was a God-affirming moment.

As for my other gift? Well, you’re reading this aren’t you? I write. I’ve been called to write and later today I will carve out a significant chunk of time to work on my novel-in- progress.

Why have I told you all of this? Well, if a grandmother of ten is willing to be true to who God has made her, even if that includes getting hit in the head with a Nerf football on a jail break (you had to be there) then so can you. Maybe not exactly this, but true to your own God-giving talents. If I can encourage you to ignore the relentless pull of distractions that keep you from being who God intended, then God be the glory. Go be you.

Later,

deb

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