PA L AU
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icture this. You’re 20 years old in an unfamiliar country with absolutely no background in teaching, standing in front of a classroom of 28 first-graders. That was me on day one of being a student missionary. The biggest challenge I faced during the next 10 months on the island of Palau was feeling completely and utterly unqualified for the privilege of teaching these precious kids. But God often calls the unqualified, right? There were days when, after the children left the classroom, I would sink to the floor, holding
back tears because, let’s face it, I wasn’t fit to teach these six-yearolds. I would think to myself, Am I teaching these kids anything at all? Are they receiving the education they deserve? Looking back now, I realize that when I volunteered to become a missionary, I thought I’d be the one doing all the teaching. In reality, the children ended up teaching me. My first-graders taught me beautiful lessons on love. Every Tuesday and Thursday morning, I’d stand in front of my classroom, waiting for them to stream
First-Grade Love
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through the door. They’d greet me as if they hadn’t seen me in months. I would open my arms wide, and, one by one, receive the warmest hugs I’d ever felt. “Ms. Lysa, I missed you!” “Ms. Lysa, I made something for you!” “Ms. Lysa, he hit me!” “Ms. Lysa, she’s lying!” “Ms. Lysa, can I play games today?” “Ms. Lysa, can I tell you a joke?” “Ms. Lysa! Ms. Lysa! Ms. Lysa…” One day, I was losing my patience because it seemed like I’d repeated myself a hundred times, asking the children to sit down, be quiet, and behave. I wondered how many times I’d have to ask before they learned their lesson. When would they understand that I was simply trying to help them? When would they realize 1
