MALAWI
A Little
ENCOURAGEMENT L ast Tuesday, along with her crinkled coloring sheets and handwriting homework, my first-grader Anny pulled out a folded little note from her backpack. “My mom write this for you,” she said, handing it to me. The week before, I’d been losing focus. I was getting frustrated about little things like my students’ innocent clumsiness and mispronounced words, which are very normal things to find in a first-grade classroom! Simple
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tasks such as getting everyone to line up at the door were frequently interrupted by untied shoes, forgetting to push in a chair, or—just about when everyone was ready to go—a shy child raising his hand and asking if he could please go to the bathroom. I had a hard time being encouraging and patient and seeing past these common interruptions. I felt like I had no excuses. My students are smart, and they love school. No matter what mood I’m in, they are always
excited for whatever project or worksheet I set down on their desks. Their constant cooperation made me even more frustrated with myself. They deserved better from me. Over the weekend after that frustrating week, I knew something had to change, and my mind flashed back to how earnestly I had prayed at the beginning of the school year. I had never taught before. I hadn't known what to expect, and I was scared. I had prayed for patience, creativity, joy, and compassion, and the first week of the semester had been fantastic. So were the following weeks. With each school day, I became aware of opportunities to develop the things I had prayed for. Unfortunately, I'd begun to choose frustration over prayer. I wanted things to be like that first week of school again. I wanted to regain awareness for moments of laughter and silliness instead of frustration. “God, I need patience,” I prayed. “Please help me to show more love, more compassion, and more joy.” On Monday, my students were the silliest they had been
