A Public School Reflection

One thing you need to know about me: I support the public schools.

In fact, I'll be so bold as to say that there is nowhere in America that has more potential to meet a diverse population of children and youth for Christ than the public school system. To be a Christian teacher in the public schools, though met with the mandate of not "preaching" Christ in explicitly "Christian" language, is, to me, to be on the front lines of the mission field. A public school teacher comes into regular contact with students of all races, ethnicities, cultures, religions, socio-economic levels, and levels of family support. During those 180 days of contact, teachers have the unparalleled opportunity to be Love to their students--to embrace them, support them, show them discipline and grace, and give them the tools that they need to become the best individuals and team players that they can be. In my estimation, teachers are the hands and feet of Christ--those who, day in and day out, feed the hungry, provide water for the thirsty, welcome the outcast, clothe the naked, take care of the sick, and visit those in prison (see Matthew 25).

The process of making the decision to leave the public schools for "full-time vocational ministry" was agonizing for me, yet as much as I support the public schools and the teachers who work there, I know that my life has always been leading me in a different direction--even if it is one that I sometimes still fight against. To this day, I sometimes miss my classroom--my students, their parents, my colleagues, the programs, the equipment with which I stocked the classrooms, the educational videos and websites that I practically had memorized--and I often dream about the two schools where I spent the most time.

I think of one of my favorite students, J, who, during my first year of teaching appeared as the voice of God. As I taught a rhythm stick lesson to my kindergarten classes, I wondered what I was doing and what impact I could possibly be making on the world. Very simply, I prayed, "God, show me why I'm here." At the begining of my next class period, J walked in, gave me a hug, grinned at me, and said, "Who, who, who gave you that necklace? Your huzzzzzband?" In my mind, he had just said, "I am why you are here, Miss Deaton." For the next seven years, I loved J with everything I had. I checked up on him, tutored him, laughed with him, cried for him, and did everything I could to make sure he had a chance to make it in this world. I don't know where he is now--time and distance have separated us--but I pray that he remembers his elementary music teacher and knows that she loved him and believed in him--unconditionally.

So teachers: thank you. Thank you for what you have done and/or are doing to impact this world with God's love. The way I see it, there are few jobs more worthwhile than teaching--even when the hours are long, the paperwork endless, the testing/assessments/legalities overwhelming, the colleague and parent relationships stressful, and the immediate returns not seen. You are making a lasting impact on entire generations of students, and I believe that you will be remembered in eternity for your selfless acts of love and grace. I respect you immensely. And I love you.

And non-teachers: consider becoming involved with the public schools. Pray for your local schools, their students and teachers, and be open to ways that you can be involved. Volunteer. Read. Tutor. Cut paper. Chaperone. Adopt a teacher. Provide her/him with supplies that slashed budgets eliminate. Save box tops for education and Campbell's soup labels. Provide food for students who will go home without food for the night or weekend. Provide shoes and clothes for students whose parents cannot--or will not--provide for them. Host a teacher appreciation event for a local school. Attend local school plays and concerts. The possibilities are endless. Please, just consider something.

Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?' The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' (excerpt from Matthew 25)