Determined Dreamer

I spent a majority of my childhood at Tabor City Baptist Church. To this day, I dream about the halls and rooms of TCBC and feel certain that I could draw a floor plan if I were architecturally gifted.

I spent a majority of my early adulthood at Gentry Primary and Erwin Elementary Schools. I dream about each of these schools—my classrooms and huts—my students—and my Barb. Barb was my art teacher. We ate together, moved a lot of furniture together, produced performances together, made thousands of tie-dye t-shirts together, handed out fruit-cake together, ran down the halls of Gentry together, and pretty much lived our working lives together for 8 years.

I suppose that my dreaming about TCBC, Gentry, Erwin, and Barb could have a deeper meaning of unresolved issues and feelings or something else. I feel certain that if Dr. Brock is reading this, then he’s thinking beyond the surface of my dreams. But that’s not my focus today. My focus today is that I’ve been working in my sleep for the past few months and I’m therefore exhausted.

Take this morning, for example. I woke up late because I was determined to keep educating my students at Erwin about capitalism and human exploitation. There’s no way to write out the entire dream, but, in short, we had had an assembly—during which Barb and I sat in the back, giggled, and I wore no shoes—and I had decided to have my students write a poem or song about what they had learned. When we got to the classroom, however, we ended up debriefing the assembly and I tried to help my students visualize things, know how to use their imaginations, determine options for solving problems, compare something to a roller coaster, and understand capitalism as it related to dry erase boards vs. chalk boards.

In my dream, I guided the students to realize that the inventor of dry erase boards had created the need for them and thus wiped out (no pun intended) the need for chalk boards. In doing this, he forced schools to purchase new white boards, erasers, cleaner, and pens—the latter of which would easily run out, demand that schools constantly purchase new ones, and thus create hazardous trash that would fill landfills for thousands of years to come.

Each time I’d come close to making the connection to how this relates to human exploitation and what the students could do to stop it, a teacher would come get her class. During one period, entire families came with their students, but one family had left their baby at home because each parent thought the other had her. I assured them that the baby would be okay, that she was probably sleeping and didn’t even know she’d been left alone. So they went to get their baby, escorted by a childhood friend. And I taught. Through all six periods of the day, I taught. When I finally woke up, I realized that the teachers had been my alarm clock trying to get me out of bed.

There are days when I miss teaching. I miss the students and I miss the teachers. I miss the classrooms that I worked so hard to make quality learning environments and I miss the diversity of persons whom surrounded me. I miss singing and I miss music. But mostly, I miss my Barb.

I think it’s interesting that I spent last night teaching about human exploitation. It’s been a hard week. It’s been a week of heartache, division, slander, exposed lies, sadness, questions, judgment, and weaponry—God’s name being the biggest, most misused weapon of them all. I have doubted what I’m doing with my life and if my work and passions make any difference at all. I’ve felt overwhelmed and defeated more moments than not, and I’ve wept painful tears of brokenness and lost hope.

And yet…I dreamt of enduring friendship and the unwavering determination to educate about human exploitation—to educate about standing up for those who cannot speak for themselves. I dreamt of persevering when it would have been easier to give up. And I dreamt of jumping high enough to literally touch the ceiling and being surprised when my students told me that they didn’t start each day trying to do the same. I told them that they should—that it was fun!

Sometimes I struggle with the faith that was planted and nurtured at Tabor City Baptist Church. And sometimes I struggle with my call out of the public schools and into full-time vocational ministry. This week has been full of struggle. But I guess, at the end of the day, when I couldn’t see anything but four walls of limitation, my dreams showed their power and released me and gave me the strength—but not the peaceful sleep!—to go on.

Amen.