Even in something as simple as a classroom.
I'm now in my sixth year of teaching, which feels weird to say. It honestly doesn't seem like that long ago when I was the newbie just trying to stay afloat. Now there are more newbies, and suddenly I am expected to know answers to certain questions and can no longer use the "new teacher" excuse for anything. And I'm comfortable in my role.
I love my job, and I love that because of what I teach I get to have some of my students for all four of their years in high school. I love getting to see how much they change during that time period—how much they mature and turn into true young adults. Sometimes even the kiddos who seem like they will just never "get it," so to speak, become some of the most wonderful people you've ever met, and you discover you're actually sad to see them leave. And it all happens in the classroom—that same classroom that was once just a plain room with boring walls and no real value. But it becomes more—so much more—after it's been decorated with student work or words of wisdom quotes or random pictures the kids printed off when you weren't looking or even pictures they colored for you when they had finished all of their work in your class.
And it becomes home.
I love looking around the room where I teach and seeing all that has collected on the walls over the years. It makes me smile to know that these walls tell stories and have allowed countless and significant journeys to pass through here year after year.
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| Her room is fabulous. |
My sister is in her first year of teaching, and I tried helping her set up her classroom a few weeks ago. Looking around the room, you might have become as discouraged as we felt at the time. How were we possibly going to take those old white walls and create an appealing atmosphere that students would enjoy? The entire task seemed overwhelming and way more than one or two people could handle.
But that didn't stop my precious sister.
I went to her classroom again yesterday, and I was completely amazed at the transformation I saw. Her room looks awesome, and I know it's because of all of the hard work she put in to making it so. She went up there day, after day, after day, after day. Her commitment to improving what once seemed so unpromising truly unfolded into something wonderful.
And that's not too far off from what we experience much of the time.
Just like changing the look of a classroom, our lives are often undergoing drastic changes that have to be done to reveal the beauty that needs to be surfaced. The more time and energy we devote to ensuring this happens, the more drastic the changes will be. Just like the students who come and go from teachers' lives over the years, we are going through transformations ourselves, whether we realize it or not.
I was so proud of my sister for finishing that room, and I hope she was, too. Heck, I was thrilled with the measly board I made for her, so I can't imagine how great she must have felt when she realized she had completed what was once such a daunting task. In a way, we are just like those classrooms—we might be in such messes, and it appears like things actually getting better would be more difficult than constructing the Wall of China, but God patiently gets us to where we need to be. He makes sure the end product is just as He envisioned—and it's wonderful.
Students come and go and hopefully grow to be better people before they leave; classrooms change from year to year, always telling new stories and reminding you of fond times in the past; people realize transformations they need to endure to become the gems they never knew they were; and an unchanging God is there for every step of each journey taken.
Don't let your walls stay empty.
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