i am a teacher

School's back in session... all too soon. And that means I am "Miss Dell" again, or sometimes the more endearing term "Señorita" (although its not always correctly pronounced.)
Back to 5:00 in the morning wake-ups, commutes while its still dark, bellwork, attendance, verb drills and D-halls. Actually that makes my class sound miserable. Quite the contrary I try to make it as interactive and fun as possible. But you tell me if this wouldn't get old...
"Mrs. Dale I'm gonna fail this quiz."
"Why do you say that?"
"You didn't give us no word bank. Can I get partial credit for sayin' em in English?"
"No, the whole point was to know them in Spanish. Did you study?"
"YEAH. I just didn't know you was gonna make us say em' in Spainish without no word bank."
"So... let me get this straight. You're mad at ME... because you didn't study (the half-sheet of vocabulary words I gave you) enough. That makes total sense."
Actually, that last part was only said in my head. But its how I feel. Somewhere along the line a shift has taken place in which NO student takes an ounce of responsibility for their learning. The teacher is there to miraculously (by osmosis, it seems) place the knowlege within each one's head.
But you know what? I'm surprisingly thankful to be relating that story to you. Why? You might ask. Because... it is SO much better to be lamenting to you all about problems that seem common to all teachers. The alternative, of course, being to lament about my strange and inexplicable (sometimes clinical-level) anxiety over it all. Not so much the students and their shortcomings, but the responsibility of showing up there every day, standing up in front of a crowd, choosing assignments, giving grades, driving home and paying the bills, etc. Those are the lamentations I shudder at. The common ones about students being silly or lazy or rude... I welcome them.
I believe God helped me see something today. That each one of my students is coming in and out of my room and I think of them as people, yes, but only that. The truth is that Satan is CLAWING at each one of them. His demons swarm around them, each seeking to attack and tempt in specific and frightening ways. He's got some of them convinced they are homosexuals (or going home to parents who are.) Others he's convinced that they are ready for a sexual relationship with their also-teen-aged girlfriend or boyfriend. Some battle with feelings of inferiority and believe they are stupid. Others are tempted by pride because everything's been handed to them and they are beautiful or wealthy and admired.
And for one hour of each day, they come into my room and I try to teach them a foreign language. We write, we practice speaking, we take quizzes, we goof-off, and in all things I'm attempting to be this "aroma of Christ" to a dying world. I'm convinced that God smiles at my little trailer-classroom as I attempt this year to shine his light from that little point on the map... even if the only good I do is to fiercly pray for these kids. If I can do NOTHING else for them, there is power in petitioning an Almighty God on their behalf. May he heal their diseases, breathe life into their broken homes, and use me to both whisper and shout messages of truth by my words and by my example. Though they barely regard my hard work, though some even claim to hate me, I DO love them.