'Twas the Before School...

In the beginning, the elohim created skies and earth.

Welcome back. Let's think about tomorrow.

They're coming. They're coming. Nothing can stop them. No ministry of magic can halt them. They will be here soon enough. In fact, they are just a few hours away. No amount of medication can ease the anxiety of their arrival. It will happen. I must let it happen.I have no choice. To resist is futile.

I'm writing about students of course.  Our second semester begins tomorrow. I will be teaching a subject I've never taught, British Literature, and one subject I've taught twice now, American Literature. Luckily for me, they are my favorites besides the Bible and theology.

In truth, I can talk to anyone for hours and hours about great literature, the Bible, and theology. I am never intimidated by content.

However, earlier today, as I looked over the names of the students, none of whom I know, I wondered how many among them would be teachable. Heck, I wondered how many would be approachable. With that wondering came visions of sullen, irate, crabby kids. Surely, a few will dawdle day in and day out. Others will militantly defy any learning I might try to whip up in my classroom. I could just about bet the house on that. 

I know something now that I merely intimated before. Those emotions are old feelings emerging from ghosts of hellish classes long past. Such emotions fuel anxiety dreams that I have from time to time where an administrator suddenly pops into my classroom to evaluate me on the day I forgot to wear my trousers.

Oh those irrational fears torment us so. Indeed, when I consider the facts of late, I know that I am unable to make one reliable prediction about the students who are coming.  

Last semester, only seven students failed my three classes. That's seven out of ninety! Only three failed the Georgia writing test. Many of my students were polite, fun, and interesting. They refuted my phantoms from yesterday.

This kind of experience makes it impossible for me to accept the finality of my judgment about anything. I am reminded once again of my own fallibility and ignorance. I can never say with certainty what God is, what life is, who people really are, and who my students will be tomorrow.

I can only say that the worst moments of the past do not dictate what is happening to me now. So I hope, believe, and love with a view that the places where those ways lead me are overwhelmingly the best settings for my life story.

Blessings...