I always get wistful in May.
With the end of the school year looming, my junior high special education teacher heart wavers between “I can’t wait!” and “Whoa, Nelly, slow down!”
On May 30, when those busses pull out of the school parking lot in a mirage of exhaust and Arizona heat, I’ll send my seventh graders home for a little while. I look forward to the break from all my teacher stuff, and I hope my little “sevies” will return a tad more mature on July 23.
But my eighth graders will be gone for good! Off to the high school to be big. No more chances to teach them the difference between “there” and “their” or “then” and “than.” No more chances to convince them that studying for tests is worth their time. No more chances to nudge them toward believing that they can succeed despite their learning challenges.
My time is up with another group of eighth graders. Some of them are so ready to fly that my heart swells with pride over how far they’ve come. But there are some I want to swoop up in my arms and just keep them for one more year (or five). I’m scared for them. Some are just so sweet and fragile that I fear they’ll be swallowed up by the chaos. Others are so misguided and confused that I fear the path they are on will lead them to actual prison or the prison of life-altering choices.
Jesus,
Can you ride the bus home with those eighth grade babies? Follow them through high school and keep them safe, please. Give them grown-ups and friends who push them to do what is right and good. Give them teachers who dare them to overcome their challenges and who assure them that they’ll support them the whole journey. Whisper warnings in their hearts and help them heed them. Whisper assurances in their hearts and help them believe them. Whisper “I will never leave you nor forsake you s” in their hearts and help them receive them.
This May, I’m extra heavy on the “wist.” (Is that a word?)
On May 30, after my students make their departure, I’ll park my caboose on hard metal bleachers to watch my firstborn graduate from high school. Just typing that twisted my heart into a knot.
Look at him!
David Garrett Merrill Class of 2012
Jesus, thank you for giving me this incredible young man to love and raise. He’s ready to get busy with the work of college and career. He’s ready to discover more about who he is and what he wants from life. I pray, in his quest for success and world impact, he’ll realize that a relationship with You is the key to both.
