The Fountain of Youth

Any parents of young children can tell you it’s because there are so many things to stop and discover!  I remember trying to take my kids for a walk just around the block, and we’d stop three times before reaching the end of the driveway because my daughter saw a Roly-Poly (a pillbug), or an exciting flower (which was actually a weed), or just to pick up a couple of pebbles. At first, I would indulge her curiosity and revel in my position as “Ultimate Knowledge-Giver and Exciting New Discovery Namer.”  However, my impatient nature and A+ personality would soon take over, and conflict would build between my insistent “Keep walking!” and her eager “Mommy, look!”  Eventually, I learned that if I was out for a bit of exercise, it was wiser to put her in the stroller before we left the garage.  Otherwise, if I knew we were out just to discover, I prepared myself for all the energy it would take to restrain my pace and just follow her lead.

However, I never forgot her eyes and energy: the sheer wonder and profound beauty of those moments of discovery.  What would it be like to see the tiny miracles of our world through the eyes of a toddler again, discovering it for the first time?

I began to look for moments of discovery.  I found them in reading a wide range of books, in visiting new places, trying out new foods, and meeting new people.  I would share my revelations with various friends and family, excitement overflowing, words streaming, and soon realized that this kind of youthful discovery also requires a type of blind childlike faith.  As adults, I wonder at how we often don’t realize how much of our youth dissipates when in direct contact with logic.  Nobody wants to appear stupid. The act of discovery enthralls a child, but even a pre-teen will learn to cover up her exuberance for fear of appearing immature or ignorant.

When I consider the armor of God Paul wrote about in Ephesians 6, I never considered that the Shield of Faith included protection of our humility and youthful innocence, but then again, he doesn’t say that it doesn’t.

At any rate, I continue to welcome the joy of discovery from all corners of my life.  Interestingly, I find those moments by being present with my students.  Even as teenagers, they still experience the joy of discovery; their moments may not look like those of a toddler, but one can still observe and participate in the  fun and wonder in their reactions.  What a joy and an honor to witness and, at times, play a role in a child’s discovery and growth!  When I think about the texts I have read and analyzed with a class several times a day for the past ten years, I get bored.  However, I still love reading them with kids every year, because every year, the kids still find something new in them.  Every year, I see the class texts differently because if I listen closely, I get to discover them through new eyes.

Today, my classes begin taking final exams.  Part of the final exam for my sophomores asks them to reflect on how they have grown as readers and writers.  I also provide a space for them to tell me what worked to help them grow, and what caused them to backslide.  I will specifically ask for their opinions on the effectiveness of various assignments and activities we’ve done throughout the year.  This is perhaps the scariest/my favorite part of the final exam.  I’m looking forward to reading their responses, but also dreading it.  The work required to create an assignment is akin to writing bits of verses in one’s journal, then growing that root of an idea into a fully-developed poem.  It begins very raw and tender, and it’s an expression of my heart.  When students claim, “This is stupid!” it actually hurts my feelings – not because of my ego, but simply because I was trying something new and it feels like the kid is calling me stupid.  (I know that this isn’t what’s happening, but this is what it feels like.)  Asking for students’ feedback on how well the work I create for them helps them strengthen their skills is vitally important to my journey as a leader and a teacher, but that doesn’t always make it easy.  

All this said, I’m more looking forward to reading their responses than dreading it.  This is because I know I’ll have moments of joyful discovery as I see the world through a child’s eyes again, and this exercise in childlike faith makes me a better wife, mother, colleague, and teacher.  I have faith that gathering this feedback and implementing some of it helps my students next year reach their goals more efficiently, too. Acting on faith brings me closer to the Father and His place for me in Heaven.

When I read this passage from Luke, I wouldn’t venture to say I know exactly how to interpret it, nor exactly what Jesus was saying, but for me, this morning, it’s about receiving God’s gift of salvation with wide eyes of wonder.  It’s about marveling at the astonishing depth of His love.  It’s about living the humble faith of a child.  It’s about arriving at the gates of Heaven and the dumbstruck look I think I’ll have when His awesome glory envelopes me like a warm hug.

Truthfully, this may be why I continue to teach.  I’m preparing for that moment when I finally get to come home to my favorite teacher Jesus, my friend the Holy Spirit, and my loving Father.  I’m watching and learning from my students because I understand age, experience, and the world each has a tendency to make me forget.  I’m preparing to enter heaven with the wonder, faith, and humility of a child, and my students are my teachers.