Fly!

You know how they say, "You don't have to be a rocket scientist to understand this"? It so happens that I have a friend whose uncle really is a rocket scientist. He can understand just about anything related to the laws of physics. I, however, neither have such an uncle nor can lay claim to understand the laws of aerodynamics. But one memorable day I was destined to learn at least a little about the law that takes planes off the ground.

I had been doing my student teaching practicum. Everything was going great guns—lessons flowed smoothly, children were interacting in ways that showed their little dendrites were firing off admirably. Life was good. Then came the day the teacher was to step back and I would have sole control of everything and everyone. Piece of cake, I thought. Ha!

Instead of just continuing with the teacher's excellent and already proven plans, I opted to take the classroom to "a new level". Add more centers! Introduce more learning concepts! The sky's the limit!

How could something I looked forward to so much turn out so wrong? Confusion reigned—in students and paraprofessional alike. The centers became jumbled up convocations of confusion. Students didn't know where to go, what to do, when to do it. So much for impressing my host teacher, who just sat back quietly letting me make a royal fool of myself.

I don't know how the day ended. All I know is that arrangements were made to return to the tried and true on the morrow. Anything other that that I was too traumatized to remember. What I do recall vividly, though, is the dank despair into which I sunk. Everything had gone wrong. My innovations were complete failures. How could I ever face the teacher and students again?

In the morning I grudgingly read my Bible and devotional, which had a word of encouragement for every day of the year. The passage for that day told about how planes achieve lift—they fly into the wind. Translated into our spiritual life it means that to rise above our troubles, we have to (gulp) face them.

Face my troubles? Show my face again in that classroom where I had failed so grandly ? But that was exactly the message I was getting from God.

Feeling chastised, I slunk into the classroom. Nonetheless, with the admonition from my devotional in mind, I exerted as much effort as I could to fly above my adversities— my shoulders might have been drooping, but I held my chin up high. Quietly I left my grandiose plans in the folder where they best belonged and humbly took up the previous rhythm and order the teacher had so wonderfully instituted.

Imagine my surprise when I later got the hosting teacher's evaluation. It was excellent in every respect! I couldn't believe it. I asked how it was possible when I had flubbed my innovations in such a terrible way. Looking at me with a gravitas that lent credit to her words, she explained, "Janine, every student teacher I have ever had just followed my plans. You were the first one ever to institute some kind of innovation. So it didn't go as planned." She smiled. "That's how we learn. You have all the makings of an excellent teacher."

I felt nine feet tall. I flew. With her glowing evaluation, I found the principal offering me my first teaching position.

If I had had my druthers, I would have thrown in the towel on that terrible day and slunk away in shame. But with God's encouragement I faced my winds of adversity and God saw me through. I flew. And in flying, I experienced the glory of God.

Whatever your adversity, may God give you the grace to fly.

"I bare you eagles' wings, and brought you unto myself" (Exodus 19:4).