The story of how I got into teaching is somewhat of a long one (maybe I’ll tell it someday), but suffice it to say, I’m in this job by divine intervention. Therefore, I’ve thought it fitting to say a prayer every morning in the school parking lot, before I head in to start the day. My standard prayer is something like, “Dear God, please don’t let me get my butt kicked today,” and sometimes I’ll throw in the “please let the day go well for the kids, too.” Almost never, though, do I ever stop to ask for God’s opinion on anything. Today, I did. (It’s Spring Break, but I was still
worrying thinking about school.) This is what I got back:
My primary fear in teaching is that I’m going to screw up up my students’ lives. I won’t teach well enough. I’ll grade too hard. My tutorial times aren’t convenient enough. I expect too much. I’m too serious and will alienate them. I’m not simultaneously teaching and nurturing them as people. I’m not good enough.
Sure, I know the stories about how God has chosen the underdog before to do his work. He chose Moses, a stutterer, to boldly proclaim to Pharaoh that he should let the Israelites go. He chose David, a scrawny teen at the time, to defeat the giant, Goliath. He even chose Paul, a Christian-murder, to become, arguably, the greatest apostle and spreader of the Gospel. They were all good enough for the work God chose them to do. I guess I’m good enough for the work God chose me to do.
But that has not permanently comforted me. What if I’m still doing something wrong?