Transitions

Walking in through the small door in the wooden gate, I am immediately overwhelmed by the joy of the Lord that I can see on dozens of adorable faces. They knew that I would be there, but still so many stare at me in awe as they take in the sight of their new teacher. One girl runs up and immediately leaps into my arms. Still others run to me as they pull on my arms and ask “How are you?” a million times, even after I’ve answered. (This is a sentence that I hear at least 75 times a day because it is a staple English sentence for all Kenyan kids) Still, others stand back, more apprehensive of me because I look and sound different than they do. I take in every face that I will be seeing for the days of the upcoming months and relish in knowing that these precious little ones will be such a part of my heart. Finally, I am stepping into the role that I heard God speak into my heart so long ago.

This week I have become the teacher of a Kenyan preschool class. I have laughed and cried and gotten frustrated and been encouraged and felt every single emotion you can imagine. Coming into this I thought I would be hanging out, helping Rose in the class and observing for a bit until I learn more Swahili--I could not have been more wrong.

In reality I have spent the majority of my time this week as the sole teacher in a classroom of 32 rambunctious Kenyan kids who speak very little English. They stare at me as I try to communicate with my small Swahili vocabulary and they laugh at me when I try to show them that I mean serious business. On Wednesday I was alone in the classroom for four hours and left the school thinking that I didn’t know if I could go back. Because it was HARD. Sure, recess is fun and during break time they sit in my lap and chase me around and hang on my arms so much that I am sure I will leave here with no arm hair, but when I walk into the classroom and become their teacher, the word respect holds no meaning.

They would get loud and run around and me saying the words “SIT DOWN” and “PLEASE BE QUIET” would have zero impact (even when I tried these phrases in Swahili, the kids would laugh). All of the student teaching in the world could not have prepared me for this.

And then I remembered that I was here because God called me to be. And I realized that I’d been relying on my educational training and not my spiritual training. And so I said a prayer for patience, took a deep breathe, decided not to give up, and kept trying new approaches, hoping one would work out.

This morning most of the students were in the classroom when I arrived at the school. They were all talking and playing and running around and I thought “Oh yeah, it’s Friday, kids are always out of control on Fridays.” So I lowered my expectations and stepped into the classroom.

Everyone sat down, everyone got silent, and 32 pairs of little eyes stared at me expectantly. I could have cried in that moment. But instead I smiled and thanked Jesus for His faithfulness and looked at my beautiful class and greeted them good morning and accepted all their hugs as I made my way to the front of the classroom and braced myself for another day of life in preschool land.