While these things hurt, they draw me closer to Him. They force me to think about unpleasant and difficult things....real things....things that matter.
School is out and I am sitting in my classroom doing some prep work for the next day. I hear a tiny voice outside my door. "May I come in, mademoiselle Katie?" I open the door to find Biolan. He is one of my first grade students who I suspect has autism. He is eleven years old but probably could pass as a scrawny six year old in the United States. From what I know, he lives with extended family. There are at least twelve other children living in his house. I'm certain that he is put last when it comes to food, clothing, and affection. While I know that I would get more work done if I were alone, I allow him to come inside. He has changed out of his school uniform and is wearing nothing but an old t-shirt. He opens his hands to show me his treasures: a bottle cap and a few plastic beads. He sits down beside me and watches me as I cut up pieces of construction paper for a school project. When I make a pile of bits and pieces of scrap paper, his eyes light up. "Can I have these??" he asks. I tell him yes, and he immediately adds the tiny pieces of paper to his collection of treasures.
I'm in my classroom full of 1st graders. As I walk around the classroom checking their work, I award a sticker for each correct paper. When the packet of stickers runs out, I walk to the trashcan and without even thinking I drop the empty sticker sheet into the trash. I turn around and walk to the front of the classroom. When I turn back to face the class, I see one of the boys bending down over the trashcan. He stands up proudly smiling. In his hand is the cover of the sticker pack. It is a piece of paper with a few pictures of farm animals printed on it. He looks as if he just found twenty dollars.
It is 3:00 and the students are filing out of their classrooms. I am tidying up in my class when I hear some rowdy kids outside of my door. I step outside to see what the fuss is about. Two 1st grade girls are fighting. They're fighting over trash. They had been digging through the one of the school's large trashcans and discovered some used styrofoam coffee cups. Lorisena looks at me proudly and says, "I can use these to make a game!"
I see things like this all the time in Jubilee. In the midst of my busy day teaching, I can't stop to think about it or focus on it. When I'm home, it hits me and it comes up from that deep place where it was resting. I look around. I have a bed, a computer, clothes, shoes, food, and more than I can count. And they fight over trash. My kids, my students fight over trash. As I think about it more, I am realizing that is not the heart of the matter. That is not what bothers me the most.
I know how poor the children in Jubilee are. I know where they live, and for the most part, I have an understanding of what their life is like. However, in my classroom I forget about all of that. I hold them to a higher standard. I don't look at them as "the poor kids of Jubilee". I know they are able to learn. I know they are smart and capable. I view them as God's children. I view them as more than their circumstances. So, when I see them digging through the trash it hurts because I know they are more than that. They are sons and daughters of the creator of the universe. They are heirs to the Kingdom of God. I want the people of Gonaives to recognize that my students are more than that. Most importantly, I want my students to recognize believe that they are more than that.
James 2:5 Listen to me, dear brothers and sisters. Hasn't God chosen the poor in this world to be rich in faith? Aren't they the ones who will inherit the Kingdom he promised to those who love him?
I love that you are with the kids. So much.
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