"Her mountains did not break her, instead they only shaped her."At the beginning of last school year, we as a staff were reminded that we would have moments where we would become frustrated, discouraged, and would want to give up. it's a natural hazard of the profession; so, in anticipation of those moments, we were handed a half sheet of paper, pens, colored pencils, and were tasked with creating a picture or a quote to which we could turn for encouragement during difficult moments.
As I was handed my paper and coloring utensils, a verse that has characterized my time in California immediately popped into my mind. I spent the next 15 minutes sketching it out: "I will lift my eyes to the hills--from where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth." Underneath my rudimentary drawing of the tram face mountain in Squaw, I wrote the words, "Look to the hills".
I'd had premonitions that the 2018-2019 school year would be difficult, but I couldn't have predicted the countless times I would look to the hills to remind myself that somehow, in some way beyond my comprehension, God was in control and everything would be okay. Other than a child psychology and development 101 class I took sophomore year of college, I'd had no training in teaching early childhood education. I substitute taught in maybe 3 different kindergarten classrooms over the course of 6 months, did none of my student teaching in early childhood classes, and had not even attended public school myself in kindergarten so I had a very limited background that I could draw from.
When people frequently asked me how the year was going and how I was enjoying kindergarten, I used one particular analogy to explain the difficulty that I was going through. The analogy was this: teaching kindergarten was like being plopped on a sailboat with no knowledge of sailing, and being told that I needed to navigate the boat to an island in 9 months with nothing but a star chart to guide me. A dubious gift, since I have only the slightest notions of how to find my way using the stars. Oh and then let's throw in 21 miniature sailors that I have to somehow educate in the ways of the tides, oceans, and sailing itself. That's what teaching was like last year.
I don't say this to either victimize myself or to puff myself up, but instead, I say it to highlight the strength and the depth of the grace that my Lord possesses. I've come to the conclusion that with the weight of responsibility and expectations I carried largely by myself this year, I oftentimes operated from a psychological state of duress. It's honestly a miracle to see how much my students learned and grew this year.
I remember breaking into tears multiple times those first few weeks of school as the enormity of the year's responsibilities settled weightily on my mind. How could I ever achieve what was expected of me, what was necessary for the year? It felt a lot like standing at the base of a dark, looming mountain and wondering how I could possibly scale such a steep, gigantic piece of rock. Just like climbing a real mountain, I had to take it step by step, day by day, until now, finally, I can stand at the pinnacle with my arms raised, shouting at the top of my lungs in exultation and relief that this hike is over.
Perhaps it was prophetic, or perhaps not, but as we stood in a circle during that staff training day, I told my colleagues, "I wrote 'Look to the hills', because just like how the weather, snow and rain soften the sharp edges of the mountains, I think the storms and weather I'll face this year will soften me and will shape me if I let them."
As I look up at that same mountain face today (I literally climbed the mountain yesterday), I'm struck with odd gratitude for the stormy climb I faced last year, how it shaped me, softened my edges, and I know now for sure that God DOES give us more than we can handle sometimes because then He can show up in ways that highlight our need for Him. If scaling that figurative mountain of teaching kindergarten this past year isn't proof enough, the coming mountain range is. There's the possibility of unemployment for a time, or of changing the field of education I'm in, which may require more schooling and more certifications.But as Morgan Harper Nichols' poem says, last year's mountain did not break me--they shaped me. And I believe that this next mountain will shape me, and the next one, and the one after that, until I finally reach the end of the journey. Where a year ago that would have overwhelmed me to tears, now I'm okay with it. I'll just start up the path, day by day and step by step with the faith that, with a lot of prayers and help, I'll eventually reach the summit.
