Friday, June 03, 2005

"Good Work" and the Flip Side

"He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join Him in the work He does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing." Ephesians 2:10 (Msg)

I am a Chistian teacher in public school (a paradox in itself) facing the last few days I will meet with my students this year and walking towards the last minutes of opportunity to have a positive influence on their lives. Lord remind me they are your children. Remind me they are more than a number . . .

More than a Number
For my students, By Kristin Baker

I am more than a number.
I am someone’s child, will be someone’s parent.
I am Someone’s creation.
I came into this world chasing knowledge, ready to try anything.
I stacked blocks and counted to ten, but fall asleep in your math class.
I lived for trips to the zoo, but failed Biology last semester.
I sang my ABC’s to smiling faces, but my essays are covered in red.

I am more than a filled desk.
I have fears, questions, memories.
I have a Creator.
I came into this world with innocent dreams, innocent needs.
I said I would be an Astronaut, but will be lucky to get a diploma.
I couldn’t wait to show my Batman lunch box, but hate my levis when Abercrombie’s walk by.
I have a dad who rocked me to sleep, but he kicked me out again last night.

I am more than a label.
I have hidden talents, a future career.
I have a divine purpose to be here.
I came into this world with my fingerprints.
I kicked a ball at recess, now I am a dumb jock.
I wrote the wrong letter on the board, now I’m a slow learner.
I got quiet after the divorce, now I’m just another "goth" in all black.

I am more than an absence.
I am somewhere, may not be coming back.
I am “God knows where.”
I came into this world with a family who anticipated for months, years.
I had a decorated nursery four months before I arrived, but your classroom looks like a jail cell.
I saw happy tears when coming back from camp, but they sigh when I ask for make-up work.
I had thirty neighbors searching when I toddled down the street one day, but now it’s just “unexcused.”

I am more than a statistic.
I listen to you, have someone I want to be.
I have a calling.
I came into this world by myself.
I have a mom from Venezuela, but I’m just another Hispanic male.
I live in a small house that was always big enough for me, but my “economic status” made me “at-risk.”
I didn’t have a dad growing up, but now I’m just another pregnant girl with no self-control.

I am more than another student.
I have a past, a future.
I was placed in your class by two kinds of Counselors.
I used to be “a delightful child”, now I “show no apparent interest in learning.”
I used to get my sandwich sliced sideways with no crust, now I am a bar code.
I used to be mom’s “precious little angel”, now I’m an ID number, a class rank,
and one of thirty empty faces.

You failed me.
Oh, yeah . . .
I got an F, too.

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them." ~ Mother Theresa

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