Grace in My Classroom

It started like it always does for me: spotty peripheral vision. I hadn't had a migraine in a few years, but I could tell immediately what it was. Little flashes of black spots were covering my eyes, and I couldn't read the page in front of me. I was at work, and I was trying to muscle through the pain. I popped two ibuprofen and waited expectantly for them to work their magic.

In the meantime, classes were changing, and I was in the hall trying to greet my students. I'm sure what I felt was a smile looked more like a grimace. I was in serious pain, after all. About that time, here came one of my students. On a normal day, he is one of my favorites. He says the silliest things and makes me smile. But this day, he bumped into me from behind. On purpose. As a joke. 

Couldn't he tell I was hurting? That my brain was about to explode? 

Then, out of my mouth came the words. I'm not sure exactly what I said, but I know the tone I said them in, and my silly, funny student's face fell like I'd kicked his dog. With a bowed head, he apologized and slunk past me into the classroom where he found his seat.

Ephesians 4:2 tells us to "be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love." In my moment of physical weakness, I'd been the antithesis of patient. I'd snapped. Immediately I felt terrible for how nasty I'd been to my student. He was just trying to be playful, and I'd shot him down. I'd become another grumpy adult with mood swings he couldn't trust. 

Once I started class and got everyone working on their assignment, I went over to the student's desk and crouched in the floor. I said, "I'd like to apologize for snapping at you. I have a really bad migraine, and I'm feeling kind of crummy. You startled me, but that was no excuse for me to be so hateful. I hope you will forgive me." He replied that it was no big deal, but I could tell in his eyes he was still hurt. I carried the weight of my words well into the evening that night, and I found myself praying for this little ninth grade boy and praying for forgiveness for my words. The next day, my heart soared when he came in the room smiling at me. My student acted like nothing was wrong between us, and he went back to being silly and playful.

I so want to be the teacher who is always cheerful, positive, and fun. My students deserve that. But at the same time, it is unrealistic for me to act as if nothing ever bothers me. I think the "be completely humble" line of Ephesians 4:2 speaks to the part of me who fails at trying to be gentle, patient, and loving. I've been given an out when I mess up: grace. And if I humble myself enough to ask for it, I can be forgiven. While it may take a few days, weeks, months, or years for people to forgive me, God forgives me as soon as I repent. My actions are erased, and the chains of guilt and shame are removed from my soul.