In praise of teachers

I was worship leader at church today. At Gouldie's request, who was teaching Sunday School and missed it, I'm posting my Prayers of the People (PotP) essay here.

On the first day of summer vacation, I got a two word email from SO.

"Help me!"

Less than six hours with the boys, and he was already going crazy. It made me appreciate their teachers that much more. There's a special place in heaven for those who love, guide, and inspire our children.

A teacher changed my life.

Sixth grade, 1974. I was no different from most 11-year-olds. I'd learned it was best to stay silent, not make waves, limit contact, don't make trouble, get my work done. I escaped the notice of most, save for a hefty, glowering Laura Pacheco, who derived a special joy out of jumping on my back and knocking me to the ground.

My teacher, Mrs. Roessler, saved me: curls held away from her temples by a pair of bobby pins, a broad smile, contagious laugh. She moved me to the front of the room near her desk, giving me special responsibilities and privileges. She praised me in front of the whole class, encouraged my love of reading, noticed me.

What did she see in me? Why did she pick me out from a classroom of similar children? Perhaps I was only one of many she mentored. What would have changed in my life if she hadn't noticed me -- a shy, buck-toothed kid -- where would I be now if she hadn't acted out of love to make me feel special?

I left Mrs. Roessler's class with a newly discovered sense of self-esteem. Though I couldn't describe it then, I was empowered. Up to that point in time, I'd always thought of myself as a victim, someone who had to suffer. I deserved to be bullied. In the words of my fundamentalist Christian upbringing, I suffered because I was born into sin, and suffering brought me closer to Christ. I didn't realize how soul crushing that particular philosphy was.

When I was encouraged, nurtured, loved by another person, I was freed from a crippling sense of worthlessness. Mrs. Roessler removed a barried. She pushed me down a road I didn't even know existed.

One of the most deeply spiritual moments I've ever had came not in a church but in a darkened theater. It was at a performance of Les Miserables. Jan Valjean, a prisoner on the run, is saved from another incarceration by a priest. Although Valjean has stolen silver candlesticks from the monastery, the priest claims the items were a gift, and the police leave without a prisoner.

"I have bought your soul for God," says the priest. Valjean spends the rest of his life trying to make his life worthy of such a purchase.

At the end of the performance, Valjean lies dying. He has made mistakes, such as inadvertently causing the death of Fantine. He has also made atonements, as in raising Fantine's young daughter. Had he done enought? Was he now worthy of the priest's intervention?

"To love another person is to see the face of God," sings the spirit of Fantine. I have never felt a truth so deeply.

Like Valjean, I have spent my life trying to live up to the potential Mrs. Roessler saw in me. And I want to pass that love along, to catch a glimpse of God's face.

And He'll be smiling.