Teaching is an interesting profession. What I do is primarily judged by test and quiz scores and the single letter marked down on the transcripts of my students. People come in to my classroom to observe me and see how well I teach. But the interesting thing is that the heart of what I do, the depth of the relationship I have with some of my classes is witnessed only by myself. When that observer enters the room, the mood changes and it is no longer the relationship that has been steadily forming. That single letter inscribed on a transcript is not observant of the laughter that has been shared, the hours spent together, the prayers uttered to God on their behalf. I do not teach perfectly and I do not know all of my students very well. Yet there is this delightful feeling when I remember laughing with my classes even if I cannot remember what we were laughing about. Maybe they forget far quicker than I do but I am still repeatedly amazed about what people refer to as my “job”. I get to see over one hundred students every day and try to give to them part of the love that I have for the Lord. And every day I mess up, yet every day is a new day to try again. Nobody but the Lord can really see what I do or judge how effectively I do it. Because I like to think that I am revealing to them something that I cannot test them on. I prefer to think that the joy we share (at times) in the classroom is indicative of something deeper. And I pray that someday I will be blessed enough to see the fruit of my labors, even if that day only comes in Heaven.