Tag: students

The Best Defense is Encountering Love

The Best Defense is Encountering Love

You can, in the broadest terms, call it “Catholic culture.”  However it’s described, though, it’s not something you simply argue yourself into.  Rather, it’s something you experience aesthetically as well as intellectually, with the emotions as well as the mind, through friendships and worship and experiences-beyond-words as well as through arguments and syllogisms.

“Letters to a Young Catholic” by George Weigel

Something I am intent on drilling into my students this semester is that Christianity is necessarily a life of encounter.  It is the tremendous beauty of being able to experience an authentic and lived relationship with Christ while also delving into the rich intellectual tradition of the Church.  Catholicism is chock-full of the “both/and” that makes life so simple and yet so deep.

I teach high school Theology to sophomores and seniors, making it somewhat safe to assume that I am not an advocate of an anti-intellectual, touchy-feely Christianity.  Specifically, one of my courses is apologetics, which is teaching how to defend the faith against attacks.  And there are many, many attacks launched against the Church in every age, no less in this one.  Defending the faith, though, is not merely done through well-chosen words or precisely articulated statements.  These are helpful, but much of the battle is done through actions.  If my students do not love the Church, they will be far less inclined to defend or understand Her.

I am well aware that the love I have in my heart for the Catholic Church is not the norm.  My students need to encounter more than the beauty of truth to be convinced.  I read the Church’s teachings and my heart stirs with the acknowledgement that these are profound truths.  Often when my students hear the Church’s teachings, they hear how their freedoms are being minimized or that they are being told what not to do.  However, if they love the Church, they will see that She is a mother caring for and protecting Her children, even if they do not always understand.

This is where the necessity of encounter comes in.  Catholicism, in Our Lord’s great wisdom, is a faith filled with the tangible.  We hear the words of absolution at Confession, we feel (and smell) the oils at Baptism and Confirmation that claim us as members of the Church.  The incense, like our prayers, rises up to the Heavens as we adore Our Lord in the Eucharist.  On pilgrimage, we travel to the places where the bones of the Apostles and saints of the Church rest.  Oddly, we touch our rosaries and prayer cards to their tombs, praying that we will follow the Lord’s will as radically as they did.  We light candles before altars, hoping that our intentions will be continually presented to Our Lord’s throne.  As George Weigel says throughout Letters to a Young Catholic, there is a grittiness in Catholicism.  In this book, he also says the following:

Catholicism does not rest on a pious myth, a story that floats away from us the more we try to touch it.  Here, in the scavi [excavations under St. Peter’s], we’re in touch with the apostolic foundations of the Catholic Church.  And those foundations are not in our minds.  They exist, quite literally, in reality.  Real things happened to real people who made real, life-and-death decisions–and staked their lives–not on stories or fables but on what they had come to know as the truth.

To be Catholic, George Weigel argues and I concur, means to live in reality.  And as someone who so often feels that people think my ideals mean that I don’t live in reality, that is uplifting to hear.  Being Catholic means living in the greatest love story while also fighting the greatest battle of all time, primarily because it transcends time.  As a romantic with more than a touch of stubbornness, these intertwining elements make the Church my perfect home.  It is not merely a battle of the wits, arguing and defending a supernatural institution to a world rooted in earthly affairs.  It is also, and primarily, an encounter with Love, being transformed by Love, seeking to enter into Love.  If love is not at the heart, all is meaningless and in vain.   Continue reading “The Best Defense is Encountering Love” →

The Mission of the Classroom: A Desire Renewed

The Mission of the Classroom: A Desire Renewed

I entered the evening with no expectations.  Sometimes that is the best place to be with the Lord.

My sister had an extra ticket and so I figured I could go to the event.  There would be adoration and so it couldn’t be a waste of time.  The Lord, in His mercy, blew me away.

The talk was good, but it wasn’t that.  The music was nice, but it wasn’t that.  In all simplicity, it was the Lord.  He knocked, I opened, and He came in.  There were no specific words that He spoke to me, but He filled my heart with a burning desire to be wholly His.

Over the last few years, I have grown more and more comfortable with my role as a teacher.  This year, I have found comfort in reflecting on how my responses have changed since my first year of teaching.  While grateful for the experience I now have, I realized that I was becoming more of a teacher but less of a missionary.  It is good and necessary to think of new projects or ways to present ideas to the students.  Yet I was feeling less and less of this desire to present the glorious truths to them.  Convicted of my mediocrity, I asked the Lord for renewed zeal.

At the beginning of this year, I wrote that I wanted to enter into spiritual battle for my students.  In that, I have failed miserably.  During adoration, as Jesus was processed around the auditorium, I was convicted of that failure and filled with a desire to go to war for them.  I don’t want to just teach them; I want them to encounter the living reality of Christ. Continue reading “The Mission of the Classroom: A Desire Renewed” →

Our Lady of Lourdes

Our Lady of Lourdes

“What color was the towel?”
“How big was the towel?”
“How was it wrapped around you?”
“What color were the walls?”
“Was the bath made of marble?”
“Were the walls taupe?”
“How large was the bath?”

I knew what they were doing.  

Sometimes students love to get their teachers off track and launch into tangents.  It works even better if the teacher enjoys talking about particular topics.  I recall a specific teacher in middle school who would tell the same stories over and over again.  And we loved to let him because it meant that we wouldn’t move on with other work.  As a teacher, I now understand a little more how one could repeat the same story to the same class and not remember.  If I, a “veteran” teacher of five years, struggle to remember if I told this story this year or to this class period, then a teacher of 30-40 years should definitely have a greater struggle.

We were talking about private revelation.  It is difficult for me to remember how much I knew at their age, but I was surprised at what they did not know.  I mentioned Lourdes, Fatima, scapulars, and Miraculous medals, receiving blank stares for many of them.  So I started to talk a bit more in-depth about Lourdes.  Once they found out that I had actually been there and been in the baths (“Can just anyone go?”), they had many questions.  Some were deeper (“Did you go to receive healing of body, mind, or spirit?”) and others were more surface level (“Do they reuse towels?”).  And when genuine interest (even if merely for the sake of not doing more classwork) is shown in the area of faith, I find it hard to not answer questions. Continue reading “Our Lady of Lourdes” →

I’m Glad I Didn’t Write Her Off

I’m Glad I Didn’t Write Her Off

It was day two of teaching.  In the midst of a simple roll call, I said her name and she rolled her eyes.

A flash of anger shot through me.

Who does she think she is?  Can she hate me already?

I moved on with class and I reminded myself to love her.  Because, really, that is all I could do.  While I could have made a big deal about it, I have long since learned to choose my battles.  And while I will never say that I always pick the right battles, I have learned to not make all of them battles. Continue reading “I’m Glad I Didn’t Write Her Off” →

More Than Rules

More Than Rules

“Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction.”  (Pope Benedict XVI, Deus Caritas Est)

Sometimes I struggle to make relevant connections for my students.  Other times, the perfect words come to mind and I am pleased that, despite myself, I was able to connect it to their lives.

I was reviewing the above quote from Pope Benedict XVI’s encyclical Deus Caritas Est.  Ethics, I told them, are a part of Christian living but they are not the reason we are Christian.  Intellectual Theology, while beautiful and true, is also not the primary focus of Christianity.  Instead, we are Christian because we have encountered the Living God.  I told them that if Christianity was merely a system of rules, then I could not do what I do.  I would never be able to remain passionate, day in and day out, if I simply presented an intricate system of rules.  It would not bring such joy to my life to belong to an institution situated around rules.

In a similar way, I told them that our relationship with God should in some ways mirror our relationships with friends.

“What are some of the ‘unwritten rules’ of friendship?” I asked them.
“Listen to the other person.”
“Don’t tell their secrets.”
“Be nice to them.” Continue reading “More Than Rules” →

The Things They Say

The Things They Say

“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen,” a student openly told another after I showed them (what I thought was) a funny video clip.

And we’re back.  School was in its opening week and I already felt as though I was in the thick of it.  Of course, my pride felt a little wounded at such a declaration.  I was quick to think, “That is rather unlikely.  You’ve probably seen far stupider things.”  Another part of me wanted to put her in her place immediately. Continue reading “The Things They Say” →

To Affirm is to be Vulnerable

To Affirm is to be Vulnerable

I dislike feeling vulnerable.  This doesn’t mean that I never share my thoughts or feelings with others because I definitely do.  Rather, I need it to be in a safe place.  My students, generally speaking, are not that safe place.  Some classes have been exceptionally open and I’ve found it easy to share my heart with them, but that is not the norm.

As far as I can remember, those classes have always been my sophomore classes.  Sometimes I force myself to be vulnerable with them, though.  It is difficult because: they are teenagers, they don’t understand the significance, and I feel like it places me in the position to get hurt.  And I, human that I am, don’t like to be hurt. Continue reading “To Affirm is to be Vulnerable” →

Maybe Mercy

Maybe Mercy

What I really wanted to do was call the teenage girl out on her attitude.  Yes, I should have prepared better for class by having the questions printed out for them instead of having them write them out.  At this point, however, it was the end of the day and I didn’t feel like trying to convince my students why school required them to do schoolwork.

Instead of writing down the questions, this young lady was resistant.  Her face was one of annoyance that she would have to write down questions.

“Do we have to write these all down?”
“Well, I think you would want to.  You need to answer these questions over the movie we are going to watch and you won’t be able to see the questions when I pull the projector down.”
“So we don’t have to?”
“I guess not if you think you can remember all the questions and answers.”
“Cool.  I’m not doing it then.”

I was frustrated that something so little was seen as such a heavy burden.  She wasn’t the only one who was put out by this task.  As the students wrote down the questions, they would take time to heave a sigh or breathe deeply.

“I hear your sighs.”  I told them as I waited for them to finish copying the questions.

So while others were not enjoying the task at hand, this girl was the most vocal about it.  She has her days.  Some days she is bubbly and excited, calling me “girl” and sharing different stories.  Other days she has a bit of an attitude and looks unimpressed by nearly everything.  I was trying to decide how to handle her responses to me in the classroom.  Should I take her aside?  Should I give her a look?  How should I respond?

In the midst of my frustration, I remembered a personal detail she had written on an assignment at the beginning of the semester.  She wrote briefly of a family life difficulty and in that moment of her less-than-desired responses, I thought of it.  And I prayed for her.  I ask Our Lady to give me the patience to deal with this young girl who was struggling with things that I didn’t know or understand.  In a moment of clarity, I recognized her responses as being, at least in part, the fruit of inner turmoil and pain.  She was hurting and something she felt she had control over was complaining about a simple task in class.

I wish I could say that I have applied this merciful attitude toward all of my students all of the time.  I haven’t.  But it did make me stop and consider: why don’t I extend to those I meet the same mercy I would desire others to extend to me?  Of course, we all need to grow in not letting our emotions overrun us.  We strive to not take frustrations out on people who are completely removed from the situation.  But I know I have been unkind many times and what has brought me out of that rut before has been people looking beyond my ugly words or actions and treating me with kindness.

This brief interaction made me want to extend mercy, without being a doormat for my students.  Not everything in their responses is about my teaching or what they think of me.  Perhaps they just had a difficult test or a fight the night before with their parents.  It doesn’t make what they have said or done acceptable, but it can make them more real to me, people with hearts and problems, struggling to navigate the difficulties of life.

It was once again impressed upon me the need to pray.  I do not enter the classroom alone to fight in a fierce battle against teenagers.  Those would be rather bleak prospects.  Rather I go to them (hopefully) as a missionary and I go armed with the best of warriors–the universal Church.  Particularly during this year of mercy, wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could encounter my students and everyone I meet as a missionary of mercy?  How beautiful would it be if through an encounter with us, people could know that attribute of God in a deeper, fuller way?

Running for Them

This might be premature, but I find it interesting that what has motivated me to take up running is teaching.  More specifically, my students.  “Take up running” means I’ve gone for four runs in the past week.  It could all fall apart very soon (definitely has happened before), but I think this might be here to stay for the time being.

A couple weeks ago I came to a realization: I don’t sacrifice for my students.  They come up in my prayers and I hope the best for them.  However, I don’t often find myself tangibly offering things up for them, other than allowing them to keep living after a particularly trying class period.

I’ve realized this lack of sacrifice before.  This time I was compelled to do something about it.  Running is something good for me and good for them.  I find myself thinking about them as I run and offering up my labored breaths for them.

Yet the more I run (think: slow jog), the more reasons I find to keep doing it.  I’ve run twice through my neighborhood and while I don’t like it as much, I think I might keep it up because it gives a new perspective and new prayer intentions.  I run past a home and I hear the muffled sound of a man and woman arguing.  Or I run around a bend and see two kids in front of a house, a larger pre-teen girl slapping the head of a smaller pre-teen boy.  The girl looks belligerent and the boy has his defenses up but is angry.  She glances at me and there are no more blows while I run by the house.

I find myself praying for peace as I meander the streets of my neighborhood.  This little heart inexplicably finds itself aching for situations I will never know about, fights I will never see, hurtful words I will never hear, but that are happening in these places so near to me.  I prayed for peace to flow through these houses.  For homes to be places of peace, not places where we take up arms against our flesh and blood.  For parents to show their children how to love.  For people to experience the love and peace of Christ that I have experienced.

It is not that much, and I should in all rights probably be doing far more.  But for now, I am running for my students.  For their addictions, depression, relationships, struggles, and hearts.  When I nearly convince myself to not go for a planned run, I remember them and realize I’m not doing it for me, but for them.  And it makes me run.