Dougher of the Word

Back when I was getting up at the crack of dawn to ignite young minds to new planes of consciousness, I had a battle before me every morning. Every morning at 6:47 am, our sprinklers would go off. Now, this would not normally be a problem if one was not on a schedule. The sprinklers became my alarm clock. If I was still home when the sprinklers went off, I was behind schedule. If I had to walk through the sprinklers to get to my car, it meant that I would have to fight the lines of fellow teachers in the copy room. It also meant that my hem would get wet as those dumb sprinklers watered our sidewalk instead of the lawn. There was a pesky sprinkler in the corner that was a little haywire that could getcha in the face if you weren't careful. If you had copies to transport to the car, you would have to guard them with something water-proof (like my sweater... NOT water-proof) 

I was reading Psalm 119:71, 75 from the always-perfect Streams in the Desert... The gist was "I'm glad I was afflicted, because the Lord was able to show me His faithfulness." God is so good to remind me of how badly I need Him, in my classroom, in my home, in my grad classes, every hour. Every hour in my classroom, my students get rowdy. It is during those times I remind them of how I've trained them to say two things. Whenever they get loud, I give them my quiet signal, wait for them to settle down and ask,  "What is the only thing I should be hearing right now?" To which they respond in unison: "The scribbling of our pencils!" The sounds of scribbling commence for about 3 minutes, then, as the hum of their voices continues, I again give them the quiet signal and wait for them to quiet down. I then say to them, "Students, I am not happy, and we all know that a happy teacher makes..." and they all say, "HAPPY STUDENTS!" Then

I'm not sure if the cyber-world cares, but in two days, I will be entrusted with the education of 24 seventh graders. I remember reading Anne of Avonlea when I was young, knowing full well, that one day, I would be in Anne's position: inwardly quaking as she faced her pupils. Well, Anne, here it goes!