Let Them Eat Cake

When I showed up to my C14 class yesterday, which coincidentally takes place at 8:30 a.m., one of my students had about nine individually wrapped pieces of cakes resting on her lap and desk.

Many of my students bring pastries and such from local bakeries to munch on before and after their English class, but never had I seen one student, and a particularly small one for that matter, have so much food at once.

"Jane, what are you doing," I asked, unable to conceal my amusement. 

"It's my birthday today. I'm celebrating," Jane responded. And this I thought the most perfect Chinese response to such a quirky action. I allowed Jane to eat her snacks during class that day, and I was surprised to watch her successfully consume all nine pieces of cake. 

I always appreciate these funny moments with my students, especially considering I wasn't at all looking forward to going to work this weekend. In fact, I was rather dreading it. 

One of my C3 classes has been giving me lots of trouble. They're terribly behaved, and while I love them a lot, I'm still learning how to enforce discipline to a group of little kids who speak less English than I speak Mandarin. Apparently, the parents of a group of these students are notorious for complaining each term that their  children aren't learning enough and that the teachers aren't doing their job. Of course, the school is privy to the fact that the problem rests more with the parents and students than with the teachers, but it's still hard to teach an already difficult class when you have bunch of condescending parents watching you from the little window on the door, their noses pressed against the glass like they're just waiting for you to fail. 

And I have another class, my C6 class, that makes me want to pull out my hair. While they're good kids, they are so lazy. Despite my best efforts, I don't know how to get through to them. My friend Licson and I teach this class together; we have done everything we know to help these students, and yet it feels as though we are speaking to deaf ears. I get frustrated and sad that I don't know how to reach these kids, and it's hard to continually show up to teach a class when I feel my students are making no progress. 

Due to my less than enthusiastic attitude, I felt really convicted to get on my knees and spend time praying for my students before the long weekend began. Honestly, I don't think I do this as often as I should. I asked the Lord to fill me with a joy for my work and a love for my students because I felt a need for some super-natural assistance. 

I'm intrigued by the way God chooses to answer our prayers. Sometimes, like my C6 students, he doesn't seem to hear or understand my requests, despite the time and energy I invest telling him how I think he should respond. Other times he is so responsive he is almost audible. Yet I have found that most often in my life he allows me to struggle for a while, to hobble around while he ever so kindly gives me small doses of relief and perspective to endure my frustrations. 

You know, I still had a bunch of angry parents huddled around that tiny window this weekend, and my C6 kids were more oblivious than ever. 

But Jane brought nine pieces of cake to class, and who can't find joy in something so hilarious. 

I've been teaching present continuous form to my C2 students, and we've had so much fun. I instructed my students, they're little guys, to ask me a question using the present continuous. They took turns asking, 

"Do you like dancING, Miss Lauren?"

"Do you like runnING, Miss Lauren?" 

"Do you like swimmING, Miss Lauren?" 

It was Winston's turn to ask; he sat up straight in his chair, and his eyes widened.

"Do you like ME, Miss Lauren?"

Despite the fact that he completely missed the concept, I felt everything inside me melt for a moment.

"Of course I like you, Winston," I answered. And I believed it.

I don't just like Winston. I love him. And I love Jane for bringing nine pieces of cake to school with her. And I love getting to hug each of my C6 students as they leave class, regardless of how frustrated they have made me in the last two hours. 

I'm learning more with each week that passes that these students are worth spending time on my knees for, they're worth the grief they sometimes cause me, and they're worth moving half way around the world to teach.  These children were created to be loved, and I in some small way get to take part in this amazing reality.