Years ago, when my children were little, we lived in a heavily wooded area at the top of a very long, winding gravel driveway. Although my children rode a bus to school every day, the trip down and all the way back up the driveway made for a fair bit of exercise.

            When my son was in kindergarten, we would wait together for the bus in the morning, and I would meet him at the bottom of the driveway in the afternoon. Then after a few months of getting used to the routine, he started to run up the driveway by himself at the end of the school day as I watched from the back steps. 

            One day, I heard him excitedly calling me as he raced up the driveway in his blue corduroy Oshkosh overalls. Just as I opened the door and stepped out to meet him, he tripped on the gravel and fell, skinning his knee and ripping a hole in his pants. As five-year-olds do, he wailed far louder than the drama required, and as I tried to conduct triage, I noticed that he was tightly clenching his little fist. I asked if he hurt his hand as well as his knee, and through his tears and sobs, he opened his clenched fist to reveal a small pile of tiny Styrofoam beads. He said, through his sobs and tears, “The beanbag chair at school had a hole in it, and I brought these beads for you cuz I know you like to do crafts!” My son was so intent on holding on to what was so important to him that he kept his priorities locked in his hand, despite the pain, fear, anger, and gallons of tears.

            How many of us have let go of our dreams when we experienced pain and frustration? How many of us have thought that our dreams were not worth the trouble when met with a stumble, a fall, opposition, or had no one to pick us up and help assess the damage? 

            No one who has achieved great things or realized a dream has done so without falling many, many times. Everyone carries the potential for achievement, but too many times, unforeseen mishaps fool us into thinking, “It’s just not meant to be.” Actually, the struggles make the achievement that much better and stronger! The struggles just mean that there were barriers in the way, and someone, which would be YOU, had to knock them down. That’s what make them profound achievements. Knowing that there was a physical and emotional cost to your achievement makes it that much more valuable. If the dreams are important, if that goal is a priority, if the passion is what motivates you to get up in the morning and stay focused with purpose, then your contribution to the world and those around you is established, and you will be an inspiration. You will leave a legacy that will inspire, encourage, and make the world a better place.

            So, keep your fists tightly clenched around your dreams. Don’t let stumbles, falls, skinned knees, and many tears make you let go.

            On my dresser, I have a tiny box which holds a reminder for me. I pick up the box when I get discouraged and weary. It’s a gold box with a blue mosaic lid. When I open the lid, I see a little pile of Styrofoam beads that were given to me over thirty years ago.

            Some dreams do take longer to achieve than others, so it can be so easy to lose your momentum. However, every so often, look inside your own little box, the one you keep in your heart, and you will see and be reminded that the dreams are still in there. Keep them tightly in your own fist, nurture them, make them grow, don’t let them disappear, and

Dance on.

            It was picture day at school! Little boys with normally disheveled hair had it neatly slicked down. Little girls with unruly, fly-away hair suddenly had ponytails and braids that took the better part of their early morning at home to bribe into completion. They all arrived at school looking wonderfully…uncomfortable.

            As each child took a turn in front of the camera, he stiffly held a wooden airplane he had never seen before, she fiddled with the folds or puffs on her fancy dress. The photographer called out, “Hold still now and smile! Look like a superhero! Look like a princess!” Then a very odd transformation took place. What used to be little faces of pure joy and innocent giggles became intense masks of bared teeth, glassy eyed stares, and the vacant looks of marionettes that had been abandoned by the puppeteer. The kids were implored to relax and be themselves, but they seemed to have no idea of who they really were. Their familiar little world was now on display; they had been invaded.

            About an hour later, they were all playing outside, laughing, screaming, and racing around the mulch covered playground. Braids and ponytails were swinging around in delightful tangles, curly hair was fluffing out of tight elastic bands, pant legs were getting muddy, and the pink fluffy dresses were no longer pink nor fluffy. But the smiles were bigger and the laughs were loud. Even their eyes were laughing!

            In front of the camera, these kids were imitating what they have seen all of us do when we know others are watching. We try to be “better”, whatever that is. We fake a smile, we change our appearance, and we hope a new and improved version of ourselves will be remembered for posterity. I do it all the time. When someone takes a picture of me, I call out, “I get editing rights!” I certainly don’t want whatever the camera catches to be out there for all the world to see! It’s got to be a “good” picture. I guess I want it to look like what I wish it would look like.

            What I really wish is that we could see ourselves the way others see us. I’m all for personal growth, but so many of us are into redecorating who we are just to get the approval of the general public, most of whom we don’t even know.

            What if we prioritized our lives the way a child does? The top of the list would have us feeling the wind blow through our hair as we swing as high as we can on the swing set, even though it’s picture day. We would blow bubbles through a straw in our chocolate milk, even though it splatters on our white lace dress. We would tear through the yard in our good pants playing shark, or taunting each other with cicadas as we get grass stains on our best clothes.

            The picture our parents keep in their hearts and the memories they love to recall are not the stiffly posed photographs with a forced smile. They’re the pictures in their minds of the chocolate on the white dress, chewing gum stuck in the hair, grass stains on the knees of the Sunday suit, and the endless giggles and brilliant smiles – that’s what everyone wants to remember, and so they do.

            God knows the real us, Hs children. He doesn’t want us to force the fake smiles, and He is well aware when we’re trying to be something we’re not. Psalm 44:21b says that God knows the secrets of the heart. He loves the real us, not the slicked hair and perfect, clean persona with perfectly ironed clothes. He wants us to enjoy the wind in our faces and to laugh with each other as we tumble around His beautiful creation. He knows the very real “us” more than we realize, and He wants us to discover the real Him. Camera faces mean nothing. Personal backgrounds, how we were raised, myths, misconceptions, wishful thinking – none of that is who we are or who He is. Our families and friends don’t love us because of the way we pose for a picture. Our friends may not even have any photos of us, but I’m sure there are plenty of memory pictures. There is a time to flash a beautiful smile and a choreographed pose that reflects our personality, but that’s not the extent of who we are. That’s just a face that changes year to year (gulp!), but it’s not who we are. Heart pictures last forever.

            Time for a family portrait. Our Father is in the middle with all of us kids gathered ‘round – bunny ears behind someone’s head, someone else sticking out their tongue, someone else is pulling the pigtails of someone else who is grimacing in anger, someone else is blinking. We are all vulnerable. There’s crying, anger, joy, disappointment, elation, success, failure; we’re all here. The real gang’s all here.

            Dance on

            I have a room in my home that I have turned into a cozy hideaway/writing room/office.  Although it’s multi-functional, it’s painted and decorated in soft pastels with family pictures and framed memories. The room envelopes me with comfort and peace the second I open the door and fold myself into my writing chair. I don’t even mind doing the bills at my tiny desk and computer, because they’re tucked into a small alcove and surrounded by photos of people (and cats) whom I love. I had so much fun decorating it and anticipating what it would look and feel like when I could finally settle in. Even my mousepad is flowered and matches the décor! I actually call it my bomb shelter, because I feel protected and safe from all outside stress and “scary things” in life. The room was originally my youngest child’s room, and as each of my three children grew up and moved out, the remaining ones moved up to the bigger rooms. That small room became my first sewing room, then a guest room, then a depository for hiding Christmas presents and miscellaneous stuff that didn’t really belong anywhere; you know, the junk room. There are no poignant memories clinging to that room, so it makes me feel safe.

            I was sitting in that comfy writing chair, and my cat decided to jump into my lap. Of course, she first had to make the spot suitable, to make it “her.” So she began to knead my legs and turn around and around to get comfortable. She was so earnest and determined to prepare her spot that she began to happily purr louder and louder as she went about her work. Once she was satisfied, she plopped down and went to sleep. She seemed as happy in her preparations as she was with the outcome.

            Are we always happy with the entire process of working towards a goal? Do we consider it all joy, or just the finished product? Sometimes, the daunting preparations can make us quit before our dreams are realized. Perhaps we think the dream is not worth the struggle. The funny thing is, often the struggle produces an outcome that’s very different than the one we were originally working towards – and better. There is a scripture that says, “Rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope…” (Romans 5:3-5).

            What?! Rejoice?! Seriously?? Yes, seriously. Although our original outcome might not be the one we originally wanted, we gain so many things in the process. Endurance, perseverance, character, hope – who does not want any of those things?

            Anticipation is what keeps us trying again and again, but we can’t maintain that without developing endurance, persistence, and the most important one –hope. Although this may be a thin analogy, every time my cat scratched me in her preparations, I pushed her off my lap. That happened about four times, but she kept jumping right back on, continuing to purr throughout the entire process. She was enjoying herself even though her efforts were being foiled so many times. When she finally made it, she curled up and immediately went to sleep. Of course, the phone rang a few minutes later, scared her to death, and she jumped off and ran away (I said it was a very thin analogy). However, she continues to go through this very same ritual every day, undaunted.

            Sometimes we end up with what we want, sometimes we don’t, but we always end up with what we really need. We can appreciate and accept the preparation, even if the struggle is so very far from joyful and even painful, because we will always have gained something when we come out on the other side. Then we will be ready to tackle our next dream chase, we will have learned more, and we may get what we were planning in addition to what we got before. Maybe we will even be able to purr with contentment as we prepare.

Dance on

            In my home I have many figurines, sculptures, and paintings of swans. Their graceful serenity has always captivated me – watching them slowly glide around a lake while, beneath the water’s surface, their little feet are furiously propelling them along.

            Most swan figurines and sculptures are in a position of stillness. Their wings are tucked protectively against their bodies, and their long necks are poised in that “half of a heart” position. Just their silhouette has an unmatched kinetic beauty of its own.

            My favorite swan sculpture that I have is one that has her wings unfurled, every feather opened up at attention, ready to ascend out of the water and into the air with a regal elegance that signals to all that she has somewhere exciting to go. 

            I think I like this piece so much because, with all the apparent serenity of floating calmly around on the water, this swan is not satisfied to stay stuck in the same place, staring at the same view. Calmness and serenity are only appreciated when they’re a respite between excitement and activity. Marathon runners train for months and run for many hours, and when that finish line comes into view they are more than eager to enter into a time of relaxation (and food!) at the end. But soon enough they start training for the next one! They aspire to run; they don’t aspire to rest. They need to rest so they can continue their dreams, but resting is not their lifelong mission!

            I’m laughing at this as I write, because I know that some people may read it and think, “She’s nuts; give me a hammock in the sun, and I’m set for life!” Sorry, but I don’t believe it. Resting from a frantic life? Yes. From severe stress? Absolutely. From serious events and emotional trauma? Of course. But to have no vision, no sense of purpose, no motivation — that will not sustain anyone, nor is it even healthy. We are all created to fulfill a purpose that is meant to make use of our talents, gifts, and the desires of our heart. If someone seeks only a passionless existence, perhaps that person has not been encouraged and made to feel significant. We all need that love and acknowledgement to have the motivation and the strength to create. Whether the people who surround us demonstrate that care or not, God is the ever-present embodiment of that love and affirmation; He created us and those gifts to be used in the first place.

            As my beautiful swan sculpture prepares for flight, she is looking neither to the right nor the left for approval, and she’s not looking longingly down at what she’s leaving behind. She is just putting those beautiful wings to use for what they were created for, and she is about to burst into the sky.

            We need to rest for a while and use the time to recuperate, recharge, and seek out our next vision and purpose. We can look for our next reason to unfurl our wings and take flight.

            Dance on.

            I love color. I love to adorn inanimate objects, like furniture or windows. But so much more than that, I love to enhance people’s attributes so that they see the beauty of what they have inside, as well as letting the world see them. I also like wearing the jewelry that my husband gave me that matches whatever I’m wearing or feeling. All this to say, I see the world as one big costume opportunity.

            I’ve been making costumes my whole life. When I was little, my dad said that I was always wearing some sort of “shmatta” ( old raggy fabric, usually used in reference to a piece of clothing), depending on my mood or imagination of the day. I learned early on that color is a gift that is not just for us to see and enjoy, but we are to use that color to express anything we want to make others see…and feel.

            I started to make dance costumes when I had my own ballet company and then later when I had my own studio. At first, I made my own costumes because it was so much less expensive than buying them. Then I ramped up my costume production because I saw that I could make the fabric dance along with whatever movement the dancer was doing. The color and flow could complement and help express the emotion. Not only that, but the costumes could be created to enhance the gifts the dancer has, and camouflage the ones we don’t want!

            Costumes are not meant to cover up; they’re meant to bring out what we want the world to know. They don’t have to be beautiful, they just have to be right and to complete our story.

            Have you guessed by now that I’m not talking about actual performance costumes?  The whole world dresses up for what and who we want people to see.

            When I choreographed Handel’s “The Messiah”, I included a short section called the Pastoral Symphony that required the talents of some children who were adept at acting and musicality as well as dancing. Rehearsals would go well, but it was difficult for them to deeply get into the meaning of what they were doing as well as sustain their focus on the facial expressions, body language, what they were trying to say through the choreography, and their technique! That was a lot for kids to absorb. Then we would have the first costume fitting and run-through in the costumes. In that one rehearsal, it all came together for them. While their bodies told the story through their dancing, their faces were earnestly lit up with understanding of what they were saying. They were learning how to make the fabric move for them from that very first costume fitting.

We don’t have to be dancers to learn how important our inner gifts are. We all have something to say and to give, but too many of us hang back. Perhaps we feel too insignificant out on our own. That’s when we grab the metaphorical muumuu, so we can cover up and feel presentable. The muumuu covers everything, sometimes the most important gifts. It gives a false sense of security, so that rather than fearing that others will be dismissive, we can dismiss ourselves. The muumuu is not a flattering nor enhancing costume; it’s the curtain that covers up the artistic creation behind it that’s waiting to be seen. But a true costume (still being metaphorical) will help propel who you really are and what you want, or need, to say.

I like watching TV shows that are about renovating and redecorating older homes. The builders and designers work together to create something that’s not only functional and fulfills great potential, but even the paint colors and fabrics are significant in making the home unique, beautiful, and creating a feeling of comfort and security.

That’s what we want to do within ourselves – to be a person who is not only crucial to those around us in how we minister to them, but to be unique and a place of warmth, comfort, security, and safety. And of course, it never hurts to

Dance on

            I hate snakes. I also detest lizards and all other creepy crawly things. Creepy crawly things are simply snakes with legs so that they can creep and crawl. The other day, I was out for a long walk with an adorable seven-year-old boy. As we walked around the block, we got to my house and punched in the key pad number of the garage door opener. He wanted to see my new car, as all little boys do. As the door slowly went up, excitement changed to horror – well the horror was on my part. We both saw a chunky lizard (my trusty companion said it was a gecko) clinging to the bottom of the garage door with its little toes and whipping tail. My little buddy said, “Cool!” I screamed and, seriously, STOOD BEHIND A LITTLE SEVEN-YEAR-OLD BOY! While I was trying to not run away, he asked hopefully, “Does he live in your garage?!”

            Well, at this point I had a few questions of my own. Just how long has that thing actually been here without my knowing anything about it? Why have I never seen him before? What has he been eating in my garage, so close to the inside of my house? Does he have a family that has also moved in? Why am I using a little boy as a shield?!

            In this culture of everyone desperately trying to get what they feel they deserve, people seem to be quite proud of themselves if their lives are flowing smoothly at the moment; they obviously have it all figured out and are in total control with all the right answers. Everyone else is wrong, and they themselves have “taken the high road,” whatever that means. 

            It is very difficult for most of us to come to terms with the fact that we really don’t have ultimate control of our lives, or anyone else’s. Of course, we have to use wisdom in our decisions and not throw caution to the wind, but care and safety shouldn’t become a false sense of security. The fact is, the more we think we know, the less we really know. We have no idea of all the near-misses and “almosts” we avoid on a daily basis. Those of us who have raised children are well aware of how many times a day we’ve had to quickly re-direct a tumbling toddler’s head away from the table corner, or quickly grab a hot iron out of reach at the last minute, or race to the pediatrician with an apparent new food allergy. As a teenager, my daughter was driving her car across a four-way stop intersection just as another car sped straight through. To this day, I have no idea how that car missed her, but thankfully it did, and she unknowingly and blithely drove the rest of the way home.

            We all have near misses. We are given wonderful choices that we can make as far as careers, where to live, etc. However, the people we meet, unexpected events, the paths we end up on, opportunities, tragedies, and all those details that come together are out of our tenuous control and in God’s perfect control. We may have choices, but the final decisions with all the details are really up to Him and the unique plans He has for our lives. We have absolutely no idea how many dangerous things we have escaped without ever having any knowledge of them. It’s easy to think that all the successful and good things that happen are strictly a result of our own ability; we are unaware that even our ability is a gift from God, as well as our being rescued from unknown peril!

            So how many times has my little lizard been eyeing me when I never saw him? I obviously haven’t been in any real danger, other than heart failure, but I’ve also never had any idea that he was there. Maybe he has been eating, or at least repelling, even more terrifying and dangerous creatures, thereby actually keeping me safe (highly unlikely). Or, maybe he showed up just that once and has never been back. Maybe my scream convinced him he had much better places to be. Whatever the situation really is, I will never know. My sweet little seven-year-old friend had the perfect perspective; “Cool! Does he live here? Oh well, let’s keep walking -wait do you have any candy first?”

            Dance on.

            On the last day of school, the mom of one of the kids in my preschool class told me that she knew her five-year-old son was loved and felt very secure at school, because he smelled like my perfume when he came home every day. She had evidence of where he had been and who had been around him. It made me wonder what else lingers on us that reveals where we have been. What influences from other people have become a part of who we are? What have we left with other people?

            We all know that small children are like little sponges in what they remember and what they hear and repeat. At the beginning of the school year in September, there were two little four-year-olds in the class who did not speak English. By the time school was done at the end of May, they had not only learned to speak English fluently, but they managed to pick up some slang and a few mannerisms along the way. They obviously spent a lot of time around teachers and friends in their class.

            Once kids become adults, learning foreign languages (or anything else!) may not come as easily and naturally. Adults choose what they want to learn and retain. Parents of teenagers are all too aware of what dangerous influences their kids can fall prey to and who they choose to imitate. Parents of young children feel responsible when their child throws a tantrum in public, and then they’re thrilled and breathe a huge sigh of relief when another mom says, “Your child is SO polite and well behaved at our house!” That made me think…there are some things that we absorb without even trying or realizing it, like an attitude, or even our demeanor.

            So, who are you reflecting and what are you picking up in your everyday life? Whose attitudes, habits, or even personality are you beginning to resemble and pass on to others? Family members don’t just look like each other. Mannerisms and habits often reveal familial connections, accents in speech give away where someone grew up—so many things can show how people are linked to each other.

            There are also clues that show what someone’s priorities are. There are attributes and qualities that show where someone derives their strength and what and who has formed their character. We try to say the “right” things in a job interview or when meeting someone new for the first time—things we think the other person wants to hear. But once we spend a fair amount of time with someone, the true priorities and personality can’t stay hidden forever. People will eventually discover the real person underneath, especially when there’s a conflict. People can easily tell what a person’s primary influence is by the way they handle a problem. 

            If we need to change our behavior when we’re around people we want to impress, maybe it’s time to evaluate what truly matters to us when we’re alone. Maybe we don’t want to impress anyone; maybe we don’t want people to see who we really are. Maybe our priorities are giving us away. That can be good, that can be bad!

            For eons, parents of adolescents have been concerned with who their teens are hanging out with, and which friends will be a good or bad influence. Down to the middle school or even younger, the kids want to be known by who they associate with. They want to be in the “cool” crowd. The Bible says, “Don’t befriend angry people or associate with hot tempered people, or you will learn to be like them.” (Proverbs 22:24-25), and “Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm” (Proverbs 13:20). 

            I guess it boils down to a couple of questions: Can people tell who we spend our time with based on the “fragrance” that lingers on us? Are we passing down an influential “fragrance” of integrity, kindness, and strong character to someone else in a way that we want perpetuated?

            Dance on.

I was stuck for ten minutes at a railroad crossing, waiting for an extremely long freight train to wind its way through. I kept inching my car forward and craning my neck to see if the end of the train was at least somewhere within sight. I figured if I could see how far away the end was, I could prepare myself for however long the wait would be. Then I could make myself pleasantly busy on my phone as I waited oh so patiently.

            But I couldn’t see the end! OOOHH NOOO! I had to just…SIT THERE! I was just left to wonder, stress out, and to incessantly check my watch. How can anyone be expected to be patient when they don’t have all the answers, or at least have a clue as to how long the wait will be?

            Isn’t accepting an unforeseen end to a long wait the definition of patience? Or even more difficult, accepting the fact that there may be no end?

            True patience is dependent on a strong faith and belief that the present circumstance is temporary, and that a better time is ahead. However, we try to force an element of our own control, even when control is totally out of our hands. It makes us feel better…we think. The reality is, if we can’t see the end, we can never truly be in control. For some, that reality may be terrifying. God always knows where the end is, but He seldom gives out that information before we need it. If we don’t have it, we don’t need it.

            Patience. Not nervous waiting. Patience. There is a better plan ahead. Patience. We are free to let our paranoid guard down. Patience. We can rest without heart palpitations. Patience. There truly is Someone who is always in total control, no matter how long the wait.

            When we listen carefully (without those heart palpitations), we can discover that there is a purpose for us even in the waiting. Everyone’s purpose is unique, because we are all waiting for something different. But patience is the common element for fulfilling that purpose; if we already know exactly how long we have to wait, we won’t really learn what we need to, and that is indeed the wasted time that we’re trying to avoid.

            Sometimes we may put a time limit on our patience – “I’ll be patient, but only for so long!” I actually heard someone say, “I was patient once, and it didn’t work!” Oh wait, maybe that was me. Patience isn’t “done” once. It takes as long as it takes. Every time I try to predict the end of the patience train, I blow it. I have turned my car around after getting fed up with the wait, but then I encounter the beginning of the very same train on a different road and have to wait even longer. I have turned off my car engine while waiting and seething, only to have trouble getting the engine to turn over and making everyone behind me wait even longer. If I had not been so impatient, I would have seen what God had for me in the wait, not just after the caboose passed. I can try taking matters into my own hands, and I may end up getting what I am supposed to, but I end up making it so much more complicated, and it takes so much longer. I do it to myself, and then blame it on something or someone else.

Sometimes the “waiting train” in our lives takes longer because of something blocking the track. Sometimes it’s just a very long train. But the caboose finally does cross the track, and we can continue on to the job and promise ahead.

            So, relax when you don’t always see the end of the train. We may need patience, but we also need time to prepare for the wild and often bumpy ride on the other side of the track. There will be lots of train crossings; sometimes we’ll make it across without being stopped, sometimes we will need to rework our timing and wait for the train to pass. But never try to outrun the train; the warning lights and bells remind us that we need to take pause and wait. The caboose will signal the end of the wait, and then we can

            Dance on.

            I just completed my last day of the school year for the preschool where I work. I am exhausted, my back hurts, my make-up is smudged, my hair looks like I’ve been standing on my head all day, I have paint on my fingers and shirt, and I have a boo-boo – sorry, I mean I have a scrape – on my elbow. After being in the trenches for five hours today, I joyously display my highest award to date: a Bandaid in camo print. My choices were either Paw Patrol or the camo, but the last Paw Patrol Bandaid was snatched up by a far more deserving soldier in my care.

Before I ever started working in a preschool, I never gave much thought to exactly what was involved in a preschool curriculum. I never attended preschool as a child, but I remember recognizing colors and learning to count in kindergarten, and then learning reading and simple arithmetic in the first grade.

Well, not anymore! Re-adjust all of those lessons to two years sooner, and you now have the basic preschool curriculum. Add to that a science study, music, art, drama, and chapel. Having never worked in a preschool until this year, I was wondering if four and five year olds would be able to learn all of this information at such a young age. It seems that I had forgotten my own teaching axiom: The best way to get someone to do well is to let them know how well they’re doing.

Teaching in a preschool is like plunging into a cross-section of every personality and culture of society. We have our quiet, laid back ones, our aggressive ones, our bilingual ones, our grumpy/argumentative ones, our enthusiastic and self-motivating ones. We also have artistic and sensitive ones, and those who couldn’t care less about coloring within the lines. However, they are all exactly alike in their desire to be loved, accepted, cherished, and to have a purpose. Yes, even very young children don’t want to participate if they think that their contribution has no significance. That’s why they yell out their answer to a question and then get angry when someone else tries to answer it before they do. They want to get the credit and attention before their classmate does. I’m sure we all know an adult who behaves the same way! Oh wait, we all behave that way. No matter our age, we all crave significance and love… and we want to have a voice.  

Our job as teachers is to help these little ones find that significance and voice before they look in the wrong places. I wonder — what age do we hit when we begin thinking that our significance must be earned? Most children are aware of how important they are within their families, so when they are young, they seem to laugh, speak up, say whatever is on their minds without the slightest hesitation. They just say it without being even slightly aware of discretion or rudeness! They interrupt, because how could anything they have to say not be a priority?

Then we all reach “that age” at some point. We think, “Oh, I could never say that out loud in front of all these people; I’ll be laughed at…or dismissed!” When did that happen? Who or what taught us that? Or, who did not encourage us that our opinion mattered? We want to teach all of the children manners, kindness, and the immense value of friendship. It’s also crucial that they know that their thoughts and their presence is so important to us.

The most triumphant feeling at the end of the school year comes from hearing the groans of disappointment when the kids are told, “No, I won’t be seeing you next week – this was the last day of school!”

Working with children is hard. It’s physically exhausting, emotionally exhilarating, wildly joyful, sometimes heartbreaking, and always an honor. I will happily display my boo-boo –oops, sorry, I did it again (now a habit) – my camo Bandaid with pride. The scrape may be superficial and temporary, but it’s a reminder of a permanent and deep change of perspective and influence. It’s a medal of honor.

Dance on.

            One of the more difficult issues to resolve when working with young children is the dilemma of winning and losing at a game. The skills of the game are actually secondary at this point; the goal is emotional growth through learning humility, sportsmanship, winning, and basically learning to not throw a tantrum when you lose. Most of the kids in the preschool class where I work want to stop playing when they’re losing and the winner feels it’s appropriate to gloat – all of them except one little girl. The first time she lost she giggled and was genuinely happy for the little boy who won. Then she lost again and giggled a bit louder. She ended up losing every time, but with each attempt she laughed louder and louder until she was shrieking with glee. She thought it was hilarious that she couldn’t win at this game! I had more fun watching her lose than teaching her how to play! I don’t know what secret she has mastered in her four short years of life, but this sweet little thing really knows how to love every minute of every day. She finally did win a game and was certainly very happy and proud of herself, but every time her opponent won she would yell out his victory and cheer. This little girl not only enjoys the whole experience of working towards a goal, but she is learning the value of every experience. She’s not even aware yet of her own wisdom, but she will reap the benefits endlessly as she grows.

When and how did we learn that we must win at all costs? Why is winning at everything the only thing that makes the effort worth the time? I understand contests, competitions, situations that require a declared winner, but to see a little girl consistently rejoicing in someone else’s victory and laughing at her own mistakes without self-condemnation or remorse shows that one-upping each other does not contribute to learning nor developing a healthy attitude. This little girl happens to be very smart, and she is well aware of the concept of winning or losing. However, I think that for her, losing a game is simply part of the experience she gets to have with her friends and teachers who love her. She accepts everything that happens to her as part of this fun journey she’s on. She tries her best at everything, she loves her friends, including the ones who sometimes make her angry, and in her free time she draws pictures of hearts and rainbows for everyone, including the ones who won the games that she’s lost. 

It’s a shame that we tend to become jaded and often cynical as we grow up. So many of us are taught to “do unto others before they do unto you.” We need to be first in line, first to shout an answer, first to be the one to pass on information…such a “me first” mentality. Who are we trying to impress? Is it ourselves?

What a wonderful lesson for all of us to learn in school! We all need a teacher who is four years old with an infectious giggle. This little girl already knows the lesson – she lives the lesson. With every giggle, every new picture she draws for the teachers, every interesting weed she presents proudly as a gift, she is honoring God by demonstrating her awe and wonder at every element of creation. She is already unknowingly becoming the teacher with her innocent appreciation of her world and all the people around her.

So, I think I’ve figured out one of the most important goals in the classroom at ANY age: to learn how to keep the students’ perpetual awe intact and to keep them giggling louder every time they lose at Alphabet Bingo.

And to keep them dancing on.