And so today was terrible.

And so today was terrible.

I teach three classes on Tuesday, and I start at 8:00. I wasn’t prepared, so I got up at 5:00. No big deal, except that today I woke up with the alarm. Not only that, but I wove the alarm into my dream. That means I was very asleep.

I got up. Got my coffee. And sat down with my Bible. Except that I opened my computer first.

I never even opened my Bible.

I ran into traffic.

Somebody got into an accident on the westbound 52, and the people in front of me wanted to look.  I parked my car at Mesa College at 7:59. Class starts at 8:00.

Class was great. Mostly.

And then I walked to my next class.

This class is part of a learning community.

A learning community with a call to group unity and group success.

Ten out of 25 students came in late. Very late.

They talked constantly.

They couldn’t hear me. Or they didn’t understand. Or something.

They argued with each other. Across the room. Students taking sides. Students defending themselves.

And I intervened.

I reaffirmed the call of this class to unity.

And we got back to work.

I wanted to cry.

This has been a very difficult class. From the very beginning.

Half the students don’t listen.

Half don’t do their work.

Half don’t seem to care.

After class I did cry.

Am I okay?

Am I a good teacher?

And then I sent a venting letter to the director of the learning community.

And then I cried again.

And yet, I know God is in control. I know He loves me. I know I can make a difference.

If God empowers me and I rest in Him.

But I didn’t even open my Bible today. 

I miss your voice, God. I miss your word.

I need you.

I had another class at 2:30. This class went great. Most classes do.

And I was glad when it was over, so I could go home and grade papers.

Or do nothing.

But after class a former student walked in.

She brought me a new journal. A beautiful blue-green journal with the words, “We write to taste life twice” written on the cover and the  words “You are expert at writing so I just going to write. Thank you!”

No, that is not a typo.

And she gave me the journal and a Nestle’s chocolate bar with almonds.

She apologized for not stopping in sooner because she had purchased the journal a few weeks ago.

And I cried again.

Happy tears.

Because I am not a bad teacher.

And I do care about my students.

And I can make a difference. Not just in their academics, but in their lives.

And I heard God say, “I love you. I’m with you. You are never alone. And I knew this day was coming.”