If any of you know the parable of the sower from Matthew 13 (verses 1-9 and 18-23), you know the focus is typically on the being the good soil so the seed will produce a harvest. Where's your heart? Is it receptive to the gospel presented to you? The sower flung the seed on the path, on rocky soil, in the thorns, but some fell on good soil. You've got to read the parable to understand it (go here for the story). I pray that my heart will be receptive when the gospel is presented to me.
Our pastor presented a different perspective to us this past Sunday. He started by telling us that the sower in the parable must not have been a very good farmer. The seed he sowed had only a 25% chance of making it. You can imagine the scene as the farmer just threw the seeds everywhere! In first century Palestine, this was a waste of valuable resources.
Instead of focusing in on our own hearts and how receptive we are to the gospel, our pastor challenged us to see it from the sower's perspective. And that's the point of the sermon when the teacher side of my brain tuned in. I started thinking not only of my heart, but I began to consider my students that will be walking into my classroom this fall. And I applied the sower's attitude with the seed to my attitude toward the boys and girls who will be walking through my door in 2 weeks.
You know, we are often careful to share our lives with only those people who we're sure will receive us and what we stand for. As teachers, there are often those students who are involved in class, who seem to have a deep desire to learn what we are offering, who stay on top of their homework, and who genuinely listen. It's easy to teach those kids, isn't it? These are the ones who bring you something for Christmas, who write you a thank you note "just because". Don't get me wrong, I have my own children do those things; I have nothing against those students. But do I really go into my school year expecting this from the students, that they are all a part of the "good soil" the parable discusses?
The reality is that we have students who carry a lot of baggage.
The seed along the path:
Some of our students have trouble understanding what we present or the activities that we've delicately prepared for them. Perhaps there's a learning disability or an attention disorder that gets in the way. Whatever it is, the learning is snatched away and seemingly gone forever.
The seed in the rocky soil:
There are students who aim to please and they try to do well. We may even have a wonderful lesson planned that unfolds something for them they've never understood before. They're engaged, but when it comes time for evaluation, we too clearly see that they haven't grasped the concept for the long term; the material was too difficult for them. What appeared to take root never did.
The seed among the thorns:
Still other students have the odds stacked against them. They're intelligent, and we know they have potential, but their home lives challenge them in ways we don't comprehend. These students may have concerns that choke their good intentions out of them. When they're at school, it's fine, but as soon as they leave, the worries return. Where will my next meal come from? When will my mom get home from work? Will my parents or my sister treat me well, or will they yell at me again? When will I find a true friend?
My question is, How can we become more like the sower? Instead of simply focusing on preparing our own hearts to receive, as a farmer would prepare the soil, let's take the attitude of the sower who would extend grace to each and every type of student, even the ones we're unsure will learn a thing from us this year. You will have students who struggle to learn because of a disability. You will have students who struggle because the material is just too hard for them, no matter your methods. You will have students who struggle because of the worries they harbor, concerns you may never fully understand.
If we become like the sower in this parable, though, we will not hesitate to fling the seed in apparent reckless abandon. I say apparent here because others may not understand what we're doing. They may drag us down with excuses like, That kid can't be reached. As teachers, though, we have the highest calling. We must give every student (and I mean every student) our absolute best. I pray that I can do that this year. I pray that you can do that this year.
Perhaps the sower who appeared to know so little about farming knew more than what we give him credit for. What seemed to be reckless abandon on the sower's part in flinging the seeds every which way may have actually been intentional love for every person. No matter our students this year, our highest task is to love each one of them, according to their needs, attempting to reach them, never giving up on them no matter their circumstance.
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