Your eye is the lamp of your body. Where your eyes are healthy, your whole body also is full of light. Luke 11:34a, NIV

What am I doing wrong? Why does this student hate me? I should just quit and work where people appreciate me!

It was September of my 25th year of teaching, and although these thoughts had become less frequent since my first faltering years, this one hit me with renewed force. A certain student bristled like a porcupine when I came near, responding to my soft suggestions with vitriol. I gave her options, and I showed personal interest, but
she sat sullen, refusing to work for weeks on end. Finally, she dropped out.

Movies about “amazing teachers” annoy me, even when they are true. The plot is always the same: recalcitrant kids mercilessly resist a new teacher. Upon persistent exercising of innovative skills in the face of parental apathy and administrative opposition, the teacher gains the students’ trust, and then the whole class aces the SAT or wins the state championship. All these movies do is make me feel inadequate.

But what if our cloudy perspectives, not our abilities as teachers, are the problem? The truth is, we tend to stumble with self-doubt when we don’t see things accurately. For example…

● When we see student anger as a reaction to something in our approach, we react in frustration because we have already tried all our tricks.
● When we see our job as our identity, we torment ourselves and short our families by working harder.
● When we see criticism as an indictment of us, we despair.

At the beginning of 2024, I asked God to clear my vision. As I focused on both my weakness and His power, He reminded me that negative student reactions are much more often about student trauma or insecurity than my abilities.

Not long after, a different student gave me a chance to test my new “lenses.” Despite our previous good relationship, she began to give me the cold shoulder. She would greet my “Good morning!” with silence even when we were the only ones in the hall. She would meet any input with an under-the-breath comment to her friends. I had a sense that she would not be open to direct conversation, so I just kept saying “Good morning,” showering her with praise and ignoring the subversive behavior.

And I prayed. I prayed for her every morning on my way to work. Slow traffic? More prayer. I prayed that God would help me respond to her kindly, but mostly I prayed that He would work out her troubles and soften her heart toward Him, regardless of her response to me.

Four long months later, she finally said good morning back. One beautiful day she asked me for help with her project. The murmuring stopped. She smiled. And the only thing that I changed was my perspective.

Whether a student changes or not, may we all see clearly our own weaknesses and learn to rely on God’s power.

Lord, clear my vision today so that I can see students and situations with Your eyes and walk with confidence. Amen.

Copyright Margaret Hespen.

Margaret is a member and teaches middle and high school art in Oregon.