Same Stuff, Different Day - Special Edition

#21 in the Gospel-Centered Mentoring Series

This is a tale of two “s” words.  The first one occurred in first grade.  On classmates’ birthdays, our teacher would make a big birthday card out of construction paper which we would all sign throughout the day.  As one particular card was getting passed around, someone had written the “s” word in brown crayon.  When my classmate handed me the card, she pointed at the word and giggled.  I didn’t really know what the word meant (though I think the brown crayon was a clue), but not wanting to appear ignorant, I laughed as well.  My teacher saw us giggling and apprehended the birthday card, and exclaimed, “Christine, I am surprised at you!  That you would even know such a word, as a pastor’s daughter!” Hot shame flushed my cheeks and left me wondering, “What kind of a pastor’s daughter was I?”

Fast forward to sixth grade, when I very much knew that word and many other cuss words.  Playing HORSE on the basketball court with two classmates, I missed my shot,  and let the “s” word fly.  My teacher overheard and asked, “Christine, did you say what I thought you said?”  Mortified, I shook my head.  “I’m afraid you did,” he responded soberly.  My classmates were waiting for him to tell my dad, and I was dreading the inevitable shame and humiliation of the drama that was sure to unfold.   But it never came.  As far as I know, my teacher never told my parents.  I’d like to tell you that I never swore again, but that would be a lie.  All I can say is, in that moment, I was both profoundly sorry and later profoundly grateful to my teacher.  (Shout out to Mr. Willms!) 

Same stuff, different day.

Photo by saeed karimi on Unsplash

What’s the lesson for the Gospel-centered mentor?  Shame, public humiliation, and my identity were called into question in the first scenario.  No questions were asked; snap judgments were made; and there was an implication that a “good” pastor’s daughter would not know cuss words.  Therefore, I was not a “good” pastor’s daughter.  Becoming both a teacher and a mom has led me to empathize with my first grade teacher and forgive her, knowing how difficult it can be to navigate teachable moments with wisdom and grace.  I still regret words I’ve said to students and my children because I know how mentors’ words can stick with you.  I understand why the Bible says that we who presume to teach will be judged more harshly (James 3:1), and why we need humility to confess our sins to those we mentor and teach.  Grace needs to infuse every interaction.  

In the second scenario, I was given that grace, which led to gratitude and a change in my behavior.  That lesson also stuck.  Since I respected the teacher, I gave genuine effort to cleaning up my language and behavior. Not only was I a daughter of a pastor, but I was learning to lean into my identity as a Daughter of the King.