T is for Transition

Once, when I was a fifth grade elementary school teacher, our school was short on subs. I had a student teacher at the time, so I said I would help by filling in for an hour in the Kindergarten class. When I arrived the students were coloring quietly at their desks. The teacher had left on a personal emergency, so there were no written plans. The principal introduced me to the students, and told me to let them color for about 15 more minutes and then call them to the circle rug. She said that I should pick out a story and read to them. After the story I was to let them out into the yard so they could run and play until it was time to go home.

I glanced at the clock when the principal left, noted the time, and began walking around the room. After five minutes had passed, I announced to the class that in 10 minutes we would clean up and have story time. I continued to walk the classroom, smiling at the children, asking them about their pictures, complimenting them, and keeping an eye on the clock. Five more minutes passed and I made the second announcement. "In five minutes, boys and girls, we will clean up and have story time!" I said with as much five year old excitement in my voice as I could muster. And I continued my stroll around the room.

Finally, it was time to transition from coloring to story time. All teachers know that the transition time, the time in between one activity and the next is a critical time. If the students do not move quickly, orderly, and quietly to the next task then all discipline can be lost and mayhem can break out. If a teacher is going to lose control of a classroom it is most likely going to happen in between lessons.  Now, being a fifth grade teacher, I wasn't at all frightened of a bunch of 5 and 6 year olds. Besides, I had done exactly what you are supposed to do with students when transitioning from one activity to the next. This was going to be a piece of cake.

"Alright boys and girls, it's time to come to the rug for story time!" I declared. "It's time to put your crayons and drawings away and clean up so we can read a story!" With that statement, all of the children began putting their crayons away and placing their pictures into their cubbies. All of the children except Joey. Joey did not stop when I asked the children to stop. He kept right on coloring. I moved over towards Joey and placed my hand softly on his shoulder. "Joey," I said quietly. "It's time to put your crayons away. You may color later." Then I walked over to the teacher's chair by the rug and sat down.  As each table finished, I called them to come sit on the circle rug to wait. As they were called they came quietly and sat criss-cross-applesauce with their hands folded in their laps. I looked over towards Joey's table and saw everyone seated and ready to be called. Everyone except Joey. Joey was still coloring. "Joey," I said from across the room with some firmness in my voice. "You must put your things away now." The three little girls at Joey's table began frantically putting away his crayons and encouraging him to stop. But Joey didn't want to stop. Joey took one of his arms and folded it across his paper and hunkered down. He had no intention of stopping.

All eyes were on me. "Joey you need to put your coloring away and come to the rug," I said with authority. "Or you will be taken to the principal's office." The girls at Joey's table gasped. The children on the rug became wide eyed with fear (Apparently being sent to the principal's office is just a tad more traumatic as a five year-old than as a fifth grader). Tears began to run down Joey's cheeks. He tightened his arm around his drawing as the concerned and panicked girls tried to make him stop.  He began coloring harder and faster.  "Joey!" they pleaded, "You have to stop!" One girl managed to pry the paper from underneath him and ran it to his cubby while the others put away the last of his crayons. The girls came to the rug and I began the story, leaving Joey to sit in his chair.

After the story, all of the children went out to play.  All except for Joey.  Joey still sat in his chair.  Alone - alone and sad.  I watched Joey from the door - never leaving him out of my sight, while I also kept an eye on the other children who were laughing and playing outside.  I realized while standing there, reflecting on what had transpired, that Joey didn't know me.  He didn't know he could trust me.  He had no prior experience with me to know that I had something good and wonderful planned.  That following me would make everything better.  Instead, he chose to cling to what was past- and that resulted in him missing out.  Instead of running around outside, playing and laughing with his classmates, he was sitting inside sad and alone.

Several years later, I found myself on the verge of numerous changes. My husband had been laid off from his job.  I was being moved from one school to another, our children were all changing schools, the pastor of our church had resigned, and my parents were moving 1500 miles away.  I was not happy.  I did not want a new school - for me or my children.  I did not want a new pastor, nor did I want my parents to move 1500 miles away from me or their grandchildren.  And I was most certainly not happy that my husband did not have a job.  And, I let God know.  Repeatedly.  Over and Over again.  I was not happy. 

And then, one day, while I was whining to God I remembered.  I remembered Joey.  I saw him with his arm stubbornly laying across the table holding tightly to his drawing.  I saw the tears streaming down his face.  I saw the other children around him, trying to help, trying to keep him on track.  And I remembered my thoughts.  I recalled thinking how Joey didn't know he could trust me. He had no prior experience with me to know that I had something good and wonderful planned. That following me would make everything better. Instead, he chose to cling to what what was past- and that resulted in him missing out.  I started to wonder about the one in control of my life, and I had to ask myself.  "Do I not know Him?  Have I not experienced His working in my life?  Do I not believe that following Him would make everything better?  Don't I trust Him?" And then it became clear to me. I was Joey,  stubbornly holding onto my crayons, coloring my picture while God was calling me to come sit on the rug and listen to a story.  And I saw that it was time.  Time to put my crayons away and come sit on the rug.  Because I do know God and I do trust that He will make everything better.  Even when I can't see it for myself.