Meeting the Boys for the First Time

That Sunday turned out to be one of those days when so many things happen that you figure God really must be trying to tell you something, if only you could figure out what!

I followed my usual practice of taking time during the church's early (8:15 AM) service to arrange the activities in the room and to review the Bible story and the lesson. I even had time to try out a new photocopier that had been given to the church, making copies of some extra materials that could enhance the lesson.

I was sitting back in the classroom when one of the church members, an older gentleman, stepped in. He told me that the pastor's daughter had gotten sick during the service, and the mother would need to take their children home; could I play keyboard for the second service? Of course I was happy to do so, and I grabbed up my purse to head upstairs, planning to slip discreetly into the sanctuary so Betty could leave immediately.  But I met her in the hall and learned that she planned to finish out the early service, so I didn't have to rush.

Back downstairs once again, I gathered my breath and reviewed my revised expectations for the morning: the children I would see, the possible helper, the activities, the Bible story, what time I would need to leave to get ready for worship - that sort of thing.  The helper arrived - Mary, the teenage daughter - and I learned that her great-grandfather was truly very ill and not expected to survive.  I felt especially appreciative that she was giving her time to help out in the class, and I began giving her a brief rundown of the way we operated in that style of teaching, since I didn't know whether she had ever helped in that way before.  She seemed to be quite capable and confident and definitely willing to help.  I encouraged her to look around, to become acquainted with the room, so that she would be able to use the children's playtime and activities as conversation starters to talk about the Bible truths and the story.

It was time for the early service to conclude, and soon some of our children should start arriving - the ones who had attended first service.  Out in the hall I could hear sounds of some younger children in motion.  And then into the room rushed two new little boys that I had never seen before.  Looking around curiously, eagerly; checking out with their eyes the toys, the pictures on the walls, the cabinets, the lights in the ceiling above.  They said nothing, and they didn't look at me; they just looked around everywhere, taking it all in as they moved quickly around the room from one place to another.

Background

The Sunday School class I teach is made up of three-, four-, and five-year-olds (pre-kindergarten), and at the time this story began I had been teaching them for about seven months, having taken over from a much-loved, highly-respected teacher of many years who simply needed a break.

The 3-to-5-year range is a period of much growth and change and, as might be expected, the older kids can be very different from the younger ones. The way we teach is fairly similar to the Montessori school method, with a strong emphasis on sensory activities, teachable moments, and setting up the room to teach rather than using a structured classroom-style approach.

During my months of teaching I had recruited a helper for the  class, for one reason because her grandson was in that age group and was somewhat timid about separation from his family; but more importantly, I actually did need help with the class. From having had just one child in regular attendance at the beginning of the year, the class had mushroomed to having 7-8 frequently, and at that age it is important to have more than one adult present.

Things had gone well with Rani's help. Each Sunday we had times of Learning through Play, a short Circle Time (Group Time or Story Time, if you prefer), a snack time all together, and then some more free play activities. Bible thoughts, Bible truths, and Bible stories are woven appropriately into all of the interaction with the children, while they are at play. Usually we would take the children as a group to the restroom across the hall and to wash hands before our snack time, but because of the class's wide age range, that pattern had become more flexible through the months.

In March, Rani had let me know that she and her grandson would not be in attendance on a certain Sunday because of a family function. I hadn't hurried to find a replacement, since my older-teenage son had usually helped me out in the past.  But when the day drew near and I mentioned the date to him, he balked a bit; he had become more interested in his own class and didn't want to miss a week of their Bible study.

(I wish I could remember what it was about! Wouldn't most Sunday School teachers of young adults want to know which topics are that interesting to their students?)

So, on the day before Rani's absence, I Facebooked the young woman who was listed as the regular Substitute Teacher, to see whether she could help out - and I reassured her that I would probably be okay, in case she couldn't. (Our classroom is directly across from the Sunday School office, and several people there could help me find someone if needed.) She messaged me back that either she or her young teenage daughter would fill in; her husband's grandfather had had a stroke that very morning, they were with extended family at the hospital at that time, and his situation seemed quite precarious.

I hastily messaged her again to let her know that in their uncertain circumstances I would not want them to go out of their way even a tiny bit to assist me. They needed to be with family and I would be able to recruit some other help if I found that I did in fact need it.

I really had no idea what lay ahead.