Redemption

Lent is a loaded time for Christians. Our inherent sinfulness is thrust up and center, which would be depressing if it were not for Easter Sunday. Thanks to social media, I "see" people in sacrificial mode, trying to feel a closer connection to God by stripping themselves of something that normally keeps them more tied to this life. (I'm not good at rules, so we decided to make a donation to a cancer research organization each time we eat out. I figured that would help humanity more than giving up chocolate.)

This weekend marks the time last year when my earthly father entered the hospital for what would turn out to be one of two long stays. As an English major and teacher, the symbolism was not lost on me. In fact, that symbolism was a large reason why I believe I was able to stay strong through the most trying time of my life. I looked forward to my daily email from the Lutheran Hour Daily Devotion. I never felt that even though my father's health was deteriorating, God was abandoning us or him. I knew that God made it clear that we wouldn't live on this Earth forever, and my Dad entering the kingdom of heaven was not a broken promise. Still, there were things to be disappointed and heartbroken about, as you can imagine.

My Dad was one of my few "safe" people. I knew I could always call him, tell him something that hurt me or was bothering me, and he would proceed to reassure me and "keep that beautiful smile on your face!" He knew my worth and created a space for me to refocus when the world got me down. He also taught me about the futility of revenge and stewing in one's own negativity. We all need at least one of those people in our lives, and he was already becoming that person for my own sons. Dang, it's a hard, hard blow when that person leaves you. (I am thankful that my husband is one of those people for me.)

Much the same, I imagine, as when Jesus' time on Earth was getting close to ending. I am no theologian, but I believe it's clear that Jesus didn't necessarily want to leave. God knew we could never be reconciled to him by our own doing, and Jesus knew what his mission was, but he also knew there were some sweet things on earth. His family, his friends. Certainly there were things he learned from them, as well. Our reading today from Hebrews confirms that "although [Jesus] was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered" (Hebrews 5:8).

One of my cousins visit my Dad from Maryland when he first went into the hospital, and when he asked my Dad what he should pray for, my Dad said God's will. How powerful that was for all of us. Not for the miracle of complete healing, which would be a normal and understandable desire. God's will. I believe that shows the learned obedience that Hebrews speaks of.

Even Jesus suffered. But as Hebrews says, because of Jesus' reverent submission, his cries and tears were heard. That was in the days of his flesh. Of his flesh. Which means there is much more.

While it's difficult to forget someone's suffering, obviously I have more to remember by my Dad's reverent submission. His example embodies the spirit of Lent for me, now. It's not just about humanity being broken and undependable. When we show that learned obedience, reverent submission, we are the closest to our Savior.

One-click learning

Faster Internet speed. Download instantly. One-click shopping. Overnight shipping.

None of those things is bad. There is no good reason for slower Internet, difficult downloading, hours of shopping in stores, and waiting weeks for a delivery.

But if this is the mentality of our society today, how do we see that trickle into education? Maybe that question could be phrased better: how have we seen this trickle into education?

We have all of the knowledge in the world at our fingertips, as long as we have functioning technology. We need the fast Internet speed and instant downloads. One-stop shopping means shared lesson plans and materials. No shipping needed with an instant download of a unit plan, including the test (with answers).

Does this make room for more time? Or less? Certainly math hasn't changed over the course of time, but all we hear is, "I don't have time to do that." "That", in this context, could mean any number of things: reading, research, writing, thinking, stretching.

We want everything fast. And that includes learning.

However, this has not been the human strategy until the last 5-10 years or so. I'm no brain expert, but it seems like we weren't built to learn everything possible in the 10 minutes we give it. How many times have teachers presented new concepts to students only to complain in the teachers' lounge during lunch that they'll never get it? The kid in the 3rd row still doesn't understand last week's lesson. Jimmy always asks 40 questions. Sally is absent twice a week. And Joe just takes his time, learning when he feels like it.

It took me years to learn how to write. YEARS. Not a block period of 90 minutes with a smartphone, interactive handout, and an exit slip. And I had to be allowed to mess up. Make mistakes. Completely do the wrong thing. And then I had to get yelled at so I knew I did something wrong. And by "yelled at," I mean lots and lots of pen marks (I never had a teacher use a red pen. That's a myth.).

I feel like we have lost this in my little world of experience in education during the past 10 years. Room to breathe. Think. Stretch minds. Make mistakes. All of that should be okay.

That's where real learning lies. But it takes courage. And we don't live in a world in which it's acceptable to make mistakes. There are too many standardized tests at stake.

In my classroom, I tried to cultivate an atmosphere of happy mistakes. You congratulate a student and say, "Hey, at least you tried! Now try again." My goal was not for them to be experts by the time they left my classroom; on the contrary, I usually told them on the last day of school that they had only just begun, that my classroom was one stepping stone.

You can't one-click download long-term, authentic learning, enthusiasm, and intelligence. No, there is no app for that.