Little Marks

This week I began each of my Comp classes by having the students write from two different prompts. I made them for ten minutes. I told them I didn't care about grammar, spelling, even complete sentences. If they couldn't think of anything to write, I told them to copy (and re-copy, if necessary) what they'd already written. Some loved it, some hated it. Some just sat there, looking pitiful as if this was the longest, and most painful ten minutes of their life.

See, the school I teach at is a "technical school." Most of the students that attend this school don't have an affinity for writing, they don't enjoy it, they're even afraid of it. They will talk all day long, but there's something terrifying about putting their thoughts, feelings, and ideas down on paper, and that's what I wanted them to do. Without a lot of pressure, without a lot of stipulations about the "rules of writing," I just wanted to help them take a step toward not being so afraid or paralyzed every time someone tells them to write about "x."

Here's the thing: this is how I am when God tells me to try something spiritually, something he's designed for my good. There's just something about God telling me to do something that causes the knees to shake, the sweat to start pouring, and hundreds of excuses to come pouring forth. It's like I instantly become a reincarnation of Moses--standing before a bush that's on fire but not burning, hearing the voice of God, knowing that the Almighty God of the Universe is the one sending him to do something, hearing the promise that he'll be with him when he goes--worried about a speech impediment.

I can almost hear God saying, what I said to my students all week, "Come on, Jason, just try. I've got you. This is a safe place. I'm your Heavenly Father, and I'm not going to just leave you hanging if you screw up. In fact, I'll be smiling the entire time." So, I need to take a cue from my students, who picked up the pens and pencils in fear and started making little marks on the paper. Unsure of themselves the whole time, but choosing to trust me and my plan. Trying to believe that what I told them was true.