What direction are you circling the wagons?

At times, you’ll need to circle the wagons.

You’ll need to protect what’s important to you.

You’ll need to engage in active self-protection.

But, circling the wagons is only half the action you take.

The second half of the action is the direct which you then face.

Are you facing out or in?

Are your thoughts and focus directed inward or outward?

For, this dramatically changes the intention behind the circle.

Is it to defend from an outside threat?

Or is it to surround something within the circle?

The direction you face within the circle determines your purpose.

The direction you face within the circle determines your attitude.

Teaching isn’t meant to be a secret

I sometimes wonder if people (especially students and parents) think that teachers receive a sly sense of accomplishment when we grade an assessment which fails.

Do some people think that we are trying to deceive students?

Is our aim meant to be to prove that we can trick our students effectively?

If this was the case, then we should get a strange sense of warmth when we dish out a grade of a 9/20.

Except I can’t think of a single teacher who thinks like this.

I certainly don’t.

If anything, I’m the exact opposite.

My aim will be to NOT deceive my students.

I will explicitly tell them everything they need to know.

I will show them.

I will tell them.

I will tell them again.

I will tell… them… slowly… and… loudly.

I will remind them.

Why?

Because I don’t need everyone to know that I’m the smartest one in the room, hoarding a secret knowledge all to myself.

In essence, my job is to arm my students with the knowledge and tools to perform well.

My job is to prepare them to be able to express what they know in the most effective manner possible.

Hiding the tricks-of-the-trade serves me, and my students, no favours.

If anything, I should be peeling back the curtain as far as possible.

I should be taking my class through the precise way I will mark.

I should be taking my class through the exact way I determine a grade.

I should be showing my class what annoys a teacher in a written response (like rhetorical questions!).

I should be telling my class to treat me (and anyone else marking their essay) like an idiot (thus they should be clear in explaining what they are writing about).

I should be explaining to my class the methodology behind their lesson structures.

I should be telling my class how I will prepare them for their assessment tasks.

I should explain to them how to dissect an essay question.

I should pick apart marking criterias in front of my class.

Why the hell wouldn’t I?

Teaching isn’t meant to be a secret.

Would putting the point first make a difference?

Last Sunday I was building towards a point with the youngsters at church.

It wasn’t - I grant you - a life-changing point, but hopefully a somewhat coherent point nonetheless.

Then, as I was about to transition from my linking activity to the meat of my lesson a sky writer was spotted in the sky.

Understandably, this threw a significant spanner in the works.

That the sky writer loosely tied into my original game didn’t help.

Frankly, it hasn’t been the first time that a lesson of mine has been derailed.

Unexpected things happen.

Focus wains.

The best of plans unravel.

Everyone who has taught for a significant time has experienced this.

So, should lessons be flipped if you can’t ensure a set time of productivity?

Instead of ending with the main point, should you start with it?

Instead of unveiling your point it slowly, should you just reveal it up front?

While it may be harder to potentially plan the lesson, I think a subtle change of language would help bridge the main point with the lesson content.

Instead of saying/thinking “let me show/tell you how what we’ve done fits together”, now the lesson should be structured around the concept “now I’ve told you the main point, let me show/tell you why it makes sense.”

For occasions where your timeframe or focus may not be assured, putting your main point up front may provide you with a way to avoid leaving the lesson without feeling like you inadequately expressed your point.

Do I miss youth ministry?

I really, really, like my job.

But, I must admit that I miss my old gig.

Often.

I missed it as I delivered my suffering spiel to my Studies of Religion class last week.

I already know that I’m going to miss it as I conduct the training for the incoming Peer Support leaders for 2025.

Increasingly, as my current job intersects with the tasks and talents of youth ministry, it reminds of of what I left behind.

The privilege of speaking in public.

Intentionally pastorally caring for a group of people.

Sharing stories from my life.

Helping others to recognise how their past can be used productively in the present.h

Teaching others how to invest in and lead a small group.

Honestly, I do miss youth ministry.

Of course, it wasn’t all wonderful.

The grind of ministry was worse than teaching… there’s always another Sunday seven short days away.

Dealing closely with other people - imperfect people - could be a challenge.

But, being a part of a community which you help shape and guide is a blessing. 

A blessing which anyone in ministry should be prepared to admit that they miss.

For, no matter how God may be using someone now or how their ministry years may have shaped them for their current life-stage, looking back fondly upon your time in ministry is nothing to be ashamed of.