Kindergarten

I didn't post on here yesterday.

It just slipped my mind.

I was having too much fun doing other things and before you know it, it was Friday. And Friday meant that we spent all day in a car travelling the roads of Idaho with the rest of Aggie Nation. Tomorrow is a big game day.

But I don't want to talk about what I did today. I want to talk about yesterday, and what happened yesterday in light of what happened today, this morning, in a little Elementary school in Connecticut.

Yesterday, Kevin and I visited my mom at work.

She's a Kindergarten teacher.

We meant to stay for five, maybe ten minutes. But here's the thing about a good Kindergarten classroom. Once you enter, you just want to stay and stay and stay. Because, in Kindergarten, you feel good about yourself. You feel good about other people. You see little children that give you hope in an ever-discouraging societal future. You learn new words. Like vertices. Until yesterday, I had no idea what that was. And when I told one of the little girls that, her blond curls bounced as she gave me a look that said, "you really didn't know what that meant? Where have you been? Duh."

So we stayed.

For almost two hours.

And we learned.

My mom introduced the children to her granddaughter and then explained that the baby's uncle called her Kevin. "Why do you think he calls her Kevin?" She asked.

Little hands shot up into the air.
Because she looks like a boy.
Because she has blue eyes like him.
Because Kevin is a good name.
I know a Kevin.
Because she looks like a Kevin.
Finally, I explained the connection to the bird named Kevin in the movie UP! who is, in fact, a girl.
Because she's a girl!

Good job. You know, there aren't really wrong answers in Kindergarten. At least, nobody feels as if they gave a wrong answer in Kindergarten. You can give not-quite-right answers, or almost answers, or answers that are completely off-topic, but the important thing is, you give an answer.

There are no answers for what happened this morning. It's heartbreaking that in today's society, we expect shootings at public gatherings. We expect them at shopping malls. Even a movie theater, although hard to comprehend, is comprehendable. We expect them at middle schools and junior highs.

But you never, ever, ever expect them in a Kindergarten classroom.

Kindergarten classrooms are meant to be full of life. The very best kind of life. The kind of life where you can be anything you want and every day you learn something new. The kind where you learn to be a friend and a helper, to fulfill your responsibility and save your Turtle Tokens for the Turtle Store when you do something good, and hand them over as a punishment when you are naughty.

My mom's classroom has a motto: Slow and Steady wins the race.

The race of life is never easy and it is always unexpected, but like it or not, this is a marathon we didn't sign up for, but we still have to run. We run it together. Some of us are given harder routes than others. But we all have the same destination in mind. We hold each other up. We cheer each other on. We love. We make good choices. We learn new things.


I have read three different blog posts in the last hour, all friends of mine, each asked to run a different race. One discusses the recovery of one of my missionary friends, who recently had surgery to remove a tumor from behind his ear. Everyday, he is battling to do simple things: sit, stand, walk on his own.

Good news. He is winning.

I read about a friend's wait for his sweetheart, who is off fulfilling a calling to teach the people of the Phillipines about Christ. Everyday that she sits in a classroom and learns a foreign language, she is winning.

And then there is the post of the older sister of a dear friend of mine, whose baby boy will turn one year old tomorrow, in the hospital where he has spent almost every major holiday of his life. He, also, is fighting. She, her husband, her family, her friends...we are all fighting with him. Every time we see that boy's smile and we smile, everytime we hold a child closer and are more grateful for what we have been given instead of what we don't have, we are winning.

Somedays our races are harder to run than others.

And when life stops making sense, we ask a teacher.

Tonight, we ask the Teacher of all Teachers for help, peace, and understanding. In return, He will help us find life.

We can be on the winning team.