Esther

Martin Gee, Secondary Teacher

Things seem to be busy at the moment. Last week passed by in a blur. I do remember Mr Cavens chatting in the staffroom. He was speaking to someone else while I was rushing around. Mr Cavens said that it is satisfying to sit down in a clean house, once all the work is done. I can relate to that. However, it is becoming harder to get all the work done. The closer I get to the weekend, the greater my motivation is to tick things off my list. I love a Friday afternoon when I can walk away from my work with the sense that all jobs are done. Last Friday I got to school early and my desk was still strewn with Thursday’s chaos: exercise books, SLR cameras, insects from Mr Shadie, two dirty plates and a coffee plunger with tea leaves in it. The end of the day approached and I knew there was little chance of finishing things off.  As the weekend loomed, I was cast upon its shore like a shipwreck survivor.

The best thing about my weekend is the ancient Hebrew idea of the Sabbath. I stop, for a day, and consider that God is indispensable, while I am not. Most often I go into the bush, down to a creek, and make a coffee. I sit still and I look at all the things that God has made. Most of them have grown silently, taking their natural time: a tree leaning by the water, lichen spreading its patterns over a rock. After my Sabbath, the week grinds into gear once again.

I sometimes wonder whether our jobs are becoming more demanding. I had an appointment at the medical centre on Monday. A young doctor and an older nurse were saying the same thing; they felt like they were rushing from one patient to the next. I have friends who are tradies and it seems to be the same. It’s especially true if you are a parent, or caregiver, who is trying to work and still be present for your family.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about balance in the midst of this busyness. I’ve been thinking about this statement:

You teach what you know, but you reproduce who you are.

That’s a sobering thought. It means that I can work hard, and my students could learn well, yet they may be released into the world too much like myself; hardworking, busy and anxious. Last week, a colleague tried talking to me twice. I was in a rush, and she was apologetic for taking up my time. She said, ‘I’m sorry, I can see you are busy.’ That made me stop and think. ‘Busy’ is probably not what I want to be known for, nor what I want to reproduce.

It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in…

C.S Lewis

I would like to teach by heeding that other voice; by letting the Spirit’s stronger, quieter life come flowing in. In the midst of a busy day, and a chaotic lesson, I would like to be able to stop and heed. I need to pay honest attention to my students, to my colleagues, and especially to the quiet voice of God Himself. 

I wonder how I can do this in the midst of a busy day. Perhaps I can learn a lesson from King David. David’s domain was a whole kingdom, and yet he begins with this prayer:

My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have stilled and quieted my soul… 

Psalm 131:1-2

Starting in stillness is an interesting idea. In the midst of busyness, sometimes standing still is a greater act of faith. 

In Elective Art we are learning about photography. We have been exploring the idea of using a camera to help us stop and pay attention; to see the extraordinary in the day’s ordinary moments. Here is something I noticed while our class was walking around the school and trying to pay attention:

I am wondering about how to smuggle Sabbath moments into Monday mornings. I don’t get to sit by a creek, far from the concerns and demands of work. I can, however, be still and pay attention. I can consider what this caterpillar chrysalis reminds me of as I think about my students. I can start each English lesson with ten minutes of silent reading; using this brief moment to be still before God and to attend to my students.

Merrilynne Shaw, Primary Teacher

In Year 5, our daily class devotions have centred around how our thoughts and actions affect others in good ways and bad ways. As a little girl, I was taught a song by some missionaries, and it went something like this…

Seek them out, get them gone,
All the little rabbits in the field of corn.
Envy, jealousy, malice, and pride,
They must never in my heart abide.

It took me some years to understand the meaning of this song. I grew up reading Beatrix Potter and thought that Peter Rabbit was treated unfairly by Mr McGregor, so how could envy, jealousy, malice and pride be connected with a cute little rabbit?

First, some history. In 1859, Thomas Austin decided to have a Christmas hunt on his land at Winchelsea, near Geelong, Victoria. Envious for life back in the mother country and discontented with the alien and hostile landscape, Thomas decided he would make Australia more like his homeland with the addition of familiar flora and fauna. Thomas asked his brother to send 24 rabbits from England. He released them onto his property. The rabbits bred. In 1866 more than 14,000 were shot on Austin’s estate alone. In another two years, 8,080km² of farmland surrounding Thomas’ estate had to be abandoned, stripped bare by the rabbits. By 1886, the devastation spread as far north as Queensland. By 1900, it had spread 4,800km across the desert to Western Australia and the Northern Territory. The migration of rabbits in Australia was the fastest of any colonising mammal anywhere in the world. For comparison’s sake, rabbits were introduced into southern England by the Normans in 1066 and, as late as 1950, had scarcely made it 310km north, to Scotland.

Rabbits have a particularly devastating effect on local fauna and flora. There have been many efforts at controlling rabbits in Australia, including shooting, poisoning, rabbit-proof fences, and biological controls such as myxomatosis. To this day, rabbits continue to decimate the country at an estimated cost of $200 million per year.

So the point is, rabbits are a metaphor. They defile and devastate our land just like envy, jealousy, malice, and pride devastate and defile our hearts. Jesus explains that a person’s heart is defiled by what comes out of it, through their thoughts, motives, words, and imagination. Sin is conceived in the human heart, takes root in the human mind, and is put into practice through human action.

He went on: “What comes out of a person is what defiles them. For it is from within, out of a person’s heart, that evil thoughts come—sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance, and folly. All these evils come from inside and defile a person.”

Mark 7:20-23

Jesus does not paint a pretty picture of our hearts. Think about how often we hear things like “follow your heart” or “do what feels right” or “what does your heart tell you?” Jesus tells us that our hearts are the last places to look for advice on being better people. There is also no effective technique that we can devise to clean up our evil inner selves. Thankfully, God has not abandoned us. Through His Spirit, we are made clean. Although we still carry our old sinful hearts, we are no longer alone. The Holy Spirit is constantly at work within us.

Keep praying. Keep reading the Bible. Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus.

Our hearts are in His care and there is no better place to be.

Leila Thomson, Secondary Teacher

It was lovely to return to school this week and to get back into the routines and traditions that serve our school students well. It was great to see familiar faces and new ones. The first week is always exciting, for both student and teacher alike. Eyes are quick to scan new timetables and classrooms, and hearts are encouraged by the care of the Kuyper School Community.

The new year also invites expectancy and excitement around classes and lessons. This pushes staff to consider the meaning and value of our own lives and the subjects we teach to our students. I asked my Year 9 Core class how the first few days had gone for them, and one student replied that it had felt very “normal”. I thought about that and, given the very abnormal few years we have experienced, normal felt reassuring. I felt much the same.

Of course, our idea of normal is always influenced by our own perceptions, experiences and expectations so that our normal is constantly shifting. The Bible teaches us about “normal” human behaviour and how different it is to the perfection of Jesus, who walked on earth as a man. We want students to learn content, but we also want them to learn the truth about themselves and to take the initiative to work towards their own unique goals. 

In my Senior History class, we have started a historical inquiry where students can choose their own topic and essay question. This is a new step for them and they need to acquire new skills, responding to feedback as the investigation progresses. I think our desire to inquire and to know is normal for us as human beings. Parents and teachers want to nurture that desire in their young people. Anyone who has spent time with a three or four year old knows that humans like to ask questions. In History we are always asking questions about the past and putting the pieces together in an effort to learn the truth. Truth in history can be distorted, and there are many factors that make the truth hard to find. As historians, we usually end up with what we believe is the most realistic version of the truth, based on the evidence we have found.

By comparison, Jesus teaches us that He is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).

It is my hope that our students and community will consider what Jesus teaches us about truth. I believe that His truth is not distorted. Therefore, it is His normal that we can truly find comfort in.