A Jovial Teacher Is A Free Teacher.
I remember in my second year at the Bible College, I had become confident as a Sunday school teacher; I taught the same lesson in every congregation I was invited to teach. Why, you may ask? I promised myself to teach that lesson and master it until I could teach another lesson effectively. I was a theology student well on my way to attaining my BA; I was a servant, a worker in the vineyard of the Lord. I took what I did seriously; I was a Sunday school teacher; I was cultivating the future generation of the church.
I was serious about what I did; I made sure I dotted my I’s and crossed all my T’s all the time. I tend to take everything I do seriously, and I guess that’s why I am such a perfectionist. I had been working with different congregations at that time. Fortunately, a good friend and a former student at the college offered me and some of my classmates an opportunity to work part-time at the congregation he was working with.
We were beyond pleased; we jumped at the opportunity. The congregation is based in a location east of Johannesburg; getting there was no issue, and getting back to college was sorted because the brother picked us up and dropped us off.
I remember my first Sunday at the congregation like it was yesterday; it was an “Aha” moment for me. I had prepared all week; I had crafts, worksheets, and some finger puppets I had made out of paper. It wasn’t just about being prepared, but it was about proving to myself that I could apply what I was learning from the college.
I was all dressed up, hair done, in a jeans, shirt, and high heels, and all my Sunday school material was in place. I was prepared; I was so ready; I was doing practicals, and this was the time to apply what I had learnt.
We drove up to a house, a decent-looking house; I remember being there before twice; they had hosted an evangelism campaign. Ooh great, I thought we were there to pick up someone, no! I saw everyone get off; we went in, and it seemed as though it were a house church. They introduced me to the congregation as the new Sunday school teacher, and they told me my class was outside under the tree.
I went outside; the kids sat on crates. I thought, let me teach them to sing and play since we can’t colour in or do crafts; there was no stationery or tables for that matter. I was extremely nervous; there were 3 little kids standing in front of me; their eyes were wide with wonder. I introduced myself to them, and they introduced themselves to me.
We began singing, and I suggested teaching them “Making Melodies in My Heart.". As I was singing and doing the actions to the song, for some reason my hair extension fell right off my head and onto the ground. My goodness, I was so embarrassed; I wanted to hide. The kids stared right at me, and it was dead silent for a minute or so, and a sudden burst of laughter broke forth from the kids. I felt so sad, and I wondered if I hadn’t been in their position, wouldn’t I have laughed too? I too broke out in laughter, picked up the hair extension, dusted it off, and clipped it back onto my head.
Believe me, ever since, I've always made sure my hair extensions were secure. If you think that’s worse. I remember a couple of years ago, my dad came home from one of his conferences from work, and he’d usually come home with cool stuff: carrier bags, mugs, cups, bottles, pens, and notebooks.
There is this one particular carrier bag my mom and I used to fight over. I liked it because I could put all my Sunday school stuff in it on Sundays. One time I noticed my mom stopped using it; I was so excited, I packed all my Sunday school things in the bag, and I was ready to rumble for Sunday school.
Obviously, I carried my Sunday school stuff in the bag to church. I wondered why people at church were giving me funny looks that Sunday; I kept thinking there was something wrong with me. Anyway, I got home, and as I walked in, my mom gave me a shocked look. “She asked, ‘Did you take that bag to church?’’ I thought, wow, there we go again. I answered, “Yes, why?’’. She smiled and asked me what was written on the bag.
I sat down, and I realised I never cared to read what was written on the bag, and my mom asked me to read it slowly. I read it carefully and slowly…and it read, V I A G R A. As it registered in my mind, I felt so embarrassed, and it made sense why everyone had been giving me such strange looks. I mean, the Sunday school teacher's bag had that written on it in large white caps.
I just laughed, and my mom and I broke into laughter. I couldn’t help it; there was nothing I could do at that point. I know, to read everything I wear and every bag I carry now, thank you very much.
A Jovial Sunday School Teacher, Is A Free Teacher; I say this because we will have a lot of embarrassing moments on our own and even where everyone can see. Live and learn; every experience is a lesson in life. Do not take yourself so seriously; laugh at yourself and keep it moving. Yes, being a Sunday school teacher is one hundred percent serious work, but let your hair down. When you are free, your kids will be free with you, and they’ll be free in your class. When we are jovial, we spread that joy and freedom with our Sunday school kids’. Have fun, teacher; let your hair down and enjoy yourself.




