Tears were running down her face, and it was all my fault. I didn’t intend for this to happen, for my 8th grade french 1 teacher, who just so happened to be 7 months pregnant, to cry in front of the class. It was almost if it happened naturally. Something out of my control.
The injustice of the situation was what lead my naturally passionate and stubborn self to push back so hard against my teacher. My whole life I have been very respectful of authority, nearly to the point of being afraid. The only desire that proved to be stronger than my desire to be liked, was my desire to stand up against something I believed to be strongly to be wrong.
“Pop quiz today. It is not multiple choice and spelling does count. The quiz will be over the vocabulary you’ve recently learned. I did not tell you so that I can get an accurate assessment of where you are at,” My teacher informed us.
Angered flared through the whole class. We were about to receive grades on content we knew we did not have nearly enough knowledge to pass. This was the two months into our first year of French. We were all just 13 years old. The very strong backlash of the class was already enough to bring my teach to a state of anger that matched ours.
“This is why the French school system is so much greater than the American public education system. This is why French children are, on average, more educated than American kids.” I couldn’t even hear what else she was saying. She continued to elaborate on the previous statement and poked farther at the anger towards injustice that was burning in my stomach. To the point that I could not control what happened next.
I stood up, appearing way more calm and collected than I felt. “Well, you know what they can’t do in France that we can do in America? You know what we have that they don’t? Rights. And I refuse to take this quiz. I’ll take the punishment, but I am not taking that quiz.” What was also out of my control was the events that followed next. A couple other kids stood up with me. Nearly the entire class refused to take the quiz.
There’s one thing I had even at 12 years old that I was completely unaware of. Influence. For better or for worse, I unknowingly turned an entire class of middle school kids against their teacher. The crazy part, I wasn’t even trying. And what did it result in? Hurt. Pain. Tears. It was the only time I received an email home to my mom, and I was rid with guilt.
A lot of my life contains stories just like this one. Situations that I spoke out or stood up against, and my friends, family and acquaintances got hurt. On many occasions I’ve been told I was intimidating, domineering, and outspoken. More often than not, those all had a negative connotation that followed. With that, I began to believe a lie that who I was, hurt people.
The interesting thing is that all I was doing was utilizing the gifts that the Lord had given me. My entire life, I’ve carried a sword that I didn’t know how to wield. I believed that sword to be a bad thing, and I put it down. One thing that I have learned is this. “If the devil can not make you to be a destructive force, he will do everything he can to make you a passive one.” You have your gifts regardless of what you choose to do with them. And if you don’t use them for the kingdom, there’s a good chance Satan is using them for death.
For the first time in my life, I am picking up my sword again. My field leadership track has allowed me a space to be myself, and struggle to find who that really is. They call me out, give me feedback, challenge my ideas, and see things in me that I can’t see in myself. Alex, one of my friends, helped me to realize that my fear of what might happen if I begin to use my sword is hindering what actually could happen for the kingdom of God.
I’ve also learned that intimidation speaks more to the insecurities of the person labeling you as that, than it speaks to who you are. Remember that. And or what it’s worth, in my memory at least, we never had to take that french pop quiz all those years ago. 😉
