FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: Ah, more than a test

Good week. Welcome to the “Front Porch.”

As I write this early Tuesday morning, many of my kiddos at Ferris High are taking their “EOC” (End of Course test). 

In my return to the classroom after ten years away, I was blessed with receiving a class of young men and women who had fallen a little short on their test in the previous years.

These are juniors. Some fell a bit short on the freshman test, and some fell short on the sophomore test.

In December, eleven of the twenty-three passed one of the tests they needed; and, today, we are working on getting the other twelve or so to excel past it, too.

You may wonder why that would be a blessing.

I think it’s because these young people really need more than perhaps some others need.

When I made that return to the classroom (abruptly in August, with hardly a second thought, I’m not sure why), I knew the Lord had something there for us to do.

I’m still figuring out exactly what that was and is, but I have an idea much of that answer lies somewhere in that room of twenty-three students.

We have another class, too, and the Lord has something in mind there, too, I know.

Since I work only on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I am home today working, writing, and, doing just a little bit of praying. 

But there’s something about tests that I always try to keep in mind.

When you teach – and this is for all teachers – you always strive to teach more than a test.

Your vision must go far beyond some state-written test. Every day you go further, deeper.

You get into the affective and the inward, not just the academic. You teach concepts that will stick with them far beyond life in a building with bells and lunch schedules.

I never want to teach young students to pass a test. I hope to help teach them to excel in all the tests that lie ahead, the tests they will face every day for the rest of their lives.

I don’t know if that is cliche-ish or not, but a teacher has to look beyond that scantron – or, computer, as today’s tests are administered – and their gaze is set further out, like looking out over the ocean and trying somehow to fathom it.

When I walk into my class of twenty-three on these three days, and I look at all the eyes staring back, I don’t think I see what they see.

The fact we don’t see “eye to eye” is why we approach the days differently, in most cases.

Students’ main goal often is to get from that moment when the bell rings to the moment it rings again, and to do so as quickly and painless as possible.

Now, students know that they need to learn and put forth the effort. It’s just that there’s often a big gap between “knowing” and “doing.”

That’s why we have teachers.

There, friends, too, is the joy of walking into the classroom, especially a class of students who doubt their ability to succeed.

Somehow, if you can adjust their eyes closer to seeing the way your eyes see, then you have given them more than just tools to pass a test.

You have started giving them tools to help them every day when they walk out the door to face whatever it is out there for them to face.

In a few weeks, we will get the scores back from the tests my kiddos are taking right this moment. As I write, they are milling their way into the room, getting seated, taking a deep breath, and about to take off on this test.

They don’t know there’s an old fella fifteen miles to the west praying really hard that they’ll do well – not just because I want them to pass a test, but because I want them to feel what it feels like to rise up to a challenge and defeat it.

I shared with them the old western movie “Shane” recently and had them write about some of its great themes.

At the end of the movie, Alan Ladd, who is Shane, walks into the saloon to face Jack Wilson, the gunfighter, and they stand face to face.

Shane tells Wilson in a calm, even voice, “I’ve heard about you.”

Wilson replies, in a cocky voice that matches the grin on his face, “What have you heard, Shane?”

Shane pauses, steps up, drops his arm down by his holster, and, without a smile says, “I’ve heard you’re a low-down, Yankee liar.”

The kids like that part.

You’ll have to watch the next moment for yourself. I won’t spoil it for you.

I thought of that scene this week and told these young men and women that when they sit down to face that test, they need to look it square in the eye and say like the great Alan Ladd, “You’re nuttin’ but a lowdown, Yankee liar,” and proceed to whip the britches off of that test.

Then, when they do, I think that when I walk in the room and look out over those young faces, I will see a group of young men and women who have figured out something that I’ve wanted them to know all along.

That test they took – well, it is a bit more than a test. 

It was something they had to whip,  just like Shane whipped the gunfighter. With that behind them, now they can get about their business of laying it on all the other tests that they will face, with the Lord’s help.

I say all of that, but, still, as I sit here on this Tuesday test day, looking out eastward from my study, l still say a little prayer.

That, alone, tells us, it must be more than a test.

Coach Steven Bowen, a long-time Red Oak teacher and coach, now enjoys his time as a full-time writer and preacher of the gospel. In addition to his evangelistic travels, he works and writes for the Church of Christ of Red Oak at Uhl Road and Ovilla. Their worship times are 10 a.m. Sundays and 7:30 pm. Wednesdays. Email coachbowen1984@gmail.com or call or text (972) 824-5197.