Fruits of Goodness

Sunday morning I became an official Sunday School Teacher. No, there is no badge of honor, trophy, or official document to hang on the wall.  I do receive the joy of being around children, learn to lead them, and play fun games. Oh, and I get to color.

The week before had been the training time. I was the helper and also observed the teacher to know what to do the following week.  As the observer, it looked so easy.  I saw what could be done better, how to get them more involved, and how much fun I was going to be for the kids.  I would waltz in the following Sunday morning and have them captivated and spell-bound for an hour. I would not push my philosophy down any tiny throats but rather have them so enchanted with what I we talked about that they would simply absorb the message of "Fruits of Goodness".  The little sponges of knowledge would leave after an hour with me and become the healthy beautiful gifts of God/Goddess that we all know them to be.

Well, I did a pretty good job, but I don't think anyone was transformed or even mystified by my presence.

What I had hoped to accomplish was to stop the trite automated answers that I often see children giving to adults.  For example, ask an eight-year-old what is something kind that she can do for her little sister. The child will tell you that she could share her ice cream or give her sister a hug when she is crying. That sounds so sweet, that any adult will feel good about the words given.

But fifteen minutes later when the sisters are coloring and the younger one wants the blue marker that the older sister has, watch for 'no-way-I'm-going-to-share-with-you-look' and a possible kick under the table.  That is the reality of children.  The sweet stuff they generally lay on so thickly in Sunday School is just a front to divert the attention of adults from their true nature.

But my class was going to bypass the bullshit and just say honest things. Because I am just that good.

Oh, I was so naive.

After putting the kids into a circle, we all said our favorite animal, and acted each of them out together. That part was fun. Then, with my magic and charm and charisma, we would all say what good thing we could do for the animal.  In my mind, this was brilliance.  But those little buggers were too quick for my ego. They dazzled me with sophisticated answers about cleaning the earth of pollution in order to be good to the animals. As soon as they had thrown me the biscuit that I was so gullible to believe, they ran off to color the really cool wooden animal cut-outs.

It was then that I realized that I had just been scammed by the best.  The darlings had told me what I wanted to hear so they could be done with the lesson and I could feel good about what I had taught them.  They were so smooth, I almost didn't catch on to the fact that I had been swindled of actually making a difference in their lives.

The reality is, kids just want to have fun. No matter how much we want to sneak in a lesson or a message about the Goodness of God/Goddess/Universe, they want to enjoy life and not learn about it from an adult.  They want to play.  And, when I think about it, I'm down for that.

Heather Leigh