I taught again today. I considered beginning the class with something like, “Welcome to another episode of The Hoarse Whisperer” but I thought better of it. I can’t afford to use up my voice on jokes, as tempting as it is. Besides, I try hard to downplay my limitations, in deference to the lesson material. (Also, play-on-words jokes don’t go over so well when, well, you struggle to talk. People are expecting something more valuable or meaningful than self-deprecating humor.)
I feel that it went better this time than last. I admit that I expended an inordinate amount of worry this past month. Kara feels that the worry makes all my symptoms worse. There may be a correlation between anxiety and symptoms, I’m not sure, but there is definitely a link going the opposite direction. (i.e., When I feel a wave of fatigue or it gets really hard to talk I worry about how I can teach.) Kara says, “Why are you worried? I can hear you fine.” I appreciate the encouragement but when she says this, it’s one-on-one, she is five feet away, and I have said maybe 20 words.
But today it was fine. I mean, I’m not the next American Idol or anything, and it was very hard, but I had a little clip-on mike and I made it through. I was audible enough. (Simon would have grilled me but Paula would have had kind words.)
I realized this week that I will never get a memo saying, “Yeah, about Sunday, you’re not going to be able to do it.” All I can do is prepare to teach, replacing thoughts of fear with thoughts of faith, and just do my best.
Besides, it’s just a class. And it’s not like it’s a tough crowd; they are all my friends and will do whatever they can to make the class a success.
5 comments:
Funny story: I actually had a nightmare about enrichment last night. Let's all stop worrying about our callings!
What superb timing you have with these blog entries!
My biggest success came from experiencing a similar situation - teaching Gospel Doctrine, with an intermittent arm.
It was a powerful gift to make peace with my illusion of control, and my delusion that other people were somehow negatively affected by my disability.
The short story - it finally allowed me to "take no thought for (my) your life" as I made my meager offering. As I forgot my life, my maladies became less afflicting. Easy to say. Hard to do.
Thank you for the post.
Aselin - we've never met but you SO get it. You understand. Yesterday I considered that I had no room for pride, check it at the door. I would do my best and if I made a fool of myself, so be it. All I could so was try.
After the lesson I realized that clearly I was the person most cognizant of my limitations. By far. It was a big deal to me alone. Sure they noticed the vocal strain and the careful and deliberate way I walked around the table, but no one was scoffing. In fact, had I stumbled I'm sure there would have been ten people there to help me up and another ten delivering meals the next week.
And in truth, it was a meager offering. I mean, it was the best I could do but it is just a Sunday school class, after all! I know it sounds trite, but I know I am learning more than I am teaching.
My guess is that you have no idea how much you are really teaching your class simply by being there. I would love to be in your class, but I am one of your biggest fans.
btw Aselin's blog is worth checking out. Really good writer!
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