What Did You Learn Today?

Their entire lives, I've home schooled them. From the cradle I've used correct grammar, read to them, and sought to engage their brains in rational and purposeful thought. As toddlers, they were never excused from wrong actions because of their age. Entering into more formal academic education, one of their primary objectives (primary to me, but not necessarily recognized by them) became not so much the math and science; rather learning how to learn and to love to learn.

I'm trying to raise learners.

Learners who can take instruction, follow directions, ask for guidance, dig for truth, rely on the Holy Spirit, respect authority, appropriately question authority, obey trusted authority, assume responsibility over their sphere, their words, their actions. Learners who look at the world through the lens of Jesus and search for the heart of the matter in fairness and truth. Learners who delight not just in knowledge but in understanding, and who pay attention to details that others might miss, striving to respond always with the heart of Jesus.

Lofty goal, I know. But allow me my lofty goals.

Come with me now to last Tuesday. We were on our way to visit with a Burundian refugee family who has been recently relocated here in the Phoenix area from a camp in Tanzania. Our role in their lives is to help them acclimate to American culture and to practice English with them.

As one would expect, the organization repatriating refugees from various countries is not placing them in upper middle class neighborhoods. The journey to our Burundian friends' apartment complex, therefore, leads us through a section of Phoenix that actually causes me to hesitate periodically and ask "Where am I?" As in, what country am I in? This is not a derogatory question, it's sincere. I see enough of another culture(s) around me that I have split second flashes of confusion. At one point, I even had the fleeting thought, "Where's my passport?" (When I'm in Burundi, I always have my passport with me.)

I realize this does not happen to you. That's terrific. It doesn't happen to my own children. That's even more terrific. Because when I ask, "Where are we?" they calmly answer me, and we keep driving. Is it so wrong that this is normal to them?!

That truth revealed about one of my (many personal) 'issues', let's continue down the road to the apartment complex located in the Phoenix suburb of Looks-Like-Mexico-But-There-Are-Burundians-Walking-Down-The-Street-With-Babies-On-Their-Backs-So-WHERE-THE-HECK-AM-I?

We needed to stop at a dollar store for a quick purchase before our visit with our new friends, so when I saw a sign for one, I pulled in. To Mexico. The ground to roof-line bars on the store front tipped me off to the fact that the locals don't consider this area overly safe and secure, and the man with a far-off look in his eye pacing in front of the store spurred me to say to my kids, "Just stay close to me, and pay attention to what's going on around you." They know this drill well, because they go everywhere with me. I've said this to them in Africa, in airports, in cities all across the United States. Shoot, I have to. Child predators swarm through middle class white America.

We walked into the dollar store, which my daughter said reminded her of a grocery store in Burundi, and everyone who saw us paused with a mixture of wary and curious. We walked through the store as though we visit Mexico every day, got what we needed and headed out the door.

The man who had given me pause on the way in now had his back partially toward us, his left hand holding that nostril closed and his right hand raised to his right nostril as he loudly and repeatedly sniffed.

As we headed for the van, I noticed my children lagging behind. I said something I never, ever, ever, never, ever, ever, never expected to say to my children, "Get in the van and away from that man snorting cocaine." (This I said quietly, by the way.)

Once inside our vehicle, we had a little chat about that man and what must his pain be that he has turned to drugs. We're not to judge him for his drug use, but to care about his heart. I told them my haste was due to the fact that drugs render individuals unpredictable, and if he was actually snorting cocaine, that that drug often exhibits in bizarre acts of violence. I just didn't want to be there if that happened. I then proceeded, in response to their questions, to demonstrate how drugs are snorted--which is why I knew the guy was snorting some type of drug (and should they ever find themselves in a situation in which someone is snorting drugs, I want them to be able to recognize what's going on). I clarified with them that I didn't know for sure which drug he was snorting, and that maybe he was just sniffing from a runny nose and not snorting any drug at all...but his whole demeanor made me suspicious and we have to be alert and act accordingly--with wisdom, not fear.

We went on to visit our Burundian friends, teaching them to count in English and playing cards with the kids. And I never gave the Dollar Store Snorting another thought.

Until dinner.

As we sat together as a family, feasting on broccoli & cream cheese pasta with chicken and salad, I asked the kids, "What did you learn today?" We had a morning of school, a great visit with new friends from another country, a drive through town that looks so much like yet another country--so many cultural things to take in and ruminate on. I was waiting for my children to show themselves the deep learners that I tell myself I strive so hard to mold. But no. Their dad nearly choked on his rotini when our daughter said:

"I learned that you actually snort drugs. I didn't know that. I thought you either took pills or shots."

Effective immediately, I resign.