People are often impressed when I tell them that I have students from all over the world in my Spanish classes here at Ignite Christian Academy. It is amazing to me as well when I stop and think about it. Coming from seven years of teaching in a traditional school, it is a bit strange to get used to never seeing my students. Some send family pictures, and some have projects that involve pictures of themselves. So we ICA teachers can sometimes picture our students. We get to know some students over the phone when they call in, through messages, or through the SOO chat feature, but meeting a student in the flesh is quite exciting for us here.
This fall we had a treat here at the academy; one of our students came to visit. A couple months before her visit, she mentioned in a message that she would be in Minneapolis toward the beginning of November to get a van that was adapted for her wheelchair. I said that since Minneapolis is only four hours from us, she and her parents should come to visit. She said that she would and plans started to go forward. We chatted a bit, and when asked about handicapped parking spots, I told her that I would park in them the day she came to visit. We bantered back and forth. Dates changed a little, but eventually, at the beginning of November, Camille showed up here at ICA with her parents and we got to meet her and her parents in person.
When Camille arrived, word quickly spread to all the teachers. Like sharks in a feeding frenzy or children to a taffy pull, we moved toward the poor, unfortunate, unsuspecting student. We became victims to some inexorable force of nature. Nothing stood in our way. Friends and colleagues were trampled and walls pushed down in ruin in our effort to meet Camille. Soon she was surrounded by faculty members milling around, all wanting to see and speak to the anomaly that we affectionately call "a real student."
Okay, I'm exaggerating a bit, but it is exciting when a student comes to visit us. To finally see the person who goes with the voice on the phone or the messages on the computer, to see the sparkle in Camille's eyes, to experience more directly and more fully who she is, is a thrill. I know that Camille was also thrilled to finally see her teachers, to see the sparkle in our eyes, to experience more directly and fully who we are.
Camille, in all her quick humor, in all her spunky tenacity to succeed despite her cerebral palsy (which I would not have known about had she not told me in a message), was embodied to us. We, her teachers, in all our academic, affable, inspiring selves were embodied to her. In some ways we were incarnated to each other. What had previously been only written words or perhaps voices suddenly became flesh to us. That was an exciting experience.
This is a very small reflection of Christmas. Before Christmas, God is only a word to us. Before Christmas, God is only a voice. Before Christmas, God is hard to relate to. At Christmas, this Word, this Voice is embodied for us. This Word, this Voice, is made flesh for us. Now we can come to a better understanding of who God really is. That is beyond a treat like Camille visiting. It is almost beyond giving thanks. It is exciting. It is inspiring. It is life-giving.
Merry Christmas to all, and thank you Camille, Julie, and Bill for visiting.