Ringing of the Bells
“And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.” ~1 Corinthians 13:2
About a year ago, before I left home, without a doubt the most frequent thing said to me in reference to my upcoming task to teach English in Prague was this: “Maybe you’ll meet your future husband overseas.” I tried to sort of defend myself and affirm that my reason for going overseas was not to get married, nor would I probably have the time for such things, and that I would return home- single- just as I left. I heard this comment so much, that after awhile I stopped saying anything in response because I felt it was useless to try and explain.
I truly hate to disappoint people, but so far I am still single, and I don’t think much will change in my last month-and-a-half here. But what I want to tell the world is this: I have fallen in love. And not just once, but over and over again.
Perhaps it’s not the love that many hoped I’d find- the kind that results in a ring and a vow. Perhaps that “special someone” has not yet crept into my life… but I am not at a loss when it comes to love.
With love, however, comes pain… at least, for me. God made my heart deep and wide; I love wildly and fiercely, with unswerving devotion. So when the time comes for me to separate from those I love, I feel it.
I’ve already begun saying goodbye to some of my students. My fourth year students, or seniors if they were in the US, just completed their last day of school, in a celebration known as, “Ringing of the Bells”. There are some strange traditions wrapped up in this event, which as far as I have heard, are pretty consistent among schools in the Czech. At the very beginning of the day, the 4th year students stand at the entrance of the school with water guns and spray the lower classmen and even teachers as they walk by. They also stamp people. It really is strange when you think about it. I didn’t know what to expect. My students warned me about getting wet, but with their limited English they made it sound as though buckets of water would be dumped on my head, and I was told they “stick things on you”, and I should really dress in casual clothing. I arrived at school, prepared for tidal waves of water to be splashed on me; I was happy to be met with only one water gun pointed at me and with only a light spray from my student Kuba, who I threatened, “Don’t even think about it.” Then, one of my other students began chasing me and yelling, “Scianna, Scianna,” and I still don’t know who it was. I felt something on my face, and when I at last looked into the mirror I found a little stamp of a monkey. All of this is really meant in good, innocent fun and it is not meant to be harmful to anyone.
These are the pretty traditional things. Then, the students are free to put on a performance or set up some activities that involve the whole school. This year, the students created a little carnival outside, with little games set up. I was invited to play a few (and I did pretty good, I might add), and I was really enjoying seeing my students have fun.
The last traditional event of the day is the ringing of the bells. After the celebration and the lessons continue, the 4th year students walk around the hallway ringing bells, thus symbolizing their last school bell. I wasn’t prepared for what came next. As I was in class, three boys from my 4E class opened my door and beckoned me to come outside. I hesitated and poked my head out, really expecting a bucket of water, but the little darlings were holding a tulip, and speaking in their cute English, thanking me for being their teacher this year. Even though this is procedure, and a thank you is given to every teacher, I couldn’t help but melt on the spot.
I thought it was finally all over, but when I returned to my office, I heard another knock on my door. This time it was my 4A girls, bringing me a rose, offering their words of gratitude, and then giving me applause. I must say, I’ve never been thanked like this in all my life. Again, my heart melted.
As we celebrated the departure of this graduating class, and I have started saying some goodbyes, I am reminded that my own departure is fast approaching. I must confess that I was never good at goodbyes, and I really don’t know how to walk away from these precious students that I love. There is an ache in my heart, and try as I may to ignore it, it persists. My student Jan from 4C summed up what I was feeling after my last class with him, “We don’t have to say goodbye to you now, do we? We will see you again before you leave, right?”
If I had any more love in my heart, it would probably burst.
About a year ago, before I left home, without a doubt the most frequent thing said to me in reference to my upcoming task to teach English in Prague was this: “Maybe you’ll meet your future husband overseas.” I tried to sort of defend myself and affirm that my reason for going overseas was not to get married, nor would I probably have the time for such things, and that I would return home- single- just as I left. I heard this comment so much, that after awhile I stopped saying anything in response because I felt it was useless to try and explain.
I truly hate to disappoint people, but so far I am still single, and I don’t think much will change in my last month-and-a-half here. But what I want to tell the world is this: I have fallen in love. And not just once, but over and over again.
Perhaps it’s not the love that many hoped I’d find- the kind that results in a ring and a vow. Perhaps that “special someone” has not yet crept into my life… but I am not at a loss when it comes to love.
With love, however, comes pain… at least, for me. God made my heart deep and wide; I love wildly and fiercely, with unswerving devotion. So when the time comes for me to separate from those I love, I feel it.
I’ve already begun saying goodbye to some of my students. My fourth year students, or seniors if they were in the US, just completed their last day of school, in a celebration known as, “Ringing of the Bells”. There are some strange traditions wrapped up in this event, which as far as I have heard, are pretty consistent among schools in the Czech. At the very beginning of the day, the 4th year students stand at the entrance of the school with water guns and spray the lower classmen and even teachers as they walk by. They also stamp people. It really is strange when you think about it. I didn’t know what to expect. My students warned me about getting wet, but with their limited English they made it sound as though buckets of water would be dumped on my head, and I was told they “stick things on you”, and I should really dress in casual clothing. I arrived at school, prepared for tidal waves of water to be splashed on me; I was happy to be met with only one water gun pointed at me and with only a light spray from my student Kuba, who I threatened, “Don’t even think about it.” Then, one of my other students began chasing me and yelling, “Scianna, Scianna,” and I still don’t know who it was. I felt something on my face, and when I at last looked into the mirror I found a little stamp of a monkey. All of this is really meant in good, innocent fun and it is not meant to be harmful to anyone.
These are the pretty traditional things. Then, the students are free to put on a performance or set up some activities that involve the whole school. This year, the students created a little carnival outside, with little games set up. I was invited to play a few (and I did pretty good, I might add), and I was really enjoying seeing my students have fun.
The last traditional event of the day is the ringing of the bells. After the celebration and the lessons continue, the 4th year students walk around the hallway ringing bells, thus symbolizing their last school bell. I wasn’t prepared for what came next. As I was in class, three boys from my 4E class opened my door and beckoned me to come outside. I hesitated and poked my head out, really expecting a bucket of water, but the little darlings were holding a tulip, and speaking in their cute English, thanking me for being their teacher this year. Even though this is procedure, and a thank you is given to every teacher, I couldn’t help but melt on the spot.
I thought it was finally all over, but when I returned to my office, I heard another knock on my door. This time it was my 4A girls, bringing me a rose, offering their words of gratitude, and then giving me applause. I must say, I’ve never been thanked like this in all my life. Again, my heart melted.
As we celebrated the departure of this graduating class, and I have started saying some goodbyes, I am reminded that my own departure is fast approaching. I must confess that I was never good at goodbyes, and I really don’t know how to walk away from these precious students that I love. There is an ache in my heart, and try as I may to ignore it, it persists. My student Jan from 4C summed up what I was feeling after my last class with him, “We don’t have to say goodbye to you now, do we? We will see you again before you leave, right?”
If I had any more love in my heart, it would probably burst.
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