By John T. Maempa
A cool bite in the late August air signaled the end of summer vacation
in the Idaho mountain valley where I grew up. Soon Mom and I would
be off to town to buy a couple pairs of stiff blue jeans with plenty
of growing room. And, maybe some new shoes. Add a pack of pencils
and a box of crayons, and I was set. All that remained was to pull
my cowboy lunch box and thermos from summer storage. Mom always made
sure I had a hearty lunch.
With pants legs rolled up, I was off to school.
None of us had to check our toy guns at the door, but we did have
to keep them inside our desks. We could strap them on at recess or
lunch for a lively round of crime fighting or a Wild West showdown.
An unthinkable travesty would be to discharge a cap gun during class.
The reprimand would be harsh; and worse, the gun could be confiscated
for the rest of the day or longer.
And so went the trials of life in my early school years.
Things are different — a lot different — for students and
teachers who live and work amid the brick-and-concrete environs of
the inner city, far removed from the quiet Idaho farm community. I
spoke with six teachers who serve inner-city schools in the Kansas
City, Mo., school district — Gary and Vickie Sperling, Sandra
Cherry, Robert Ontman, Jim Borden and J.W. and Ernestine Scott. All
are members of Sheffield Family Life Center (Assemblies of God), George
Westlake, pastor.
Kansas City ranks in the top third in population among our nation’s
100 largest cities. There teachers interact with black, white, Hispanic
and Asian students. Faced with beleaguered futures, trapped by circumstances
that seem beyond their ability to change, many students are just trying
to get from one day to the next. Others are holding onto hope for
something better.
Ironically, in our land of plenty, hunger is a common denominator
among many inner-city students.
"It’s a very real problem," says Sandra Cherry, who
has taught for 24 years. "Every child wants to learn. But before
they can learn, we have to help meet their physical needs." A
government-sponsored breakfast and lunch program provides nourishment
for Kansas City’s inner-city students.
"Attendance is better because of the food programs," say
long-term elementary and preschool teachers, Gary and Vickie Sperling.
Without the feeding programs, many of the children and youth would
have little to eat; and without proper nutrition, learning is difficult.
Violence at home and in the neighborhood also ranks high among the
concerns for inner-city children and families.
"Most of my children have been touched by violence," says
Vickie. "Many have family members who are incarcerated."
Exposure to so much violence affects the children’s outlook.
Gary Sperling notes that while some have definite goals and dreams
for their futures, others have a short sense of life span. "So
many know of or have witnessed killing or wounding. In one class of
25 students that I taught, 17 knew of a close relative or friend who
had been shot. Three or four of the children themselves carried bullet
wounds."
A drug house, once located across the street from the school where
Sandra Cherry teaches, was a hotbed of violence. During recess one
day, children dug bullets out of the school’s windowpanes. "Some
of the children sleep in their bathtubs to protect themselves from
drive-by shootings," says Jim Borden.
Not only do many children come to school hungry; they are tired from
trying to survive at home, school and on the streets. School for some
is a safer haven than home, and the children sometimes don’t
want to leave.
"Some children cry because they don’t want to go home,"
says Vickie Sperling. "I have had to literally carry children
screaming and crying out to the buses. School offers a sense of stability
and safety."
Problems for students and teachers alike are heightened by a lack
of parental involvement. Coming from single-parent families or blended
families, many children have little sense of stability.
"Out of nearly 30 students in one of my classes, only two or
three had both birth parents," says Jim Borden.
"Most of the time when I call a home, I talk to a grandparent
or an aunt," says Gary Sperling. "For the most part, parents
have little interaction with their children. Those who do interact
have significantly less problems with their children."
"So many children live in a constant state of hopelessness and
despair because they receive so little care and attention," says
Jim Borden. "Often they are left to themselves, to TV, to video
games."
Little involvement by parents has not always been the case. J.W.
and Ernestine Scott, both retired after some 40 years of teaching
in the inner city, remember a time when the worst threat they could
make was to tell a student they would call his or her parents.
"I knew their parents, and the children knew that too,"
says J.W., who served many years as a principal. "They didn’t
want me to call. But today if you call the parents, they are likely
to ask, ‘What have you done to my child?’ "
Amid circumstances like these, why do talented teachers choose to
work in the inner city? Why not move to the safer environs of the
suburbs?
"If we take the salt and light out of public schools, we’ve
doomed them already," says Gary Sperling, who is in his 19th
year of teaching. There is a sense of purpose and destiny among the
Christian teachers who have chosen to stay for the long term.
"One interested adult can make all the difference in the world,"
according to Robert Ontman, who teaches high school. "The students
need accountability. They’re not dumb or inferior. They just
need someone who will make sure they’re doing the things they
should be doing. So many kids just want to go along with the crowd."
Though there are restrictions against overt religious activity in
public schools, Christian teachers are able to make a difference both
privately and openly.
"For the past five years or so, I’ve gone to the school
on off hours to walk and pray," says Jim Borden. "I’ve
seen some spiritual breakthroughs." Other teachers at Jim’s
school are banding with him for prayer. Some had met for prayer at
Jim’s home the night before the interview.
Sandra Cherry also finds strength in joining others in prayer. Just
prior to our conversation she spoke with her intercessory prayer partner.
Both are praying and fasting for their students.
Gary Sperling believes prayer made a powerful inroad into enemy territory
when he encountered a girl with a behavior disorder.
"Some days she would be a terror. I finally got her to sit in
a chair isolated from the other children when she first came in to
class. If she would stay calm for five minutes, she could join with
some friends and work with them.
"One day when she first came in, she was having a really rough
time. She fell to the floor and caused all kinds of havoc. Then, at
one point, she turned and looked at me, and I saw something unusual
in her eyes.
"After the bell rang and the class was settled in, I stepped
out into the hall and prayed silently, Satan, I rebuke you in the
name of Jesus. Get out of this room and out of my class. I went back
in and started to take roll. The girl was busy doing something. Suddenly,
she just stopped, turned around, stared at me and said, ‘Jesus,
He’s a big dude.’ Then she turned back around and went to
work. I know there was no way she could have heard my prayer in the
hallway."
Whether engaging in warfare prayer or interceding quietly on behalf
of their students, Christian teachers amid the brick and concrete
of the inner city are trying to make a difference. As a source of
comfort, assurance and love, many children confide in them. This helps
the teachers know they are where God wants them to be — teaching
and touching lives with the love of Christ.
John T. Maempa is special projects coordinator
for the Office of Public Relations.
