Fifteen years ago, a friend paid for me to travel with him to England to attend the funeral of a former teacher whom we had studied under during our college days.  On the flight back  home to the U.S., I jotted down some of my thoughts about the experience.

One of the most reflective times of the trip came during a service at a 900-year-old Anglican church, known as Cartmel Priory.  Though not raised in that denomination, I have always had a love for the liturgy, as well as the architecture of Episcopal and Anglican churches. Whether housed in  a  humble dwelling with a red front door,  or a grand stone edifice with flying buttresses, their buildings are usually an extension of a belief in the creativity and dignity of God.

The Cartmel Priory in England reawakened the mystic in me. Walking on stone floors that had been smoothed by the saints of nine centuries was a catharsis of sorts. When I had left the States to travel to the funeral, little did I know the unexpected sights and sounds that would feed my teacher’s soul. The countless sheep grazing in the frosted green pastures, the  happy chiming of the bells in the village churches, the doleful bagpipes played at the graveside service, the benediction of snow falling during a short venture to  the Lake District, and the sacred  music of a Salvation Army band playing Christmas  carols all felt more like a movie than reality.

I find that the expectations of life are the hardest to deal with at times. We expect a job to meet our needs financially and emotionally, and yet the initial enthusiasm and excitement may eventually dissipate. The job may bring joy, but it invariably delivers pain somewhere along the way. Only when the pain or stress outweighs the joy do we normally seek a new position, because we can’t take it any longer.

Based on that premise, the reason I love being a teacher is not because of the expectations, for they, more often than not, bring discouragement and discontentment. I’ve come to relish some of  the  unexpected events that happen frequently. (Remember, I said, “some” of the unexpected events — not all. I’m not that mature.) Although  there is comfort and security in a schedule, and the unexpected can often spell disaster, such as  when  the Internet goes down or the projector doesn’t  work, I’ve found I always get through those days when I thought I wouldn’t make it. That’s when I’m thankful for wonderful co-workers and caring administrators who understand when teachers hit the wall in the middle of the day due to some “unforeseen circumstance.” All teachers know what that can be. We just fill in the blank with something we’ve experienced before. That’s when we know the philosophy of  the survival of the fittest applies to schools and not just to nature!

But occasionally, the “positive unexpected” happens. A whole class —give or take a couple of kids — makes a good grade on a challenging test. We wonder how that happened. Did they study, or did they really take notes during that unit? And not only that, but their discussion answers showed a sense of emerging maturity and thoughtfulness, all while using complete sentences. Tears appear in your eyes before you can turn off the faucet of your soul. You realize that same “faucet” has poured forth other tears on a few occasions due to that same class doing miserably on similar assessments or showing no sense of concern over learning anything.  You suddenly acknowledge that God does still perform miracles in a fallen world and it’s then that you realize your classroom has become a sacred place, your very own sanctuary of sorts. Teaching has become a holy thing, almost a religious experience, because  you’ve witnessed not merely a transfer of knowledge, but a discovery of knowledge a student never knew he or she had.

Your heart kneels on the bench of your soul and you actually feel a supernatural power at work in your little cathedral, where other teaching saints have gone before, and whose prayers are still being answered through the unexpected happenings in your classroom today.

Larry Efird teaches at A.L. Brown High School in Kannapolis.