The Least of These . . .

‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’  Matthew 25:40

I've tried to write a blog post about my passion for providing a comparable education for students who don't necessary start out with the same chances as their more affluent counterparts--and I'm always brought back to this scripture.  Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I am "all in" when it comes to fighting to the end for the underdog.  

This post became easier for me to write as I witnessed how taking care of "the least of these" affected my daughter (Chandler) in a very personal way.  You see, she just returned from being a "missionary" at Camp Barnabas (a camp for people with special needs).  She was there for Adult Camper Week and was partnered with a woman who was 50, but due to her mental retardation had a mental age of 3 or 4.  Chandler was responsible for her camper 24-7.  That's a lot of responsibility for a senior-in-high-school-to-be 17 year-old.

To be honest, I really didn't know how her week would go.  Both of our children have never really "wanted" for anything.  My husband and I are both educators, so we aren't flying to Bali on the weekends, but all-in-all, our kids have never seen us struggle.  They have watched us work hard, but we have never struggled.  We have tried to share the lessons we have learned working in public education, but let's be real--how much do we really listen when our parents are "teaching" us . . . I imagine most of our stories have ended up as white noise for our children.

Fast-forward to this past Friday, when we picked Chandler up from Camp Barnabas.  She has talked about it non-stop.  What has stuck with me as her mother is her remark that "It was really hard work, but I knew that this was the only week the campers had all year in which they were the center of attention.  The pure joy and love they expressed was immeasurable.  I did not want to let them down."

Each day in our schools, we have students who count on us, just like Chandler's camper counted on her.  Our students may not be as transparent in their joy and love as the campers at Camp Barnabas, but they need us to be our best for them all the same.

As educators, we all have the opportunity to advocate for those who have no one else to advocate for them.  How do we provide opportunities for them?  What experiences are they missing out on that we take for granted?  Are attendance areas in your school district divided by "good neighborhoods" and "bad neighborhoods"?  Does that set-up serve your community in a positive way, or divide it into the haves and have-nots?  If so, how do we fix it, or should we?

How do you answer these questions--personally and professionally?  I challenge all who read this (probably three people including my mother!) to reflect on how you walk through this life.  The "least of these" need you--I hope you are willing to step up and be there for them because when you do, it makes us all better in the long run--just ask Chandler Grega!