When the Children of Lucre Spied a Teacher in Their Midst

Michael shares a journal entry:

I knew. I knew from the time I began watching TV, the first time I watched the weather, that I was going to be a meteorologist.

My fascination with weather began with snow. If it snowed, there might be no school. The day before a storm I would watch the weather reports on TV at 5, 6 and 9. My interest in snow quickly turned into a general fascination with weather.

That goal began to fade two and a half years into my meteorology studies at the University of Kansas, and I needed a change. I ended up transferring to Goshen College and settling on elementary education as a major, mostly due to my experience working at a summer camp.

Yet things have not been perfect. I often times am unsure if teaching is really what I should be doing. Many of the other students in my education classes have wanted to be teachers since they were young, just as I had wanted to be a meteorologist. Here I am, though, with student teaching looming, and I still have my doubts.

In Lucre, though, something happened. I was not expecting that a place where I stayed for a day and two nights on our way to Machu Picchu would have much of a personal impact. And it very easily might not have, to be honest. This little self-sufficient town certainly reminded me of my own good old little Hesston, Kan., with about the same number of people: 4,000.

In any event, a seemingly miniscule event made me feel as if I were receiving some sort of grand affirmation from the children of Lucre.

David and I and several other SSTers, together with their host families, were all walking home from celebrating the 74th anniversary of Lucre. As we walked, the children of the families were running around and gawking at us old folk as if to say, “Come on, have some fun.” Well, I wasn’t about to be left out, so I raced one boy up the road, and then pretended to  pull a hamstring.

Then a bunch of kids ran up, and I tried to teach them the triple jump: a hop, a skip and a jump. This turned into running, jumping, kicking our legs high, just doing whatever we were capable of. At one point a game of tag broke out.

This really shouldn’t have been a big deal. I just had some fun running around with kids from Lucre. But the longer I thought about the experience, the more I felt a calming presence. It was as if an answer had come, a confirmation: I really should be working with kids, in some form, for a living.

Never before had I felt such a sense of affirmation. At times in the past people might have said, “Wow, Michael, kids like you” or words to that effect. Yet this felt different, much deeper, and for whatever reason more significant.

All I can do is be thankful for the experience, thankful for the kids of Lucre, and, who knows, maybe teaching down here in Peru can wriggle its way into my future.