Out on a Ledge and Other Teachable Moments

By Sandra Still with Elizabeth M. Roberts

Ledges can be hazardous places-but the view! It's a place where God can get our attention or a place where we can fall. The results of being out on a ledge often depend on how we react.

So come, join me on various ledges of life, and let us explore and ponder those teachable moments.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638445296

Book preview

Outside In

Here I sit within your midst

from the outside looking in.

I hear your words as they are spoken.

Your beings, I can touch.

My presence here seems too illusive,

my words seem so absurd.

I want to sit and talk awhile.

My mouth, it just stays shut.

For you have things in common

to laugh and talk about.

As I just sit and listen,

looking inside from the out.

My heart cries, I’m here, I’m real,

but still you do not hear

to see or even realize

how truly bad I feel.

An outcast? An outsider?

No, you don’t deliberately

keep me outside looking in,

though friends are friends,

pals are pals,

and where do I fit in?

Is there a space for me somewhere?

Or shall I remain outside ever looking in?

—Elizabeth M. Roberts

Out on a Ledge

For I am about to fall, and my pain is ever with me.

—Psalm 38:17

I have no idea if he would have jumped to the concrete three stories down, that lovable but erratic student of mine. Personally, I think not because he had a happy-go-lucky, joie de vivre, loves-life personality. However, he might well have, in his exhilaration, decided to do something stupid like tap dance on the edge and fallen from a classroom three stories high down onto the cement slab.

The building design was partly at fault. Who installs long, tall, easily opened windows with no guard bars facing onto a narrow ledge in a high school—windows a young person could easily step out of? Obviously, the designers did not consult with school personnel who know and work with teenagers. Regardless, this particular youngster had a history of being a challenge. He was one likable young man who volunteered with the local fire department as a student cadet. They helped instill respect and discipline in him, and he contributed his basically fearless personality and youthful energy.

He was not, however, particularly school oriented. Sitting still at a desk and working with pen and paper made no sense to him. Occasionally, the boredom of English, math, or history would sweep over him, at which point he would head to the back of the room, stretch out on the carpeted floor, and go to sleep. Instructions from the special education and guidance departments were to just leave him be, and the one-on-one tutor would catch him up on whatever needed doing. That way, the class at large could proceed peacefully, and others could learn. The semester progressed well overall, and life was good until the day I absolutely had to be out. Worse yet, neither of my two tried and true substitute teachers whom I could rely on were available. They knew my unique young man and managed him well, staying calm and not pushing him. With a fair amount of trepidation, I went on with my plans to be absent.

According to reports, my young fireman was his usual lovable self, but his noncompliance did not sit well with the substitute who attempted to maintain classroom order by issuing commands and being authoritarian. Things rapidly escalated despite the other students trying to explain how to deal with the situation. Unable to bear one more moment of someone making demands and angrily shouting at him, my student calmly opened the window and stepped out on the ledge to escape.

Imagine yourself in that substitute’s position. What would you do? Frantic, she phoned the office for help. Alas, when the administration arrived, they were unable to coax the student back into the classroom. The call went out to 911. The arriving emergency police and firemen thankfully recognized the young man, assessed the situation, and determined first that there was no way to get a high ladder up to that ledge given the cramped space between buildings, and second, they couldn’t physically reach him from inside the classroom.

However, some things are more effective than physically reaching someone, things like connections, love, and trust, things like faith, gentleness, and kindness. One of the firemen calmly stuck his head out the window.

Hey, buddy, what are you doing out there?

The young man recognized his fire station friend and cracked a big smile. Hi! What are you doing here?

Well, I have a problem. It’s a rescue situation you can help me resolve.

What is it?

Well, I have this guy out on a ledge where he could fall, which is causing some folks inside the room here to panic. Think about your fireman training. Tell me what to do.

Oh, okay, the student replied. He thought a minute, edging closer to the window. I guess you need to talk to him calmly and invite him to come back through the window and into the room so he’ll be safe.

Well, there you go! Think you can do that for me? Come climb back in here, old buddy.

And so the student did. His fireman mentor gave him a big hug, and they walked off down the hall.

The aftermath of it all? I honestly do not know many details, but I do know two things: One, he did not return to my class again; I heard he was assigned to a self-contained special education classroom. And two, the substitute was treated by the paramedics for shock and never again subbed as far as I know.

The larger issue, though, is how the incident is a picture of us and God. Frankly, it is easy for us to end up out on a ledge. Life’s design provides so many unsafe refuges that are appealing and easy to climb on to but potentially deadly. Alcohol, drugs, and other addictions, losing one’s self in work or mindless activities, pursuit of wealth, status, and fame, whatever the cost—these things and others can be inviting open windows where we go to escape the pressures of living. And then there we are, unable or unwilling to come back into safety.

If people are unfortunate, their would-be rescuers will yell, berate, demand, frighten, or further demoralize and alienate the suffering ledge-dweller. And then there is God and, hopefully, God’s people. They come with kindness, offering words of understanding, encouragement, and support.

Come in from the ledge, come join us in the Lord, they coax. Listen. God, the one who rescues, is here. Come hear what he has to say.

And Jesus whispers, Come unto me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls (Matthew 11:28–30). He reaches out and gently leads us to a safe place if we let him. Come in, come in off the ledge. Rest.

And So We Learn

Reflect on a time in your life when you were in crisis, figuratively perched out on a ledge. What was the situation? Who came to rescue you? How did they bring you back in?

Has there been a situation where you were the rescuer? What was it? Whom did you help? What did you do?

Prayer thought: Lord, thank you for your promises of rescue and rest as we go through our lives. Walk with us and with those we love, guiding us in thy will and wisdom. Amen.

No Boundaries

I am in derision daily; everyone mocks me.

—Jeremiah 20:7

What have I done? I asked myself every single day. Let’s admit the truth. Though I did many things well, my early teaching years were pretty much a mess—no exaggeration—a flat mess. If I hadn’t been laid off at the end of year one due to position cuts in the district, they probably would have fired me. Academically I was prepared and capable as a teacher. My ability to build relationships and work well with students one-on-one and colleagues rated an excellent. However, the very personality traits that enhanced my book knowledge and collegiality worked against me when it came to crucial teacher skills such as classroom management, discipline, maintenance of order, and setting boundaries.

The reasons beginning teachers have for becoming too accommodating, too eager to have students like them are many and complex—low self-esteem, a childhood background was saying no or disagreeing was not encouraged, a tendency toward introversion (quite common in excellent scholars who love the company of books and enjoy the quietness of libraries), and a shyness urging them to avoid confrontation, and frankly, a lack of opportunity in daily life to practice corralling twenty or thirty teenagers! Classroom management is both a learned skill and an innate art form, and I majorly lacked both.

There was so much I loved about my job at a midsized, small town, close-knit high school—the students, the staff, and my first-year classroom, and ah, the classroom. It presented me with one major, vexing problem. It had nice, small (no student could climb out!) windows that opened, opened just enough for paper wads and paper airplanes to sail through. Sigh.

The lawn beneath my classroom windows looked like a January snowstorm as people left school one memorable afternoon. How and when did the slam dunkers and airplane pilots