Mason ate glue last week. Not a little bit of glue. Like, a substantial amount of Elmer's glue while I was telling the story of Jesus feeding the 5000. And somehow he still remembers that Jesus shared food with everyone because when his mom packed him lunch yesterday he insisted on giving half his sandwich to his sister.
I don't understand children.
Three months ago I volunteered for Sunday school because they were desperate and I figured how hard could it be? Read some Bible stories, color some pictures, sing a song. Easy.
HAHAHAHAHA. Oh sweet summer me. So naive.
Last week was a disaster but also not?
I had this whole thing planned about Moses and the burning bush. Made little paper flames, brought actual sticks from my yard, even practiced my "voice of God" which honestly just sounds like I'm getting over a cold.
Five minutes in, everything fell apart. The paper flames caught on actual fire from the candle I was using for "atmosphere." Had to stomp them out while trying not to panic in front of eight kids. Smoke alarm went off. It was chaos.
But then little Emma says "wow, that's why Moses was scared! Fire is really scary!" And suddenly my disaster became the most effective teaching moment I've ever had. Sometimes being bad at stuff works out?
These kids ask the weirdest questions
"Did Jesus ever get brain freeze from eating too much ice cream?"
"If Jonah was in the whale for three days, did he have to pee?"
"Do you think David and Goliath would be friends if they met at McDonald's instead of fighting?"
I used to try to redirect these back to the "real lesson" but honestly their questions are way more interesting than anything in my curriculum book. Now I just roll with it.
Last week someone asked if Noah's wife had a name and I realized I had no idea. So we made one up. Her name is probably Margaret now according to my class. Sorry, theologians.
Everything I planned vs what actually happens
What I planned: Carefully structured 30-minute lesson about the Good Samaritan with three activities and a meaningful discussion about helping others.
What happened: Tommy announced he had to poop five minutes in, which reminded Sarah that her dog pooped in her yard, which somehow led to twenty minutes of enthusiastic poop stories from eight different kids.
Did we ever talk about the Good Samaritan? Not really. Did they all agree that helping clean up poop is a way to be kind to others? Absolutely.
I'm counting it as a win.
Kids remember the dumbest things
I spent two weeks preparing this elaborate lesson about Daniel in the lions den. Made lion masks, practiced roaring sounds, had this whole interactive thing planned.
What do they remember? That I mentioned Daniel probably hadn't brushed his teeth in a while because he was in prison.
Now every week someone asks about dental hygiene in biblical times. "Did Moses use mouthwash?" "What kind of toothbrush did Jesus have?"
I've become the Sunday school teacher who talks about ancient oral care way too much. This is my life now.
Snacks are everything
Never, EVER, try to teach hungry kids about patience. Just don't.
I learned this when we were talking about waiting for God's timing and Sarah had a complete meltdown because she was hungry and wanted goldfish crackers RIGHT NOW and couldn't we please just skip to snack time?
Now I hand out crackers first thing. Before we even sit down. Before I say hello. Just crackers everywhere immediately.
Is this theologically sound? Probably not. Does it prevent tiny human riots? Absolutely.
Moving around is not optional
Whoever designed Sunday school rooms clearly never met an actual child. Tiny chairs in rows facing forward like they're gonna sit still for thirty minutes. What a joke.
Now we just sit on the floor. Sometimes we lie on the floor. Sometimes we stand on the floor while hopping on one foot. Whatever keeps them from climbing the walls.
When we learned about Paul's missionary journeys, we literally walked around the entire church building. Took forty-five minutes. The kids loved it. I got my steps in. Win-win.
Songs are weird but they work
"Father Abraham" is the dumbest song ever written but these kids LOSE THEIR MINDS for it. They want to do it every week. Multiple times.
I don't understand why wiggling your right arm and then your left arm and then both arms while marching in place is so entertaining, but here we are.
Sometimes I try to sneak in more "dignified" worship songs and they just stare at me. But mention Father Abraham and suddenly they're all jumping around like caffeinated squirrels.
Fine. We'll sing about Abraham's body parts every week. Whatever works.
Crafts are the enemy
Pinterest lied to me. Those perfect Sunday school crafts with coordinated colors and beautiful results? They don't exist in real life.
Real life is glue everywhere, someone eating the cotton balls, three kids fighting over the good scissors, and everything looking like it was made during an earthquake.
Last week we tried to make paper plate angels. They looked like paper plate disasters with googly eyes. But the kids were so proud of their creations and kept talking about how angels watch over us.
Ugly crafts that spark conversation > pretty crafts that cause stress.
Bathroom emergencies happen at the worst times
Right in the middle of Jesus walking on water, guaranteed someone needs to pee. Every time. It's like they have a sixth sense for dramatic timing.
I used to get annoyed because it interrupted my perfectly planned lesson flow. Now I just pause the story and we all take a bathroom break together.
Sometimes the best conversations happen walking to and from the bathroom anyway. "Do you think Jesus ever had to go potty when he was walking on water?" Deep theological questions in the hallway.
Parents think I know what I'm doing
This is the funniest part. Parents drop off their kids and say things like "thank you so much for teaching them about God's love" and I'm like... I mostly just try to keep them from eating craft supplies while occasionally mentioning Jesus.
But then they tell me their kid came home singing "Jesus Loves Me" or asking questions about prayer and I realize maybe I am actually doing something right?
Last month a mom told me her daughter had been praying for their sick cat because "Miss [my name] said we can pray about anything." The cat got better and now this kid thinks prayer is magic.
I mean, maybe it is? I'm not gonna argue with results.
Some weeks are just survival
Last Sunday I had a migraine, forgot to prep anything, and showed up with a bag of goldfish crackers and a prayer.
We ended up just sitting in a circle talking about what made them happy that week. Tommy's hamster learned a new trick. Sarah lost a tooth. Emma's grandma visited.
Then someone said "I think God likes it when we're happy" and everyone agreed and we spent twenty minutes talking about joy and gratitude and how God loves seeing us smile.
No planned activities. No crafts. No songs. Just kids sharing their lives and connecting it to God's love.
It was probably the best lesson I've ever "taught."
I'm pretty sure they're teaching me more than I'm teaching them
These kids have this amazing ability to just... believe. No questions, no doubts, just "of course God loves us, why wouldn't He?"
When I'm having a terrible week and feeling like everything's falling apart, I show up to teach these kids and they remind me that God loves us even when we mess up. That it's okay to ask questions. That sometimes the best response to problems is to share your goldfish crackers.
I started this thinking I was gonna teach them about faith. Turns out they're teaching me.
Also that glue is apparently edible and children are basically tiny drunk adults who find everything hilarious.
But mostly the faith thing.
