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A celestial intervention helps a teacher to discipline troubled teenage students.
The footprints of an angel are love. And where there is love, miraculous things can happen.
-Angels in the Outfield, Movie
Robin Lee Shope had never asked God to send her to a mission field to serve him. In fact, she enjoyed being a wife and the mother of two young children. But when she drove each day to her job at a school in Lewisville, Texas, it was difficult to imagine a more complex assignment from heaven. Robin taught remedial reading to teenagers who, because of their behavioral difficulties, were still in junior high school. Many were gang members, lived in single-parent families, or struggled with learning disabilities. Failure, anger, and lack of confidence and self-discipline were their constant emotional companions. Why should they try? Who cared about them?
Robin was deeply concerned about them. Each day she laid her hands on her class list and prayed for each student by name, asking God to give her the wisdom to address their many needs. She asked the students' guardian angels to help her-somehow-reach them. She even maintained a "rewards" box, so she could publicly praise teenagers who had made a genuine effort that week. But it was an uphill climb.
"Tony was the hardest to handle. He was a Hispanic gang member with a bad temper, sixteen, and still in the eighth grade." The others usually took their cues from Tony. When he was in a cooperative mood, Robin's day was manageable. When he was aggressive or refused to obey, the entire class floundered; they threw items or collectively refused to complete an assignment.
Robin's instincts told her that there was more to Tony than the callous exterior he presented. If only she could break through that shell and bring him the respite and encouragement he so needed. She sensed that he had much to offer the world if he could only believe in himself. "I know you can do better than this, Tony," she would say during their private talks. "Show me some effort so I can reward you." Tony usually shrugged; school was obviously not a priority for him.
One Friday, Robin realized that Tony's behavior had been surprisingly decent all day. Eager to reward him, she announced that Tony could choose something from the rewards box. He ambled up the aisle and took his time perusing the box as if he were selecting a rare gem. Several of the kids snickered. Finally, Tony chose a small American flag. He strutted back to his seat and began to wave it. "Tony, please stop that," Robin asked. "You're disturbing the others."
But Tony continued to swing the flag back and forth as his classmates watched. Look at me, he seemed to be saying, and his eyes were fixed on Robin, daring her to do something about his behavior.
He was getting out of control, she knew, headed for a showdown with her. Robin had no idea what to do. Was he capable of physical violence toward her? What if she lost her temper? She prayed silently, asking God to send his angels to comfort and calm the "least of these," the children that no one seemed to want. She looked at Tony, and he glared back. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
Suddenly, surprised at herself, Robin smiled, breaking the tension. "Tony, if you don't put that flag down, I'll have to sing to you. And believe me, you won't want that!" Where had that idea come from? She had only an average voice and had never sung in a classroom before.
But her effort at distraction had failed. Tony continued to wave the flag, a little smile playing at his lips. Go on, sing, he seemed to say, mocking her.
Robin gulped. A deal is a deal. In a shaky voice, she began a song from church: "Joy is the flag flown high from the castle of my heart…”
The students quieted, seemingly mesmerized. Tony laid his flag on the desk; his dark eyes watched Robin as she sang. Was he angry? "And the King is in residence there…" The last notes died away.
The class was silent. "I haven't heard that since I was a kid in Sunday school," Tony said. "Do you know any more songs?"
"Uh…" Robin was astonished at his reaction. He seemed completely sincere, even a little vulnerable.
"How about ‘This Little Light of Mine'?" another boy suggested. "We used to sing that at my church."
"Oh, I loved that one," a girl enthused.
Her students had attended Sunday schools, churches? She didn't even have time to ask, for a teenager in the back of the room had already started the next song.
Together, in this most public of school environments, everyone sang one hymn after another; they were reminders of a younger, more innocent time in their lives when they had been filled with hope. "Jesus loves me, this I know…." Robin looked at their faces, heard the sweet purity of their voices, and blinked back tears. Whatever their hardships, they were as beautiful to her as any choir of angels.
After that day, the classroom climate changed. If everyone behaved, then "Sunday school singing" would take place at the end of the day. Robin took requests, connected certain songs to lessons, and exulted at the enthusiasm her teenagers now showed. She gave thanks to the unknown pastors and Sunday school teachers who had planted these seeds in her students. Often she caught Tony's eye during a special phrase and saw that the meaning had touched him too. No one from the principal's office ever reminded Robin that what she was doing was technically against the law.
Tony and some of the others graduated at the end of that year, and Robin lost touch with them. Occasionally, she wondered about Tony. Had those daily moments of relaxation and spiritual peace had an influence on him, enough to keep him from falling back into the ruthless street culture? She would probably never know. God had other plans. Ten years passed, and Robin continued to teach remedial students. One day she pulled into a car-repair shop to have some work done. The manager of the shop, a handsome young man, greeted her and took her information. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Robin couldn't place him. She was struck by his good manners, but mainly by the sparkle and joy in his eyes.
As he finished the paperwork, the man looked at her. "You don't remember me, do you?"
Robin hesitated.
He smiled. "I'm Tony."
"Tony!" She could hardly believe it. "But how—"
"God reached me through those songs we sang," Tony told her. "I wanted my life to mean something. So I went to mechanics school, and I go to church every week now, and"—he looked around proudly, then back at Robin—"don't give up on kids like me. Keep praying!"
Keep praying. Once again he had reduced her to tears, but now the story was complete. Who had whispered a suggestion of holy song into her ear that day so long ago? Was it her angel? Was it Tony's angel? It didn't matter. A seed planted in the most arid of soils could grow, if it had just a little love and faith to nourish it. She knew that now for sure.
By Joan Wester Anderson
Marilyn L. Ali
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