Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam

It seems like my life is this swirling combination of work, school, Tyler, and primary. At any given moment, one of these four things will be demanding my attention with little deviation. Presently, I’m sitting in class, but I’m thinking about primary and how to help our class. At the end of December, the primary president asked Tyler and I to move from teaching the four and five year olds to teaching the sunbeams. We accepted and looked forward to teaching a new class. After nine months of teaching the CTR 4 class, I felt pretty prepared.

I wasn’t. I’ve written before about how overwhelmed I was after we started teaching primary, but this was different. We initially had eleven children on our roll. Our stake had just realigned the ward boundaries, so the primary was undergoing some serious changes, and we were some of the only teachers that stayed in our ward. After doing some recon and meeting the kids in our class, we ended up with nine. Anyone who has ever spent time with nine three-year-olds knows how crazy they can be.

Something I’ve learned is that every class has its own dynamic. Ours is very unique. We have two that are difficult. They push our buttons and are aggressive with us and the other kids. We have two more that don’t ever sit. They run in circles and do somersaults regardless of what we do. One of the kids in our class is deaf. We have two other kids that talk nonstop. They’re anxious to share their thoughts and tell stories at every opportunity. The last two are relatively quiet and sometimes get overshadowed by their louder and more rambunctious counterparts. That’s the general energy in our class, but that doesn’t account for the days when they (or we) are especially attentive or rowdy. Regardless, we get home every week exhausted.

Our primary president armed us with knowledge going into the new year, and that was unbelievably helpful. We have amazing leaders in our primary. I don’t feel judged, but I feel supported. It’s been such a blessing. When our primary president told us about our class, she mentioned that they might need to split the class or call a third teacher. After the first week, I felt great. After the second week, I felt like the class needed to be split. Now, after eight weeks, I still sometimes feel impatient or frustrated, but I have also become really attached to our little sunbeams. I understand if our leaders need to split the class, but part of me hopes they don’t. I hope they don’t split the class because it would break my heart to lose any one of them.

Anyway, here’s a list of some things I’ve learned from being a sunbeam teacher so far.

• It’s always appropriate to sing a fun song.
• Whether we sing “Rain is Falling,” “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam,” “Once There Was a Snowman,” or “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” etc, it always causes some giggles and makes class more fun.
• Taking turns is hard.
• I’ve never seen more children who want to say the prayer at the beginning or end of class. Sometimes, we end up saying several in order to keep the peace, and that’s okay.
• Sometimes, you just really need a snack.
• I used to be anti-snacks in primary, but with our class, it’s nearly impossible to go without a snack. The three-year-olds in our class have already been sitting still for two hours before we are in class together. Often they’re tired and hungry, and a handful of pretzels makes everyone feel better. Plus, it keeps their mouths full, so they’re relatively quiet.
• Everyone has something to share.
• When I ask a question as part of the lesson, I have to be prepared to listen to each child. They all want a chance to share what they know, and a lot of times, it has nothing to do with the lesson, but everyone deserves to be listened to.
• A hug can fix any kind of hurt.
• Whether you’ve fallen off of your chair or someone hurt your feelings, a hug can make it better. Sometimes at the end of church, my lap is really tired, but I love that the sweet children in our class insist that I can make them feel better with a simple hug or kiss.
• Reading books is pure magic.
• I have a book about reverence called “Monday I Was a Monkey.” When I read it in class, the kids were enraptured. I’ve never seen them so still or excited about something.
• Beanbags are magical too.
• I will never again be caught at church without a beanbag on my person. In both of our primary classes, they’ve loved having the chance to catch the beanbag in order to answer a question or share a story. It helps everyone pay attention and makes listening more fun.
• The kids who act out are often the ones who need some extra love.
• There are several children in our class that are a little bit difficult to interact with, but what I’ve learned is that those children need some extra love and attention. Sometimes they need more turns than the other kids, or they need responsibility or a special assignment.
• There’s no such thing as a cookie cutter kid.
• Every child is different. There’s no recipe for how to teach every child or what is going to be each child’s favorite activity. I don’t like to be part of blanket-statements, so I shouldn’t consign three-year-olds to them.
• Consistency is a must.
• People need consistency, and children do too. I’ve noticed that the children in our class look forward to having the same teachers every week. If Tyler doesn’t come into the primary room with me for one reason or another, I answer to nine children as to if Brother Johns is here today and why he isn’t there yet. It’s so important to be able to build relationships with children you teach.
• Life isn’t consistent.
• Even though consistency is super important, it’s also hard to nail down. Just because one week class goes well, does not guarantee that next week will be successful. This inconsistency exists in each person too. Sometimes, one activity will be awesome one time and horrible the next. One child may be docile one minute and hyper the next. That’s what life is like. We can’t expect things to always go smoothly.
• Jesus wants us all the be sunbeams.
• We can all shine as brightly as the sweet three-year-olds that I get to spend time with each week. If it’s hard to remember that we all have light to share, take a leaf out of your local three-year-old’s book. Even when they are being naughty or challenging your patience, they can reflect love and light, and we should do our best to do that too.

We're missing a few in this picture,
but here we are in our sunbeam glory.