This week, a broken copier revealed some broken things in my life.
Bleary-eyed, I stared at my reflection in the elevator mirror. Monday face. For sure.
I unlocked the door to my classroom, and looked at the assortment of school supplies and papers from the last week on my desk and counter. Monday classroom. For sure.
I logged on my computer, and was hit with a wave of responsibilities, even though I had spent most of the weekend working. Monday. Monday. Monday.
I yawned and clicked print on the first assignment for my sixth graders.
A strange dialogue box popped up to inform me that the printer was not connected. Of course. It's Monday.
I trekked down the hallway to glare suspiciously at the printer. It was definitely in a mood.
(and so was I)
I paraded into another teacher's room to declare the news of the broken printer, then traipsed downstairs to use the elementary copier.
All day was an adventure up and down the stairs, forgetting to email yet another document to myself in order to print.
On Wednesday, the elementary copier broke. "The world conspires against me!" It was a joke. But in every joke there's at least an ounce of truth. And the truth here was that I needed to slow down... and the broken copier was the only way I was going to do that.
The broken copier forced me to pause. And while it was broken, I realized something:
It had become my slave-master.
It printed off my to-do lists, my articles to read, and convinced me that if I hadn't read the fifteen articles for the week, I was a bad teacher. Most weeks I'm drowning in a sea of information, skimming and collecting as much as I can before I turn around and teach it the next day. My desk disappears under papers and highlighters and textbooks. My creativity is hampered by the need for more knowledge. My impostor syndrome is strong... and the copier lies. It tells me the more articles I print and the more information I stuff in my brain, the better teacher I will be.
But the slave-master needed a new circuit board, so it was out of commission.
The lies of busyness continued. "I need to do this. I need to read this. I need to assign this." But then I stepped back and just enjoyed the teaching and the relationships: asking questions, listening to discussions, guiding students through preparing for a presentation.
And with less reading and less articles, I remembered something that had been buried deep inside of me: joy.
"In His presence there is fullness of joy."
I had believed the lie of the copier: That I had to always be doing more in order to feel confident and to feel more joy. And in all the reading and hustle and bustle, I became forgetful. How easily I bury my thankfulness in busyness. How easily I fill my time with "mandatory" reading, instead of reading the only life-giving text: His Word.
I also realized that so often my inner to-do list blocks me from relationships.
It blocks me from my relationship with the Lord: I must grade these papers. I don't have time for half an hour quiet time.
It blocks me from relationship with my Nagyi: I must grade these papers. I don't have time to tell you about my day and hear about yours. I don't have time to play cards with you or help you replace the lightbulbs.
It blocks me from relationship with my friends: I must grade these papers. I don't have time to go out for lunch after church.
But the week the copier broke, the people who see my hustle and bustle began pointing out that I'm trying to find worth in what I do. That I'm trying to find worth in sticky-notes full of checkmarks, in projects handed back immediately, and in perfect knowledge of the entire world's history.
You will never find fulfillment here. My jobs will never be finished. I'm a teacher, and a teacher's work is never done. And there's a point I need to put it down and leave it alone.
Because if I'm not spending time with the One who gives me worth, I will never truly find it. I often think the most fruitful thing I can do is to deliver the world's best lessons, and to be the world's best teacher.
But in all reality, as I read this week, "the most fruitful thing I can do today is to connect with the heart of Jesus."
