Grace Community Christian Church

 

Archived Things Above

Teachable Moment (10/1/09)


It should have been a teachable moment, but it wasn't.

I had never driven this particular type of bus before- it's the newer ones you may have seen on the roads since last year. They sit up higher and have funky angled bodies in the rear and front hoods. The doors operate on air, which means you just have to flick a switch to make them open or shut. Except that Bus #562's doors didn't shut all the way when I flicked the switch to CLOSE.

The older buses had an air release valve located near the top of the door on the inside, but this one just had a rocker switch. I held it down, air swished in the system, and nothing happened. The doors shut, but not all the way, and the 8-way lights that go on when you stop to pick up students didn't go off automatically like they're supposed to, either.

So, assuming I was missing something, I called Dispatch on my cell phone. I explained the situation and they said a supervisor would be right down to help me out. When he didn't show after five minutes, I called the shop on the radio and was instructed to pull the bus up and let a mechanic look at. Which is where the teachable moment should have occurred.

An older mechanic trudged out onto the bus, grunted, pushed the same buttons I did, and presto, the doors worked perfectly. I explained that I'd never driven that kind of bus before, that maybe I had missed something, and that it would be good for me to know exactly what he did so I wouldn't have to waste his time next time I drove that same kind of bus. He looked at me with a "Are you nuts?" kind of look, grunted again, and walked away.

I asked him, "What did you do?" He paused to reply, "I pressed the air release button." I said, "So did I but nothing happened. What did you do differently?" He shrugged and disappeared into the darkness.

My next thoughts were less than Christ-honoring, so I'll keep them to myself, but it struck me that here was an ideal opportunity for him to make life easier for both of us, yet here I was driving away feeling even stupider than when I'd pulled up to the shop. Would it have killed him to explain that you've got to be sure to hold this button first, or make sure this switch is on, or off, or something? Would it have completely wiped out his daily schedule to take a few moments to help someone understand something as basic as how to safely operate a door? What if the next time it happens I'm in the middle of a run with students on board and lights that won't go out? Or doors that won't shut?

It's so easy, isn't it, to forget that what is easy to me may be quite a challenge to you?

I contrast today's experience with my dentist, who just loves to teach. I ask him anything at all, and if my face scrunches up at his answer, or if he perceives that I'm still a bit fuzzy, he reaches for the model of the jawbone. Or the diagram of the teeth. Or for a paper and pen and he sketches it out. And I leave his office feeling like I've learned something valuable. Like maybe I wasn't a complete idiot for asking that question. Dr. Trepper's responses inform and validate and build me up. It would never occur to him to simply grunt and shrug and walk away. Not surprisingly, he's also a Christ-follower. And he has learned the meaning of Paul's words: "Say only what helps, each word a gift." (Ephesians 4:29b, Message)

I'm not going to stop asking questions. In fact, I know I'll find a regular driver for one of those buses and have them show me how the doors work. Hopefully their attitude won't be the same as the grunting mechanic's. And next time someone asks me a question, I hope I'll remember what it's like to not know something, and make my answer a helpful gift.


Jim Dewar --


 

Grace Community Christian Church - 2100 Rosemont Avenue, Frederick MD, 21702 - 301-663-1240