Turning English Words Into French (And Other Things I Regret)

I taught high-school writing for several years. For most of the time, I loved it. I enjoyed the creative pieces my students came up with, I enjoyed the challenge of getting students excited about the prospect of writing, and I had a peculiar amount of fun yelling at students who would fall asleep: “Show me, don’t tell me!” It was a constant mantra in my writing classes.

But I did not love my first-year teaching. In fact, I disliked it…greatly. OK, I loathed it. And it wasn’t because of the students, it wasn’t because of the school, it was because I didn’t have confidence. I questioned every red mark on their paper, each lesson plan I concocted, and I would actually have nightmares about my students overtaking me when they realized how many times I had to google “comma rules.”

I was not necessarily ill-prepared, I just lacked confidence in my teaching, and my insecurities often led to anger and short-temperedness. My poor students were the recipients of an unpleasant, self-doubting first-year teacher. I regret just about every aspect of that first year in the classroom.

A while back, I was driving through the Starbucks line, and when I picked up my drink, the gentleman at the window said, “Mrs. Polski?” He told me his name, and my mind immediately jumped back in time. He was one of the kids in my nightmares. He was one of my poor first-year students. I thought of all the mistakes I made during that year. Being short-tempered, yes, but other mistakes like teaching them the wrong way to pronounce words.

This actually happened.

I used to walk the aisle, read a vocab word, and have the students repeat it back to me. On one particular occasion, the word “passive” came up. For some reason my mind drifted to…France. I pronounced the word as passiv-eh,with an accent on the end. They repeated it back. I continued to the next word until one of my pupils raised her hand: “Mrs. Polski, isn’t it just pronounced passive?”

 I looked at the word and realized immediately I had erred. What was I thinking? Of course, the mature thing to do would be to admit my mistake, apologize for my brain-lapse, and move on, but the nightmares came to mind. I imagined this as the moment when they would stand up in protest realizing that I really had no earthly idea what I was doing. So, I said:

“No. It’s pronounced passiv-eh but thank you for asking.”

These are the things I thought about when I stared at the kid in the Starbucks window from my first-year. “Mrs. Polski?” he said again. And I inadvertently said, “I’m sorry.” It was awkward since he had no idea what I was apologizing for.

“I just wanted to say it’s good to see you.” He said it with sincere politeness.

Sweet young man who dealt with my anger and learned that the word “passive” is pronounced in a French way. “Well,” I said, “I hope you’re still writing papers!”  

 That is what I said as I drove away.

I’ve thought several times about how much I regret that first year of teaching. How I wish I could travel back in time and fix the many mistakes I made with those kids. I was talking recently with a friend about regrets in life, and it got me thinking about how we should respond to regrets we have. In the last weeks of my dad’s life, I remember sitting by his hospital bed, and in the quiet moments my dad turned to me and said, “I just want you to know, Kate, I have no regrets.”

Is it actually possible to live with no regrets?  As a woman in my early twenties, I took in my dad’s words and tried to process them. The conclusion I came to as a young adult was that perhaps I shouldn’t have regrets. But through the years, I’ve wondered if this is how the Lord calls us to live?

I can’t help but think of the Apostle Paul. Early in his life, he was a persecutor of Christians, a tyrant to those who believed in God, a man who actually contributed to the stoning of Stephen. But after his conversion, did Paul regret these actions?  After King David committed adultery and murder, did he not regret his decisions?

There is certainly a sense in which regret can be a godly response to sin. Regret that leads to repentance is a beautiful picture of God’s rich grace and mercy. The Apostle Paul recognized that his actions were wrong and regretted the violent sins he committed; listen to how he describes himself in 1 Timothy 1:“The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.” And David cries out in Psalm 51, “Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, O God of my salvation…” Both of these men clearly regretted their actions.

But what do we do with our regret?

Romans 8 reminds us that God is at work through each and every circumstance of our life: “And we know that for those who love God all thingswork together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”  Paul knew that God was at work, even in light of his past mistakes. He echoes these truths as he continues in 1 Timothy 1: “But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life.”

 And David recognized that in his plea for cleansing, God responds with steadfast and abounding love. David claims his sins but knows the One who can cleanse him and create in him a new heart. This same truth is found in the New Testament when Jesus speaks to the crowds and says, “…whoever comes to me I will never cast out” (John 6:36).

 Regret becomes sinful when we choose to hold onto it. When we refuse to be honest about our sin and relinquish our past to the God who can restore us and make us new, we are not giving ourselves fully to him. If it is sin that we regret, give it completely and wholly to the Lord that he may cleanse your heart. And if it is regret over other past decisions or actions, let them go. Just as Paul recognized that by God’s grace, Jesus used his actions for His glory, so we also need to remember that every twist and turn is redeemable and used in God’s perfect plan. Yes, we will have regrets, and I’m pretty sure my dad had plenty along the way, but he came to a place at the end of his life where he was able to give them fully and completely to the Lord.

Several years ago, I received a letter in the mail from one of these first-year students. I was utterly shocked by her words. This dear young woman decided to go into journalism “because of my class.” She continued on and said that she was “inspired by my teaching and hopes to use what I taught her in the years to come.”

(And let’s hope she does not ever…EVER…use the word “passiv-eh” in one of her pieces).

Everything works together for good. How it is possible that she was inspired in the midst of my mistakes and frustrations, I will never understand. But God was clearly at work, and he was able to use my feebleness and sinful moments for His glory. This is what He does with our regret. This is the mighty God we serve.