Article January 26, 1974 Issue

I Was a "Professional Pouter"

MARY H. REED

Years ago one of my kindergarten pupils—Cindy, let's call her—liked to stand near the playground gate. She would pout and say nobody liked her. While watching her one day at her pouting post, having been unable to convince her to play with the others, I discovered I was pouting too, but in a hidden way.

My pouting came out in impatience with my class. The reason for it was that my detailed lesson plans often didn't work out, and I was rebelling against the idea of turning to God in the midst of the problems. After all, I had prayed about school in the early morning, hadn't I?

When the class was given a choice for permanent seats in the classroom, many begged to have Cindy sit near them. They liked her. After this I could just laugh with her whenever she started to pout at the gate; her misery was so obviously self-imposed. And, by degrees over a long time, I learned to laugh at my own senseless pouting too—to be more flexible and prayerful on the job.

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