In a small town in Florida, classes begin during the damp heat of August. As the students trudge into the classroom, vocally lamenting the heat and the beginning of school, the teacher must make a decision: whether to ease the students into the year or to prepare the students for the expectations held for them. This choice, made at the beginning of every year, sets the tone for the remainder of the term. This choice often reflects the teacher’s view of discipline.

            Discipline, as defined by Microsoft Encarta, is the practice or methods of ensuring that people obey rules by teaching them to do so and punishing them if they do not. This short term definition of discipline can be contrasted by a later entry, stating that discipline is the ability to behave in a controlled and calm way, even in a difficult or stressful situation, which focuses on the long term result of discipline.

            The Christian sees discipline slightly different. Richard Taylor states that “discipline is discipleship- following Jesus, with one’s self denial and one’s cross resolutely carried” (Taylor, 26), casting a light of eternity on the principle. Discipline, rather than being the short term tool used to achieve a goal or the long term application to behavior, is the practices, tools, results, and benefits of patient, determined redirecting of wayward thoughts and desires to bring one back to the likeness of Christ in all things, including academics.

            Richard Taylor, in his book The Disciplined Life, defines self-discipline as “the ability to regulate conduct by principle and judgment rather than impulse, desire, high pressure or social custom” (Taylor, 27). Gary Ryan Blair, a motivational speaker, defined self-discipline as “an act of cultivation. It requires… [connecting] today's actions to tomorrow's results. There's a season for sowing a season for reaping. Self-discipline helps… [discern] which is which” (BrainyQuote). Self discipline is the undergirding of an organized life. It is the personal application of biblical mandates and truths to every area of life, leading to the improvement of those areas, regardless of circumstances or opinion.

            Self discipline, as applied to the classroom, is very important. The students not only need discipline to teach them through routines and habits, but a self-disciplined teacher will give the example of those same routines and habits developed fully in adulthood. Self-discipline ensures time is spent to the greatest advantage outside the classroom as well. This includes preparing the classroom as much as possible the night before the lesson. Lesson plans should be written promptly and turned in to the administrator. Tests should be graded promptly. If a teacher expects prompt compliance to a deadline, then the teacher should use self-discipline to maintain the standard in his life. As Dr. Strahan states in his book Mindful Learning, teaching self discipline in this manner “is the mission…[of] educator globally” (Strahan, 112).

            One aspect of self-discipline that is lacking too many classrooms is consistency. Consistency is the ability to maintain a particular standard. Dr. Kevin Lehman, in The Birth Order Book, states that a missing element in families and classrooms is “a system or strategy for applying consistent loving discipline to the children” (Lehman, 252). While discipline applies to the class and the teacher, consistency is solely within the area of self-discipline. Bruce Ray, in Withhold Not Correction, states that “as God in His Holiness cannot overlook sin, we…must be careful to correct every act of sinful disobedience, however great or small” (Ray, 105). Teachers, in an attempt to maintain a smooth flow in the lesson, may overlook small act of insubordination. This ends up being a fatal mistake, as Dr. Dobson points out with his illustration of the inconsistent Miss Peach and loving but firm Mrs. Justice from The New Dare to Discipline (Dobson, 140).

            One final aspect of self-discipline that relates to the classroom is further education. In the field of education, new ideas and practices are being developed and used. While all of these ideas may not be in line with a traditional curriculum, parents may still ask about new ideas. Rather than dismissing the ideas and practices, research should be done to understand the foundations and Biblical implications of the practice. A teacher who uses self-discipline and strives to be well versed in his field will seem reliable to the parent.

            While self-discipline is the work of the individual, it is hard to obtain without a foundation of imposed discipline. The definition of imposed, as defined by Webster, is to place over by authority or by force. Discipline that is placed upon a student or child without the consent of the child is imposed discipline. This would include rules for the teacher and rules for the student.

            Imposed discipline is not only for the child but also for the teacher. The teacher may feel the constraints of imposed discipline regarding the standard of the school, including church attendance and dress code. Some schools require all teachers within their school to attend the church affiliated with the school. In addition to church attendance, a dress code will be required of the teacher, both in and out of the classroom.

            From the perspective of the teacher towards the students, imposed discipline is essential, not only for classroom control, but also for the development of the child. John Rosemond, in A Family of Value, lists reasons to have a set standard of rules for a child, including teaching them to respect their parents and other authority, guiding them to actively seek educational opportunities, and helping them to thrive both emotionally and socially (Rosemond, 151). One of the most important factors listed is setting the spiritual stage for the child. Teaching the student to obey authority through imposed discipline helps the child to understand the need for obedience to God. Application can be made for disobedience as well though. If the child struggles with obeying the rules and procedures that the authority, the teacher, has placed in his way, then the child may more readily understand the principle of sin and the gift of forgiveness. However, it is important to remember that God used an impossible standard to reveal a need for salvation, but teachers should not use rules for the same reason.

            Another aspect of imposed discipline is the actual instruction of the material. The teacher requires the student to pay attention to the material taught, process that information to produce some level of comprehension, and then duplicate that comprehension at another level. If those standards are not met, the child is corrected, using academics as the tool. Since the child is the one receiving the discipline without being conferred with, this would fall under the area of imposed discipline. In the article “Disciplining the Mind”, written by Veronica Mansilla and Howard Gardner, this idea is discussed. Mansilla and Gardner state that, since the child will not willingly learn on their own, “a different kind of instruction is in order, one that seeks to discipline the mind” (Mansilla, 4). Children need to be taught how to remain dedicated to one task for the duration of the task, and the first step to teaching self-discipline of the mind is imposed discipline in instruction.

            To the traditional Christian schoolteacher, discipline is a choice that is made daily in and out of the classroom.  The teacher is directed to discipline with love from God through the Bible. The discipline that is needed for a successful classroom is self-discipline on the part of the teacher and imposed discipline to maintain control of the classroom. The single most important goal of discipline is to help lead the student to Christ and guide him to a closer walk with Christ.

The carpet, though somewhat old, still feels soft beneath my head as I lie down beside Colton. I can feel the fibers catching on my hair as I turn my head to watch Colton playing. He pounds his chubby hands against his drum set, making the songs overlap as the toy tries to keep up with him. Noticing me, Colton scoots his body closer to where I am and places his face against my stomach. As he begins to chatter, he raises his head to look at me. Reaching to my side, I gently slide my hands under his arms and lift him on top of my torso. Keeping my hands beneath his arms, I help to balance on my stomach while he stands. As his feet shift, so does the pressure on my abdomen.

Thrusting my arms straight above me, I let his whole weight rest on the palms of my hands. For a brief moment, he leaves my arms and hovers above me, and then he descends as rapidly as he ascended. His full weight comes to bear on my elbows as I gently bring him back to me once again.

I cradle his head close as I turn my cheek to his, breathing in his sweet scent, baby powder mingled with a little formula. Though this moment lasted maybe one or two heartbeats, he squirms slightly in my embrace. I push him away from me again, far enough to see his face. I slowly lower him until our noses touch, then thrust him away again, locking my elbows and bouncing him gently. He reaches out, trying to grasp my face. As I lower him slightly to help him, he grabs as much of my face as he can into his chubby little arms and presses his open mouth to my cheek. I feel his small teeth, almost brand new, gently graze my cheek before he pulls away and closes his mouth.

I gently lower him until he is resting on my bosom. His fat little rump is sitting square on my sternum. I sit up suddenly, my hands automatically reaching to cradle and protect his head as I rock him quickly backwards. His laughter literally erupts out of his mouth in small bursts. Picking him up slightly, I cradle him securely in my arms. Abruptly, I slacken my hold to allow him to drop a little, all while keeping him safe within the circle of my arms.

Turning slightly, I sit him on the floor beside me. Placing my hands on either side of Colton, I push myself up off the floor into a crouching position. Grasping him beneath the arms, I heave with my legs to bring myself into a standing position and, using the same momentum, to bring him up with me as well. Swinging him gently, I use the last of the energy to sit him by my waist. I clasp my hands beneath his rear, making a seat for him. In doing so, I also form a barrier with my arms which prevent him from flopping out of my arms.

The lights from the Christmas tree are reflecting in his large eyes as I turn with him so he can watch the tree and I can watch him. His laughter fades while he watches in awe as the lights glimmer and flicker over the many ornaments. As I move closer, his small hand reaches away from my shoulder and strains to reach the reflective orb dangling from the evergreen branch. I gently crouch down and bring him closer to the ball, letting his fingers whisper over the smooth surface. Lurching sideways in my arms, he tries to reach the delicate ornament, oblivious to the fragile design. Carefully leaning away, I save the precious decoration and rise to my full height.

Looking into his eyes, I see the pinpoints of light dance in the inky depths of his pupils. Beyond that, I see the great wonder of the new world welling up. For a moment, I yearn for that wonder and excitement that fills every cranny in one’s soul. I long for that newness of life that makes everything an adventure waiting to happen. Briefly, I cuddle the warm child to me, holding as long as possible, but refusing to hold too long.

            Waves of violent atmosphere oozed beneath the crevice below the closed bedroom door, sliding across the carpet. It left an invisible filth behind, soaking down to the very fibers of the home, leaving emotional turmoil in the hateful wake.

            The oily filth continued on its wrathful course, casting about for another victim. It seeped underneath another closed door. It sped along with a devilish intent, zeroing in on the helpless victim. It reared on invisible legs to slowly scale the sides of a small bed.  Claws that were not claws latched into the soft weave of the dangling bed skirt. The skirt gently undulated in the soft breeze wafting through the open window.

            As the filth continued on its hateful errand, the malice scaled the box spring until it reached the mattress. This soft hurdle was no match for a hatred born on wings of frustration and discontent. Once the malice crested the edge of the mattress, it paused briefly.

            A small form huddled beneath the blanket on the bed. Shivering below the slight protection afforded by the blanket, the child clutched her pillow fiercely. Her white knuckled grasp kept the pillow captive in her young arms. Her face was pale beneath her sun kissed freckles. Her cheek rested against her pillow, crushing into it as if escaping into a dream land which was barred by a cruel door. Her heart quailed within her spirit as the voices across the hall swelled into another angry wave. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her eye lids and jaw with equal and fierce fervor.

            The hateful tide paused no longer. It broke over her in a long, drowning, suffocating black wave. It pulled at her spirit with bony fingers and clutched at her heart with icy strength. Her eyes, clenched shut  with a tortured strength, shot open and focused on the wall in front of her. She did not see the plaster or the paint, Her eyes did not see the materials making the wall. All she saw was sadness. Her ears heard a whisper. This whisper, was not a whisper to be heard with an eardrum or hammer, was a whisper of the mind.

            They are fighting again the voice whispered. The whisper chilled her soul with its pitiless tone. Why are they always fighting? The young girl whimpered softly. She squeezed her pillow against her ears, trying to shut out the fighting and the steely whisper. Her eyes slid along the wall to gaze longingly at the open window.

            If you ran away, you would never hear them fight again. The voice suggested softly, bringing images of a young girl living and working happily away from fighting parents. The young girl sat up, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. Her toes dug into the soft pile of the carpet, tickling gently. She scanned the room sadly, seeing the many desperate attempts of feuding parents to prevent damage to her heart. Gift after gift pushed into her hands to assuage the guilt of a mother and father.

                Her small feet whispered over the carpet as she moved to the window. She slid back the curtains and gazed with sad eyes at the world below. She paused and reached into the small trunk beneath the window and drew out a thick rope left from a pool, long filled in. The rope, once a barrier, was now lowered out the window carefully until it dangled a few feet off the ground. After lowering the rope, she looked out the window once more.

            Reaching towards the window grew a gnarled and aged oak, looking as a loving grandfather might with the knotted limbs ready to cradle and comfort a wounded child. Spinning away from the window, she knelt down and quickly knotted the end of the rope around the leg of her four poster bed, securing it firmly with the knowledge of knots from her girl scout years. She walked past her bedside table and grabbed a small worn book, dog-eared and almost ragged. The pages of the volume, once lustrous, were dim and soft. Along the binding, loving hands wore off the letters.

            Don't take that, the whisper murmured, you might lose it. The small girl clutched the book tighter to her heart before lowering her hands and tucking the book into the waist of her pajama pants. She spun towards the window, now across the room. Running softly across the room, she made no noise as she passed the various medals and plaques declaring a dedication to gymnastics. These plaques and medals glimmered gently on the determined face of the young girl, fast becoming a woman.

            She began to gather her muscles as she approached the window. Tensing and pushing off of the carpet, she curled up her legs and arms in preparation for the vital launch. Her bare toes contacted the sill, and her hands applied pressure to aid in the thrust of her legs. Heartbeats later, she hung in the dark night air, like the first ethereal snowflake of winter. The cool night air lifted her hair and caressed her face. Sliding through the air, she spread her arms briefly, reveling in the silky air slithering through her fingers and snatching at her clothing.

            She gathered her arms and legs beneath her again, and prepared for the jarring impact coming. She stretched her arms to the farthest point her muscles allowed. Her hand struck the rough bark of the oak, and her bare feet contacted the unyielding trunk of the tree. The unforgiving bark sliced into her delicate hands and feet as she wrapped her arms around a strong limb.

            As her movement came to an abrupt halt, she cringed under the jarring impact and the deeper, sharper red pain on her hands and feet. She gently shifted until she rested her slim frame against the trunk of the tree with her legs dangling on either side of the limb. Swiping her palms along her pajama pants, she left small bright red rosettes alongside the fluffy clouds and sheep. Once completed, she reached for the book still held in her waistband. The worn cover felt supple beneath her sore fingers. Her fingers slid over the cover to the shimmering pages, stroking them gently as she pondered where to go.

            Reading may not be the best idea, the cold voice whispered. But, in her spirit, softer and lower than that cold whisper, stiller and sweeter than that unfeeling murmur, calmer and more gentle than that discordant utterance, rang a still small voice. The voice, though small, hummed with the magnification of her soul.

            Pray the still small voice called.

            What good will that do?, the cold whisper mocked. But the still, small voice did not change the message nor became urgent. As a rock remains firm and reliable, so the voice remained unchanging in its message.

            Closing her eyes, the young girl cast her small broken heart into the strong arms of her Holdfast. With the faith of her age, she clung to the One that she could depend on. As her eyes welled over, her spirit poured its grief into the endless love of her God, and in exchange or that grief, she felt peace filling in the crevices in her heart.

            As the torrent of love approached one nook in her heart, a pocket of filth began to shriek accusations, only to be ushered out of the haven of her young heart. The scars in her heart were not erased, nor would she ever forget, but the Love filled every gash and nick alike, healing the hurt.

            As the filth was forced out, the still small voice became clearer. Instead of the simple one word entreaty, the still small voice called again Pray and read. Once again, her fingers wandered over the pages, flipping the sheets past her thumb. She eased the book open to a small section and scanned the pages thoughtfully. Sorrow and failure wept from the pages, rending her broken heart once more, pulling more grief from her almost dry well. She almost gave up, but with one shred of hope left, she read on.

            In the dim light escaping from the street lamp behind the tree, the young girl caught a glimmer of hope in the dark chapter. One shred of joy in the pit called to her heart, filling it with hope. She softly mouthed the words as she read silently. "My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me. This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.  It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him. The LORD is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him.  It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the LORD."

            "Those are some funny words. Saith, seeketh. Funny." She giggled softly. The still small voice within her calmed the giggle as it revealed the promise within the very words she read. The young girl saw her likeness to the section, since she was wishing that the night would end soon. But she knew in her heart, even if things got worse with her here, she was protected and loved. Until the end of time.