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Print Few wonder how the Sunday school literature arrives, mysteriously intact and ready for use. It’s just there every quarter—teacher’s manual with resource packet, student manuals, and take home papers. Skim it, study it, teach it, get ready for the next week. If it misses the mark, complain; if it hits the bulls-eye, congratulate yourself on a lesson well-taught. That viewpoint changes when you’re in charge of building an entire curriculum from air and imagination every quarter for three years. As editing architect of the Youth (high school) literature, I became only too aware of the intricacies involved in delivering these teaching resources to you every February, May, September, and December. For instance, on May 15, 2004, I completed the Summer 2005 quarter for Word Aflame Publications (WAP), the official creator of all Oneness Apostolic Sunday school literature. That included 13 lessons for the teacher’s manual, 26 student handbook exercises, nine pieces of fiction and four parts of a comic book for the take home papers, along with an editorial and a teacher feature. Like every proud builder, I’d like to say each unit is a work of art, but I’m only too aware what it took to complete. Yet, you have no idea. Allow me to share a few secrets that are either priceless or worthless, depending on your heart.
Drawing Up the Plans The topics are then organized into quarters, the raw materials from which outlines spring. For me, there is no tougher job than creating an outline. It’s not just attempting to conjure a bullet-pointed skeleton from a blank sheet of paper. It’s not my editor’s constant, haunting reminder that, “A lesson is only as good as its outline.” It’s not the deadlines. It’s in finding something biblically significant to share about mentoring—for three straight weeks. It’s in staring at the “sanctity of life” topic, at midnight before the deadline without Inspiration One, and writing, “Jesus doesn’t want you to kill anyone. Keep Jesus happy. Teacher: Repeat this saying 10 times, then lead prayer requests until class dismisses—for the next four weeks.” It’s in agonizing over whether tattoos will be a social issue in three years when the lessons recycle (like they do at all major publishers). I probably average 20+ hours bleeding over 13 outlines, though it’s likely to go much longer. Personally, I’d rather risk black lung disease mining coal in West Virginia than ever write another quarter of outlines, but that’s just me. I can’t speak for the others. These innocuous looking outlines are then forwarded to my editor, who submits them to the Curriculum Committee, a dedicated body of ministers who scrutinize each outline doctrinally. I am told this inspection is a three-hour process. Once the outlines are approved, they become Holy Writ, where neither jot nor tittle can be altered without the gravest ramifications. Contracting Carefully Once I receive their lessons, the real fun begins. Over a period of 6-8 weeks, I edit the lessons (for grammar, content, flow, and creativity), flip them back to the writer for spot-rewrites, and then reedit the lessons upon their return. Meanwhile, I’m also composing the editorial, editing or writing the teacher feature, polishing the serialized fiction, and creating the many small segments that everyone else ignores (unit introductions, teacher preparation page, and resource packet list, among others). My personal goal is to improve the lessons (whatever its strengths and weaknesses) by at least 10 percent. This might mean reinforcing the activities, developing incomplete thoughts, or sanding the transitions. Overall, it takes me about 100 hours every three months. (And no, like all the field editors, this isn’t my full-time occupation.) Finally, about two weeks before I submit these materials to WAP, I assign the next quarter’s lessons so that they will be underway when I get out of rehab. (That was a joke. Kind of.) At WAP, the material goes through at least three different editors, each devoting a specific length of time combing the words for structural inconsistencies and doctrinal discrepancies before organizing the content for publication. Together, this takes about 95 hours. From WAP, the materials go into production, where they are prepped, printed, and shipped over a period of about 45 hours. Finishing a Firm
Foundation… To put that in perspective, 471 hours is almost 12 weeks of full-time labor invested into every 13-week quarter. Examined another way, 471 hours breaks down to more than 36 hours per lesson. (Frankly, those numbers amazed even me.) …for an Incomplete Tower When I accepted the position of Youth Field Editor, I pledged to attend high school Sunday school classes every time I was out of town. And I have. I’ve visited classes (both Pentecostal and otherwise) in Texas, Indiana, Iowa, Florida, Missouri, and Ohio. I’ll be frank—whether they use my curriculum or not, most of them are just plain awful. I’ve been horrified at the number of classes where the teachers hadn’t prepared, so they winged it or couldn’t fill their allotted 45-60 minutes with actual teaching, so they puffed it with extraneous activities; one literally skimmed-read his teacher’s manual and asked “interactive questions”; another chose to start class 20 minutes late so the teenagers could socialize (after all, when do Apostolic teens have time to socialize?), even more seem to study their lessons during the teacher’s meeting before class. More visits than not, I have been appalled at the sheer emptiness forced on our teenagers in the name of “Sunday school.” Jesus said, “For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, saying, This man began to build and was not able to finish!” (Luke 14:28-30). I am that tower builder. I cannot complete the process I have begun. The combined 471 hours are literally worthless—without you. It is your prayers, your preparation, and your determination to reach each student every Sunday that completes the tower. Your dedication is more important, and more effective, than everything we do. Frankly, I don’t care if you use the curriculum because your job is to reach your students through the best methods possible, not to teach my material because it’s “official.” In my travels, I’ve also seen dedicated teachers create their own lessons, use numerous resources on the same theme for a hybrid lesson, or start with my material and rebuild it to fulfill the needs of their teens. These teachers saw their class a serious ministry. Yes, Sunday school can be a grind. It is easy to put preparation off until Saturday night or Sunday morning. There’s no glory and often only mixed satisfaction for a lesson well taught. Still, we must remember that God is the master builder directing my efforts, your dedication, and our burden. You are the architect of your teen’s souls. Success only occurs because you’re there, every week, building a skyscraper of godly achievement through the lives of every student you touch. It’s a challenge, a calling, and yes, a burden that’s worth the commitment to better the Kingdom (of God). The point isn’t that every word I’ve edited is the best Oneness English available. The point is that the tower I started is incomplete and ineffective until you finish it with a Spirit-led delivery. My joy comes only with your success.
ninetyandnine.com © 2004, Kent d Curry --------- Kent d Curry is an Executive Editor of ninetyandnine.com. |
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