As the students cleared out of my classroom at the end of the day, I leaned back in my chair, staring at the peeling painter’s tape framing a poster in the front of the class of Christ washing the feet of his apostles. It hadn’t been a bad day, but it hadn’t been a good day, either. My colleague—a good friend who accompanies me, sharing concerns and joys about teaching and life—entered the room. Neither of us said anything until I asked, “What am I doing when I come into the classroom?” This question was born out of frustration, but it was sincere. And it had been on my mind for weeks. He offered some words of encouragement. We talked for quite a while. But nothing satisfied my question.