Nearly twenty years ago, I taught at a very rural high school where I had the leisure of an entire school year to explore my profound inability to discipline tenth graders.  The school was so rural that when students heard my California accent, their first question was to ask me if I was from “off”.  This referred to anyone that came from outside their county of around six thousand citizens.  “Yes,” I assured them, “I am from way “off”.  And it was here, at this little country high school that I learned that God answers prayer in crazy ways sometimes. I had a co-worker I will call “Jane” who was…