ParaProfessional Training Reveals Heart of Guiding Students at Hillcrest
The room itself carried a quiet sense of purpose. Papers were spread across tables. Pens hovered. Conversations flickered between reflection and anticipation. But at the center of it all was a shared understanding: this was not just about techniques, it was about people. About children. About souls.
At Hillcrest, formation is never left to chance. It is cultivated, intentionally, relationally, and biblically, through a faculty and staff who are themselves continually being trained and equipped. This week, that commitment took on fresh clarity as Ms. Julie gathered the lower school paraprofessionals for a focused, deeply practical training, one that moved beyond classroom management and into the sacred work of shaping hearts.
Ms. Julie began with clarity and direction: “Today’s purpose is to talk about how to respond to student behavior, with a lens of grace, truth, and discipleship.” Not one of those words can stand alone. Grace without truth becomes permissive. Truth without grace becomes harsh. Discipleship without both becomes hollow. But together, they form the foundation of a distinctly Christian approach to education, one that Hillcrest staff are continually learning to live out.
From there, Ms. Julie anchored the training in a powerful biblical image, the Mercy Seat. She explained that this was not simply a new name for “take a break,” but a reorientation of the entire philosophy: “We want to keep aligning everything back to Jesus. Everything back to the Bible.” Drawing from the story of Miriam, who was cast out and later restored, she painted a picture of discipline not as exile, but as a pathway to redemption.
One of the most defining moments of the training came when Ms. Julie reframed the role of the paraprofessional. With quiet conviction, she told them: “You’re not just a helper. You are shepherds in the moment.” That statement settled into the room. Because it elevated everything. In those in-between spaces, hallways, desks, corners of classrooms, paraprofessionals are not filling gaps. They are stepping into ministry.
There is a weight to that calling, but also a freedom. Unlike the teacher who must keep the class moving, the para has the gift of time. Time to kneel beside a child. Time to listen. Time to speak truth that might otherwise be rushed past. And in those moments, the real work of formation happens.
The training then moved into the practical clear and repeatable steps that bring structure to emotionally complex moments. Ms. Julie laid them out with clarity, not as theory, but as tools to be used immediately.
Perhaps one of the most compelling examples Julie shared was a real interaction with a student struggling with honesty. Feeling stuck, she turned to Scripture, opening Proverbs in front of the student. Together, they read. They talked about truth, about joy, about the weight of a crushed spirit. And then she spoke directly into his identity: “God created you to be truthful.” “God created you to be a joy-bringer.”
You could see, she said, “the wheels turning.” This is what discipleship looks like, not in a sermon, but in a moment. Not from a stage, but beside a child.
As the year enters its final stretch, Ms. Julie named a reality every educator feels: fatigue. The fourth quarter is long. Energy wanes. Patience is tested. But instead of retreating, she issued a focused charge: “Pick one to two students.” Not ten. Not all. Just one or two. “Who needs extra love? Who have you been battling with? Who needs you to see them differently?”
Then she gave them a plan:
Greet them by name
Make eye contact
Look for small wins
Speak consistent identity over them
Simple. Repeatable. Transformative. She offered examples of phrases to anchor the work:
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You are a leader.”
“I see kindness in you.”
“You are growing in self-control.”
And she paired with that, the discipline of noticing:
“I noticed you waited patiently, that was responsible.”
“You used kind words, that was respectful.”
This is how culture is built, not in grand gestures, but in repeated, intentional moments.
As the training closed, Ms. Julie grounded the entire conversation in calling. “You don’t have a contract, you have a call.” Because this work is ministry. It is messy. It is tiring. It often feels unseen. But it is deeply meaningful.
She reminded the paras that when students look back on their school years, it is often not just the teachers they remember, but the ones who saw them. The ones who greeted them. The ones who stayed steady. And so she left them with both a challenge and a promise: “Let us not grow weary in doing good.”
Because every moment at the Mercy Seat, every whispered truth, every calm presence in the chaos is shaping a child’s understanding of who they are. The training is one step in a joyous journey in an understanding that is rooted in something unshakable: Students are known, they are loved, and they belong, to God.