A Lesson Taught by an 8 Year-Old

Sherry was a tough little third grader in my counseling group at a local elementary school.  Sherry had to be a tough cookie – as she was a witness to her sister being shot and killed by a drug dealer.  Other kids in my counseling group had similar stories – one’s mom was found dead in a ditch . . . tough situations, tough kids, tough behaviors.  Sherry would be suspended three times during her third grade year due to defiant behavior!   I had to use a behavior modification system ((which I personally abhor) to check in with them every 10 minutes.

But who could blame them?  – such horrible situations in their short lives.  As the principal stated, “These third graders have experienced more trauma in their young lives then I will experience in my whole lifetime."  Well, Sherry was especially defiant this day – I wasn’t feeling so patient, tolerant, or compassionate on that day.  So with a brush-off wave of my hand I said, “Sherry – just go back to class.”  With head down, she returned to her class.  The group met the last period of each Tuesday.  I would send the kids to their respective buses after that.  Sherry did not take the bus, walked home from the school. After school on this day, Sherry returned to my meeting area– staying shyly on the periphery as I straightened up.  I made eye contact with her and she moved ever so slowly towards me like the boy and the fox in The Little Prince.  I was ready to make the adult-in-charge-type-statement.  As I knew Sherry loved the group time, I was about to say, “See if you learn to behave yourself, you would be allowed to stay in the group.”  I opened my mouth and these words come out instead, “I missed you today.  You are very special to me.”  With her big black eyes (even bigger at that moment) staring intensely at me, she stated, “I don’t feel very special.”  And this kid, who never cried, had a few big teardrops flow from her eyes.  I said, with eyes that were probably as big, black, and intense as hers at that moment, “Well, you are very special to me.”  And big teardrops rolled from my eyes. This was a peak experience for me, an experience that can only be explained as one heart purely and literally touching another heart.  No more was said – Sherry’s behavior was fine for the rest of the year.”

50 Years to Learn This Lesson

Clorinda, a 50 year old Navajo, woman was very quiet – as is the norm for Navajo women.  She didn’t say much in class – but that is not how I judge class participation.  I do not listen for the voice – I look to the eyes for engagement. She was engaged throughout the entire course.  It was her turn to present her Celebration of Learning – the class final project whereby each student presents her significant class learnings through art, song, dance, drama, story – any method that works for her learning style.  Clorinda stood proudly in front of the class in her Navajo clothing – using a poster to describe how the class material mirrored those symbols of corn.  Corn signifies many important aspects of Navajo culture.  She then turned to her second poster – the one she had hand-drawn.  She began her disclosure of the personal significance of the course and started to cry.  Through her tears, she stated, “I learned in this class that I was not stupid.”  I cannot  repeat this story within crying myself.  I do so as I write this – I do so every semester for the last 6 years when I show other students the possibilities for their final project.  I cry I do not understand how this beautiful woman got the message she was stupid. I cry because it took her 50 years to realize she is not.  I cry for all the other children (and the children living inside us as adults) who have received and are receiving this message.

Planting Seeds

Be an opener of doors for such as come after thee.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

My job at the Human Services Agency revolved around a group of kids who were in residential treatment due to home problems, difficulties with the law, and mental health issues.  We met twice a week and every other Saturday.  The experiential education focus included outdoor activities, group discussions, and community service. Mark was in treatment due to drug dealing and substance abuse.  He was an embarrassment to his family as his grandfather was the county commissioner.  Even so, Mark was a natural in the program loving and excelling in the outdoor pursuits; and taking a positive leadership role.  I adored Mark and could really count on him – putting him informally in an assistant leader position.Mark was in my program for the full year and a half that I ran it.  I kept in touch after I left – last word at that time was Mark returned home and began drug dealing again.  Needless to say, my heart broke.That was about 15 years ago.  Last year I received an email asking me if I was the Jackie, who had worked for TCHS.  It was Mark.  He returned my “Yes, it is me,” with photos of him rock climbing, winter camping, and sailing as well as the following message:“Jackie, I am about to embark on a sailing trip around South America.  During the trip, the three of us plan to help build schools in this country.  As you can see, you helped me learn the outdoor skills that I now love.  But more importantly, you helped to instill some great values.”The gift was the one that all true teachers seek . . . I had made a difference in someone’s life.  The lesson I learned – the seeds we leave as teachers often take years to grow into full maturity.