I love those moments in life when you find peace and resolution to old hurts. It's those moments when you get to give a hug to the little girl or little boy inside of you and say, "See, you turned okay, afterall." Today, was one of those days for me.
As a 7th grader at a particular junior high, I was awkward, painfully shy, an introvert and one academically gifted "nerd" who was capable of feeling an unusual amount of empathy. I didn't feel like I belonged anywhere, though I desperately wanted to belong somewhere. You know those kids. They are the ones who make blankets for homeless people by saving all their babysitting money, but none of their peers really know them since these kids find it excruciatingly painful to start a conversation with someone. These kids sound great to adults. They are so polite, people-pleasing, quiet, but often they have a hard time trudging through adolescence with their peers. They want to be the cheerleader, but clumsiness gets the better of them. They want to be the drama star, but their voice is too soft to project. They want to be the jovial class clown sometimes, but it's not in their DNA. Their introverted nature begs them to do all they can to avoid centerstage...heck, to even avoid the whole theater if they can.
This introverted nature can pose a problem in the classroom sometimes, too. As an educator, I try to be very aware of these students and to provide them what they need. I did not have this type of educator in my 7th grade language arts class. She was rigid, exclusive and ultimately concerned that she was wearing the latest fashion. I was not her favorite. I knew this. My parents weren't doctors, and I couldn't care less that she drove a white Mercedes-Benz with lots of chrome adornment. I loved my dad's Volkswagen Bug! It was the best! It screamed fun, laughter and kindess. Her car screamed, "Don't touch me. I'm better than you." I remember that Benz because she took great pangs to tell us not to scratch her key hole when we unlocked her door if ever we fetched "stuff" she had left in it. I hated that car. I would say unkind things in my head everytime she gave the "keyhole" speech to a student, and I wondered why she just didn't go get the stuff herself if it was important not to scratch that keyhole.
I recall on one occasion she polled the class to see which former elementary schools had sent us to her. I was from Warlick. It was a sweet little elementary school with a family-like nature (interesting that it is now an alternative school). I was loved and cherished, and for the first time this shy little girl felt valuable at school, and it began there at Warlick. I LOVED Warlick! My teacher did not love Warlick. Warlick was not the affluent school in my junior high school's feeder, so my teacher was not impressed. She would often voice her beliefs, "Oh, I see. That makes sense now. You came from so and so"...or "You came from Warlick".
A day that will forever be etched in my memory was prepostional phrase day. This day was a turning point for me forever. I was having a day where I was quite unfocused. I was overthinking everything as introverts often do. We notice what others do not notice in a room, and my empathetic, intuitive nature allows me to feel what others miss. So, I was thinking, overthinking, rethinking, postulating and not focused on finding the prepositions and prepositional phrases that we were discussing in our assigned rote and practice text. I was academically gifted and this was SO boring to me! Finally, while I was solving world peace on Mars, my teacher called on me to respond. I hadn't even heard the question. I had NO clue what the answer was. I asked her would she repeat the question. She promptly let me know she would not. I should have been paying attention Nevertheless, I was still required to answer this elusive question. She waited for what felt like hours. All eyes were on me. I began calling out words, phrases, sentences, pulling needles out of haystacks and sending up S.O.S. signals like mad. Each attempt was met with a negative response and great displeasure. The class waited on me. There was no direction from her, and I clearly would have answered correctly had I known the question. My gifted area is language arts. Minutes passed in this humiliating predicament. My brain was scrambling. My heart was pounding. My cheeks were scarlet. My eyes kept meeting hers begging for help. None was to be found. Finally, there was a defining moment for me. This people-pleasing, obedient, rule-following young lady snapped. I decided I could wait and stare at her as long as she could wait. I decided I would try no more. I wasn't going to call out any more words for her little charade. She could help me or we could play a game of standoff. I didn't care, and I inteneded to win. We waited. She asked for a response. I stared. She told me to look at my text. I stared. She prompted. I stared. Finally, she asked the question that I missed. I stared. I was done, and ultimately I won. The sad thing is I lost the battle for learning something new. I missed an educational opportunity though I won the battle of wits.
I learned so much that day that I carry with me now. I learned that I will never humiliate a child like that in my care. I will endeavor to do all I can to make each child feel valuable. I will repeat a question if needed. I will help each child feel a part of the community. Most importantly, I will NEVER give the keyhole speech (never have and I have had more than a few students "fetch" things for me).
Today, as I got to teach in that same school where I had been a student myself. The classroom where I was teaching and all the rest in that building looked vastly different from my former experience as a student there. I was grateful. There was laughter, learning, kindess, engagement. I took a few moments to pass the room where I had spent hours with this teacher many years ago. The same room where I stared at the clock on the last day of school and said a sincere pray of thanks that God had helped me survive that year. I paused and stared at lockers near this old room. I looked at the new name plate over the door; and I smiled. I hugged the little Lisa inside of me, and said, "The answer is: 'to the store', Mrs. So and So. There is your prepositional phrase, and thank you for making me a better educator. Thank you for teaching me one of the greatest lessons in my career. Because of you, my children wanted to learn in my class, today. They thanked me. They smiled. I smiled, too. I am sorry you missed what a joy it is to smile with your students, but I am thankful that you showed me what not to do. So, there ya have it, Mrs. So and so...'to the store' is the answer.
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