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| a portrait one of my students drew of "Miss Barbara" |
I have had a lot of opportunities
to teach this past year. Miss Barbara
stood in the classroom and taught 20 kindergarteners in the afterschool program
(she also has 17 more for the first few weeks of summer!). Babs stepped onto the basketball court and
taught some friends the basics of the game.
Barbara sat at a kitchen table with Salma working on conversational
English. B was in the kitchen of the
volunteer house showing friends how to make a pumpkin roll.
So while I have spent much of my
time teaching, I have to admit that I do not know everything and I do not have
all the answers. In many cases, there
are some things I wish I had known sooner.
The following comes from two of my journal entries this year.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today was my last lesson with Salma. I didn’t think that it would be so
hard to say good-bye. I loved the part
of our lessons at the end when we were done with the lesson plan and we just
talked. Well, she did most of the
talking. . .in Spanish. I just listened.
Today she thanked me for being a good teacher and for having a lot of patience
with her. She told me about a teacher
she’s had that was not patient or even kind.
She was uncomfortable in class and was scared to say anything for fear
of giving the wrong answer. I’m so glad
I didn’t make her feel like that. Then
she talked about her family—how her parents and most of her brothers are still
in Mexico. She told me that she knows she’s poor here,
but that they are even poorer back in Mexico. She told me that it’s hard here but she has
to keep fighting for her family. It’s
better for her kids here. She’s so much
stronger than I gave her credit for.
Then she said something that I will never forget. She said that she really enjoyed our time
together because it was 1 to 2 hours out of the week when she could focus on
something else and not think about how hard her life is.
Whoa. . .1 to 2 hours of respite
is all you get in a week. 1 to 2 hours
of peace in your mind. 1 to 2 hours of
calm from the incessant barrage of thoughts infiltrating your mind and
overtaking your very being. 1 to 2
hours, and I was that for you. I wish I
had given you more. If I had known that
I would have given you all of my free time—every last second. The things I do in my life are not nearly as
important as giving you that haven. I
had no idea that’s the kind of impact my second rate English lessons had on
you. It was so much more than just a
class. Why didn’t I see that
sooner? Thank you Salma for your time
and patience with me as a teacher and for all of the lessons you taught
me. No human interaction is
worthless. Hold on to that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I saw Jose with his mom today.
He was walking slow like he usually does—looking around, dawdling, just
being 5 years old. She was behind him,
nails done, designer sunglasses on, pushing him. Using a disgusted tone of voice to say to
him, “can’t you move any faster?”
Talking to him like he’s not even a person. Talking to him like what she says to him and
how she treats him won’t affect him and his sense of self worth for the rest of
his life. And pushing him like he was
some shopping cart with a broken wheel that makes it impossible to steer
straight. You know, that shopping cart
that you are annoyed with and you take some physical frustration out on it—and
God forbid if it’s also one of the squeaky ones. But he’s not some inanimate object. You can’t put him back in the cart return and
hope that you get a better selection next time.
He’s a person. He’s a child. He’s your son and you are not doing him any
justice or giving him the love he needs.
I saw Jose and his mom get into a big, shiny, black Escalade and drive
away. They have money. They don’t need a free summer camp—but Jose
needs us. He needs patience and guidance
and love from us. Maybe this is easy for
me to say because he’s not in my class for summer camp. It’s hard to manage a student like him when
you have a full classroom. I wish I had
known how his mom treats him. I didn’t
ask for him to be removed from my afterschool class, but I was happy when he
was. He was so hard to deal with—but can
we blame him? He gets no reinforcement
of rules at home. Instead of affection
and guidance he gets stuff. . .lots of stuff to appease him so he won’t make a
fuss. No wonder he thinks throwing fits
will get him what he wants. I used to
just get annoyed with him. Now I know
why he needed so much patience and why he craved so much affection. It just goes to show that everyone has a
story and maybe we would be better equipped to deal with people if we took the
time to listen to their life songs. Hold
on to that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I firmly believe that I have
received more knowledge through my experiences as a teacher than I have passed
on. Without even knowing it, the tables
were turned on me and I became the student.
Miss Barbara roamed the hallways
of the school and learned what it means to walk with bubbles and
ducktails. Babs took the soccer field
and learned how to properly kick a futbol (it’s still a process). Barbara stood in Salma’s front
yard and learned how to tell if a papaya is ripe or not. B sat at the counter learning how to make the
best stir fry ever (Julie will always be better than me at this).
These are just the simple
everyday lessons. I also gained
invaluable life knowledge that I don’t want to ever let go of. Such as, “No human interaction is worthless,”
and “Everyone has a story. . .take the time to listen.” And so while I wish I had known some of
these things sooner, I am grateful that I have had the grace and opportunity to
learn them.
Hold on to that.
Peace Out
Love,
Babs
p.s. As per usual the names have been changed. I also apologize for any horrible grammar or misuse of punctuation in my journal entries. Y'all just got to experience some classic Babs stream of consciousness :)
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