This story begins a year ago when I was first starting my classes. The family had just moved into the area and had heard about the program from a friend. The mom registered the daughter eagerly, but confessed the girl had never taken a similar class and wasn't sure what to expect. I reassured her everything would be fine and that we would have a great time in class. At least I fully believed we would.
I've never publicly noted this, but the first couple days of class were a disaster. And may have included long, introspective sits in my car, my head resting pitifully on my steering wheel with thoughts like, "What in the HECK am I doing?" ringing in my head like a broken record blasted over the PA system of a concrete warehouse.
I picked myself up and dusted my sorry self off and went back to the drawing board, cloistering myself away at the computer until I figured. it. out. I emerged a week later--already feeling better about things.
Although my resolve to not quit improved, the class didn't immediately. Classroom management was hard. And a big part of it was that the daughter of this sweet woman was a very emotionally demanding student. I was at a loss of what to do.
I consulted friends, family and even elementary school teachers. Most said drop her. But somewhere in my heart, I just couldn't feel right about doing that. One seasoned school teacher wisely suggested I get her mom involved. So, I tried, indirectly (by way of emailing all parents), to nudge this mother to some sort of save-me-now action. I've since learned the value of direct communication with one's clients.
I finally asked this mom if she could come and sit with her daughter during class. She responded so nicely and said that she would do her best to make it happen. And she did. And it helped.
But, it wasn't until about halfway through that insane semester that I learned something of that mother's soul. Through friends of friends, I found out that this sweet mother had four children. She had challenges with her daughter beyond what I originally assumed. She also had a military husband in the throes of medical school. She also had cancer. And it wasn't her first bout with it, either.
At once I was hit with a wave of guilt and relief: I felt foolish for being so frustrated, and yes, unfairly judgemental, but so grateful I had followed those quiet feelings of my heart.
As the semester finished out, this little girl came to the final performance, dressed in her sparkling costume, with curled hair, a subdued manner, and a mom who was absolutely beaming. After the show, her mother thanked me for the opportunity to watch her daughter on stage and told me how happy it made her.
Sadly, it would be a first and a last.
My life was touched in many ways by this duo. My desire to be more patient, more graceful in suffering, more charitable, more optimistic, and more uplifting in conversation was heightened. As was my desire to rededicate myself to living by the ubiquitous maxim,
"Be kinder than necessary...for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."
I consulted friends, family and even elementary school teachers. Most said drop her. But somewhere in my heart, I just couldn't feel right about doing that. One seasoned school teacher wisely suggested I get her mom involved. So, I tried, indirectly (by way of emailing all parents), to nudge this mother to some sort of save-me-now action. I've since learned the value of direct communication with one's clients.
I finally asked this mom if she could come and sit with her daughter during class. She responded so nicely and said that she would do her best to make it happen. And she did. And it helped.
But, it wasn't until about halfway through that insane semester that I learned something of that mother's soul. Through friends of friends, I found out that this sweet mother had four children. She had challenges with her daughter beyond what I originally assumed. She also had a military husband in the throes of medical school. She also had cancer. And it wasn't her first bout with it, either.
At once I was hit with a wave of guilt and relief: I felt foolish for being so frustrated, and yes, unfairly judgemental, but so grateful I had followed those quiet feelings of my heart.
As the semester finished out, this little girl came to the final performance, dressed in her sparkling costume, with curled hair, a subdued manner, and a mom who was absolutely beaming. After the show, her mother thanked me for the opportunity to watch her daughter on stage and told me how happy it made her.
Sadly, it would be a first and a last.
My life was touched in many ways by this duo. My desire to be more patient, more graceful in suffering, more charitable, more optimistic, and more uplifting in conversation was heightened. As was my desire to rededicate myself to living by the ubiquitous maxim,
"Be kinder than necessary...for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."
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