Today Is Enough

I usually stay after class on Monday and Thursday nights to either do homework or work on these notes. I like having an academic space to myself. It’s peaceful and makes me feel very scholarly, not to mention it doesn’t allow me to climb into my bed and sleep. Tonight, however, I knew that staying after class was not an option. I accidently left my travel charger at church, so when Willard’s battery ran down toward the end of class, Willard was out of commission until I got home. So…I went to dinner with a friend I hadn’t seen in awhile, and it was nice—sitting, eating, talking, catching up.

As I thought about this unusual Thursday night meal on the way home tonight, I thought back to the note I wrote a few weeks ago about showing up. I thought about how extremely important relationships are and how essential it is to make time for them. I thought about how grateful I was to find myself without a computer charger on the same day that thoughts of cinnamon flavored coffee prompted me to write my friend who is allergic to cinnamon and make plans to have a late, cinnamon-free dinner. And then I found myself thinking about a couple of my students who made my heart swell with pride this afternoon.

I’ve heard a lot of really difficult things this week. In context of Red Ribbon Week, I’ve listened to stories of bullying and drug use that have left me feeling sad. So this afternoon, when I watched two of my students who started the year giving me nothing but attitude and trouble doing their best to pay attention and listen while a good portion of the rest of their class acted as if I wasn’t even there, I found myself feeling a small amount of joy. These two students were part of a group of students who I’d asked to do an alternative music assignment in a separate setting one week. Instead of filing away their written work as busy work, I decided to read it carefully and write encouraging, interactive comments on their papers. I returned their papers to them and wondered if the comments had made a difference.

I don’t know if it was the comments, or a conscious decision on my part to more intentionally try to show loving-kindness, or an attitude shift in my heart that helped me remember that even my toughest kids are still just kids, or if it was my deliberately speaking to these particular students each morning and calling them over for the hugs that many other students daily seek out…but something seems to have shifted in the students about which I speak, and they have actually started to show an interest in music—which is something they had not done in three years—and a respect for me as their teacher—which is something they hadn’t done either.

After class, I called over one of the students and asked, point blank, what had caused the behavior change. “I got suspended because of how I had been acting, and I don’t want to get suspended again.” Part of this student’s suspension was because of behaviors in my class. I guess the suspension served its purpose…yet I have to believe that something more has shifted inside this student. Either way, I gently placed my hands on the students’ shoulders and spoke aloud how proud I was of the change—how proud I was that I was finally able to see the goodness that I knew was there. As I spoke, my eyes filled with tears that I quickly denied when another student said, “Are you crying?!”

A friend once told me that her job as a residential social worker was to love the hell out of her clients. I immediately took the phrase to heart and decided to make that one of my goals as a teacher. And guess what, friends? I’m learning—really learning—that the only way to truly do this is through relationships. And I’m being reminded that relationships take time—sometimes even years—to grow to the place where walls begin to come down and trust begins to peak through. My cinnamon-averse friend and I had to work to that place of trust. But we arrived. And had a good dinner tonight. Maybe some of my students and I are arriving, too? Or if nothing else, we arrived today. And for now, today is enough.