If Only For a Moment

I'm not in the business of teaching to tell kids how to live their lives. I figure my job is to give them the right tools to muddle through, to help them learn enough about themselves and the world to understand what the best choices might be. But every now and then, I get up on my high horse and offer a lecture sure to make them rethink every move they'll ever make . . . or so it feels. Today, I delivered a doosy.

The troops spent the day yesterday on a field trip where the discussions and activities focused on the topic of courage. By the end of the day, the leaders had worn the kids down to their emotional cores, and when they take it seriously, it's a journey that can change the course of the school year for many. Not the case so much this year.

Last hour today, Student A pulled a chair out from under Student B. Sadly, a normal occurrence with the sevens. But Student B was M. A. D. and carrying baggage from similar incidents. He stood up, hit Student A, and began to yell, "You're stupid! You are all stupid!" at every laughing kid in the room. This merely made the populace taunt and tease with greater zeal. Meanwhile, my heart was breaking and my anger rising.

This is when the movie theme music kicked in. Something from Dead Poets Society or Stand and Deliver. "That's enough!" I shouted. As I don't yell much, the laughter ceased immediately.

"What are you doing?" I went on. "Just stop and think about what you are doing. This is tearing me apart. I don't know what you believe you learned about courage yesterday, but today, I am sad to say I see NONE of it in this classroom."

(This is where the violins get really loud.)

"I am looking at twenty smart and good people right now, and once, just once, I would like for you to have the courage to do what you KNOW is right instead of doing what everyone else is doing. Be that strong. If you do indeed have the courage."

I'd like to say that tears fell and sincere apologies were made, but really, we just went on with the lesson.

Later, a kind and savvy girl, one with her own brand of courage, pulled me aside. "Ms. D," she whispered. "I counted twenty-two students in here. Not twenty. So, which two are the really dumb and mean ones?"

She had saved me from my serious self and I thought she had earned this response: "I'm not really allowed to say, but you should know that there are more like five of them." Then we had a good laugh and the credits rolled.