With tears in her eyes a parent admitted her child was struggling in every class, except in History. When asked why, she spoke softly but confidently, “because he likes history, because he likes you.” The tears she didn’t let fall marked a moment in time.
I saw flashbacks of her child in tears a few months ago during a History exam because he couldn’t finish the paper. I remembered leading him to a quiet office space, sitting down with him, and asking him kindly what he knew and guiding him to write down those thoughts. The exam didn’t matter. He mattered. His well-being mattered. Showing him love and kindness when he was most vulnerable mattered.
I’m reminded of Lewis Mumford who once wrote, “Loving underlies effective learning: indeed, it is the basis of all cultural transference and interchange.” In that moment, in words spoken and unspoken, the parent acknowledged she had borne witness to that love. The love her child felt from his History teacher. The love that was the reason he tried his best in History class. The sunlight shone brightly through the window.
That same morning I had walked into my old classroom. On the whiteboard was the following message. The mystery students hadn’t known I would be in that room that day. I hadn’t been in that room all year. They could not have predicted I would see their message. And yet before leaving school two days earlier they had taken the time to write a message on the wall. Leaving aside the pure hyperbole of the words, they too might be acknowledging that love.
The love is profound and runs deep. I would not have known this had it not been for the desert. Those hours spent wandering around cacti in the Sonoran brought me closer to an understanding of the invisible forces that charge our lives. At least the forces that charge mine. Despite the darkness, defeated and still lingering, the light shines through. In the acknowledgement of others bearing witness to the light, love blossoms. The reason to be, to continue, to never give in runs deep.
The love they feel is mutual. It has to be if teaching is to be effective. Perhaps that feeling is the only thing that matters. Years from now, rather than anything from the curriculum, I hope they remember the love.
