This article was written by our associate and is intended to remind us all that, as educators,
our directive to promote truth and understanding never changes.
Happy
graduation: This year, a group of my kindergarten children will be
graduating from high school. As the teacher who escorted them into this, now ending
season of academic achievement, I am both proud and hopeful. Proud of all the boys
and girls who made it to the finish line, and hopeful that each will continue on a journey
of self-discovery. Especially Octavious.
Twelve years ago:
Octavious was big for his five years, with bright eyes and a smile that lit up the room. His name said it all. Like an octave, he was a totally self-contained musical interval.
We all loved being
in his presence. He was confident, capable,
and paternal. Our classroom was his flock,
and he pastored with compassion and grace. If there were a dispute between students, he would skillfully mediate until it was resolved. Broken hearts were mended and sick children
comforted by this classroom minister. Octavious’
mother and I were careful to nurture this remarkable child’s gift while
guiding him to remain within the boundaries of appropriate behavior. But we both knew that at times, when he deviated
beyond the limits of conventional behavior, his intent was pure. We simply explained the consequences that such an
impulse had on the rest of the class, and he would comply. But not everyone in the school understood the
passion that fueled Octavious.
Other teachers would ask me how I could tolerate his
disruptive behavior. But he was not
disruptive. He was simply driven by his need
to shepherd. And it was our job, as
educators, to direct his passion toward appropriate channels, while nurturing the gift.
Ten years ago: After the school year ended, I moved away and did not hear from Octavious for several years. Then one day a letter came. The childlike writing – as big and emphatic as its author – told a sad tale. Octavious was in the principal’s office again. To keep him occupied, the principal had told him to write me a
letter. As I read between the lines, I could see that Octavious spent a lot of time in this special seat of correction. I took the opportunity to write him back. I told him that he was special. I told him that he was a leader and that it was
important for leaders to follow the school rules. What
I did not tell him was that his teacher needed to focus less on absolute obedience and
more on nurturing his gift. Yes, he was impulsive. But he was also bright, compassionate, and
capable. "Work to his strengths," I
wanted to say. "Let him use that
pastoral anointing to begin a class-mentoring program. Let him teach mediating skills. Let his gift flow!"
To Octavious, my
wonderful musical interval ...
May
all of your dreams be realized. |