Laura Lee

(From 2010)

What restores faith/ hope in humankind

A BIG test day, stressful for all–students, teachers, administrators. A bad speaker filling the time before kids could leave.

Hundreds of edgy kids, antsy to get out on this beautiful spring day. They behaved so well considering all–the speaker didn’t relate well to kids, didn’t know his material, and was boring.

Two boys hung back, nodding off, and I thought..that’s the mature thing to do. Don’t get in trouble, just chill out for a while.

I watched them. They nodded to each other in some type of secret language only they knew.

One asked for a pass. It was strictly forbidden, not on a test date–to have kids in the hall. How embarrassing for a young person to ask an unknown female teacher to ALLOW him to use the restroom, but I also knew we wanted to keep the school quiet for the juniors taking the PSAE.

I would be his human hall pass. We got to talking in the hall, and he told me just a year ago, he would have been getting into trouble on a day like this, boring days.

I understood, asked about the looks between the two boys, and he explained it was his half-brother, and it was their code to help each other stay out of trouble. Just to let each other know how silly it all was, but also–to help each other stay out of trouble.

That’s very wise, I told him. I worry about my freshmen.

Oh, no, last year I couldn’t do this, he said. He was now on the track team and football team, not really good at either one, but trying his best. He said he was beginning to appreciate the opportunities he had here in the suburbs.

Click.

Here in the suburbs.

He used to hang out with older boys in the city, he said, but that just led to trouble.

Your teammates, like friends now, I asked.

Yes, he said. Not really friends, but at least friendly.

His brother came out and we talked. The younger one was not quite as sharp, could use an older brother’s guidance I could tell, and he kept looking to his brother for answers.

So and so teacher was bothering him and he wasn’t doing anything wrong, the younger brother complained.

Not worth getting in trouble, other brother said. Just say yes, excuse me, and think about after school, about track. Think about other things.

Big smiles.

A coach went by and said, they are good boys. Good kids. I can tell, I told him. They aren’t giving you any trouble, he asked. Oh, no, I said. They are helping me.

I wish you would talk to my freshmen, I said, I worry about them.

Now we were strangers just minutes before, but a connection had been made. They knew it was silly to be watching this presentation from a poor speaker but that there are rules to follow and just to get through the day and get to the opportunities.

The older brother told me he started out with a rough life, from deep down south, and he knew how good we had it here in school. He said his mother wanted much for him. I could hear a bit of southern drawl to his speech now that he mentioned the deep south.

I thanked his mother silently, for she had taught him valuable lessons: respect, kindness, looking out for his younger brother who just wasn’t as sharp somehow.

Later, during another speech, the younger brother fell asleep. He was not alone–it was warm, the speaker wasn’t very good, and many kids fell asleep.

But for some reason, it bothered a teacher that the younger boy fell asleep. His head ended up on his older brother’s shoulder.

I don’t know about you, but two big boys who can help each other stay good and feel secure enough to not push his brother away?

To me, that says mentor, supportive, and more.

Big brother turned around, looked at me and I was so hoping he would simply take his own advice.

I’ll wake up my brother, he said softly. Sorry, Miss. He is just tired.

Brother. Yes, brother. The other teacher visibly relaxed. How was she to know they were brothers. She wouldn’t know.

In the hall later, older brother said he nearly snapped since they weren’t doing anything wrong. They were not. Younger brother fell asleep for a moment and rested his head. it wasn’t in class. They were quiet. Others were sleeping.

But he’d just given me advice for the freshmen and didn’t want to disappoint me, a total stranger.

*******************

Somehow, this encounter with two boys I’d never even seen before gives me hope. Freshmen do grow up. Brothers can help brothers.

To be honest, I don’t know if they are blood brothers or good friends, but it doesn’t matter to me.

If we all had such a brother, one who could say–hey, it’s tough at times, but think about your future–take the opportunities we have, use them, create a life for yourself–I think our world would be a better place.

**********************

Later in the day, I saw the same coach and asked him about the brothers. He wasn’t sure they were brothers–maybe, maybe not. But they were good boys. Yes, I could tell, I told him. You sure they weren’t bothering you, he asked, and I knew–these might have been boys who had been in trouble in the past.

Oh, no trouble at all, I told the coach, in fact, they were helping me.


*******************

And this is why I think it is a blessing to be a teacher. To witness this fragile resilience in some kids, this kindness and strength coming out of struggle. I would even call it nobility–yes, noble behavior from teenagers.

But it is fragile. Fragile, needs our help to keep going. I never know if I am doing the right thing–I try, I keep asking for help, I hope, oh I hope I am doing the right things.

And counting my blessings.

(Image from the Creative Commons)