The Rest of the Story

I love my job.  I love my students.  But MY GOODNESS every once in a while, there's a kid who, well, requires a little extra patience. I can remember the day a little boy moved backed into our district and sauntered into my class, chip on his shoulder and frown on his face. I'm not normally a Negative Nancy when it comes to my students, but I remember thinking "Oh boy... here we go again."  Here was a kid who talked all the time, rarely followed directions, and was CONSTANTLY begging for attention any way he could get it.  Once, after working an entire class period on one paper, I said, "Okay class!  Keep your papers looking nice until you get home so you can show them off to your parents!"  -- And the kid immediately crumpled up his paper and dramatically marched to the trash can and threw it away.  He always seemed so unpleasant, like he was angry at the world.  

A few years later, that little boy is now my son.  All of those classroom memories make so much more sense now that I know the rest of the story.  He is one of the kindest, most loving and thoughtful kids that you'll ever meet.  But a little angry at the world?  He has every right to be.

The rest of his story is not mine to tell, but I'm happy to talk about how he stole a piece of my heart and reminded me that everyone deserves to have their story heard.  Don't pass judgment when you don't really understand what's going on.

Of course, it's easier said than done, and every once in a while I need another reminder.

Like last week.  Another sweet son of mine (we'll call him "Liam") was having trouble speaking calmly and kindly to big brother.  (Okay, it was definitely a two-way street, and big brother faced consequences too... but that's not really an important part of the story.)  Because Liam was unable to fix the problem on his own, my husband and I asked him to write a one-page paper about why showing love is important.

The first thing Liam said after hearing his assignment was, "I don't get it."

I replied, "Liam.  Write about why it's important to show that you love someone even when you're frustrated or upset with them.  Why is it important to remember that we always love each other?"

Again, "I don't get it."

And being the brilliant, thoughtful parent that I am, I said, "You're fine. Write the paper."

The paper went unwritten for a long time.  I gave Liam all sorts of incentives, like:  "The paper will be done by tonight or you'll owe me 30 push-ups."  (He chose the push-ups.)  "People who have finished all of their chores and have finished writing any papers they owe me may play video games."  (He chose to not play video games.)

My husband finally stepped in and had a man-to-man talk with Liam.  That night, Liam finished the paper.

I was thrilled!  I thanked my husband and gushed about what a good influence he was on our sweet Liam.  

But then I read the paper.

"Why Love is Important:

They help me with homework.

They are nice to me.

They love me a lot.

They play with me.

They share with me.

They keep an eye on me.

They don't yell at me.

They tell good things.

They keep me safe.

They play sports with me."  ...etc.

I turned around and walked straight back to my husband.  EXPLAIN YOURSELF.  All Liam did was make a list of things WE do for HIM.  What in the world does that have to do with "Why Love is Important"?!?!?!

That's when he told me about the conversation he and Liam had during their 'man-to-man' time:

"Liam, why haven't you written your paper?"

"I don't understand it."

"Aren't you just supposed to write about why love is important?"

"Yes sir, but I don't get it."

"Liam, write about why showing us that you love us is important. I know you love your siblings and your mom and me.  You say so every night at bedtime."

"But, Dad, I thought that's just something you say.  Like, good night, and hello.  Stuff like that."  

"Do you know what love means?"

"No sir."

And so Liam wrote a paper, not about what love is or why it's important to show it, but about what love looks like.  It's helping with homework, even though there are a million other things I could be doing.  It's being nice... even when he's DRIVING ME INSANE.  It's playing with him and sharing with him - even when it's incredibly inconvenient - because he is that special to me.  It's keeping him safe, even when I'm scared out of my mind. 

So, I guess, Liam taught me two important lessons that day.  Knowing what love is isn't quite as important as knowing what love feels like.  Love makes you feel happy, safe, welcome, cherished, special.  Love makes you feel important.

The second lesson, of course, was the reminder that everyone deserves to be heard.  What you see on the outside isn't always what's going on on the inside.  My son has lived much of his life not knowing what love is -- and, gosh darn it, if he learns nothing else from me, he WILL know what love is. 

And that, my friends, is the rest of the story.