A 40 minutes conversation with a parent over the phone, totally disregarding the depletion of my daytime minutes while the parent cared little about the acruence of the long-distance charge she was receiving, just parent and teacher discussing child progress or lack thereof.
I had made plenty of parent calls before, conducted countless conferences, and isolated God-given students from their hellacious behaviors. So why does this particular incident stand out so much... Why did this one conversation result in a parent crying and confessing all o f her life struggles to a young and seemingly inexperienced teacher; why was I reminded a lot of my own life experiences and the experiences of many people who have surrounded me at one point in time? Why was it this one call that I believe will stay with me for the rest of my life?
Desperation... This is the one word answer that I have settled on.
When I contacted this parent, it was out of desperation. I wanted to intervene before this student made detrimental mistakes that would alter his life's path for the rest of his life. I wanted to inform this parent, whom I had met on several occasions and instantly felt a connection with, that her son was not making progress nor effort in many of his classes... In other words, he was failing. I wanted to ensure that his mother knew what was happening and what was going to happen before it was too late. This was my desperation, to intervene, to go beyond being a teacher and show that I was a caring human being, to illustrate my dedication and concern for my students both in and outside of school hours, and to make active choices to ensure that I was promoting the overall, life-long success of my students.
And from my desperation, the parent revealed her own desperation and vulnerabilities. The conversation started about a student's behavior and ended with the student's life, the mother's current situations, and the emotional, mental, and physical fatigue the mother was enduring in order to be a provider, nurturer, and example for her children. Although none of the experiences she said were bad, such as drugs, abuse, etc., they were heartfelt. In her sincerest moment of desperation to provide for her children, to love them, and to ensure that they succeed in life ( beat the odds that subconsciously surface against young Black and Latino children due to ideologies, misconceptions, and American structures), she was feeling beaten. She felt torn, tattered, and unsuccessful herself. But as the mother, father, care-taker, provider, counselor, doctor, etc. for her children, who would ensure that she was okay? Who would listen to her cry or help her make sense out of the many complexities of life we face? Who would give her that extra push when she felt like nothing was going right or there was no will left in her spirit? For a long time, there was no one for her to lean on... To confide in.. To listen, even if he/she could provide an answer, to just listen. And for once, in a long time, I felt like my current position in life and time had meaning.
I'm not saying that I changed this woman's life. I'm not even arguing that I made a difference. But I am saying that I listened. I opened a space of vulnerability for both of us, one as novice teacher and the other as caring yet frustrated, fatigued yet enduring parent... A space were honesty and truth were welcomed, criticism was removed, and communication was accepted. Through my desperation, she realized and admitted her own. And through her confessions and tears I too gained insight. I may not be as successful as I'd like to be. I am most definitely not the world's greatest teacher and I may never be. I may leave work feeling defeated at times. I may feel emotionally torn and physically fatigued from the requirements and duties of my job. But I am here for a purpose. I am here for a reason. I am affecting the lives of my students in more ways than one. I am serving a purpose, and even if I can't put it in words, poetically express the emotions, or convey the truth that lies underneath, I am living it.
Sometimes desperation is needed in order to see the greatness in self. Sometimes desperation is needed to outline one's own successes instead of his/her shortcomings. Sometimes desperation is needed to truly reflect and connect... To make meaning out of the seemingly meaningless; to find purpose out of struggles; and to gain strength needed to endure.
It was desperation that once served as a reminder of my defeat; however, now, it is desperation that gives me insight; desperation that reminds me of my humility; and desperation that ultimately lead to my survival.
Lesson of the Day: Everything in life, both good and bad, has a meaning. All things are teachers and lessons often come unannounced and unexpected. Today, desperation was my teacher.
