Silent Lesson, Watchful Eyes

It was the second day of this experience I began where I learn & teach. I figure that whenever someone is not teaching something, they are learning; they just need to know where to look. Perhaps they may need to just take themselves out of the equation and just watch everything else. Today was one of those learn by watching days.

The carnival was in town in a large lot owned by a church. I knew many of the volunteers who were to be working there. I, myself, had even signed up to help out for a few days. Despite the fact that she would be there on Thursday, my sister had asked me to take her today. I agreed and brought along a friend and two of my little  cousins.

When everyone was finally all picked up and packed into the car, we started the drive to the church. I glanced in the rear view mirror for a moment at my cousins. The older one, six, was staring out the window with a dreamy look on her face. Her twinkling blue eyes followed the passing trees and signs vaguely while her lips pressed together lightly in a slight smile that gave off an impression that she wanted to say something, but didn't. My eyes flicked back to the road and again to the mirror. The younger one, four, had a wandering gaze, but there was pure excitement on her face. Her long blond hair was tied in pigtails on the side of her face and made her look even younger, as if her tiny body didn't already make this child look half her age. It was nice seeing honest expressions. That also included the exaggerated  pout on my little sister's face and the slight smile on my normally apathetic friend's face. I drove on.

Pulling into the parking lot, seeing the bright lights of the carnival filled me with wonder. The smell of funnel cakes, cotton candy, popcorn and sausages filled the air as I stepped out of the car. The carnival music blasting and people barking offers for side show games drowned out the voice of the little one who tugged on my sleeve. As I bent my ear low to her level, a soft breeze went through my hair and I was glad I brought my ASA sweatshirt. I then caught on that I didn't need to hear what she was saying; I knew what she wanted when she started tugging on her sister's jacket. She hopped as a shiver went through her petite frame. Shrugging off the hoodie and placing it over her head, the sweater was much too long in the arms and altogether went down to the knees. Smiling, I placed her on my hip. I thought of the last quote I analyzed in an  essay I had been required to write for my AP English Composition class.

Blame nobody. Expect nothing. Do something.

These words had struck me hard when I realized how much that described my life motto. Finding words to sum up motivation for me, I think I I became more aware of my actions and thoughts since then. That quote was the response from a man who had been asked how to sum up what our attitude should be about life. 

I guess it may seem that this quote is unrelated to whatever incident I am about to write about. There's a point to it all; I promise. It's about something I didn't expect to see, to feel. As I was walking around with one child my hip and the other holding my hand, my sister and friend walked beside us. We went through the games,  rides, face painting station and cotton candy bags. What I noticed as I walked around was the flicker of eyes all around. Maybe some were the passing glances and others just eying with curiosity the new faces, but I know I definitely saw some disapproving frowns here and there. It wasn't until I was walking back to the car when the explanation hit me in the head. I was walking with the young one still on my hip since the others wanted to go on one last ride. As I neared the lot, I adjusted the bag on my arm and this doll of a girl began to slip. I paused by a car and set everything down for a moment just as two security personnel strolled by. They stopped commenting on how beautiful the little girl was with her bright blue eyes, blond hair and something about the little container she held with a prize fish. I continued adjusting and reloading the bags on the shoulders. Just as I picked my cousin back on my hip, one of the men asked if it was my daughter. I snorted at how absurd it was and gave a short explanation. Saying something to the like of "you never know", I walked off with a pasted smile on. Was that the reason for the looks of judgement? I wasn't a teenage mother and this certainly wasn't my child. Is this generation that bad that people jump to "teenage mother" before "babysitter"? 

You learn something knew everyday. If not learn, maybe realize or discover. The looks of judgement from people? Or even just people making an assumption before they find out the truth? There are so many assumptions that are grown from just one. My financial status. My marital/relationship status. My social status. My intelligence level. My commonsense. The discover part? This is how my student must feel. Riding in a wheelchair all his life, his body became pudgy and his legs thin. Almost constantly silent, the muscles in his face are tensed a bit differently than us, who are always ready to comment on anything and everything. Whether he is or not, but how many people assume? That he's weak? That's he's not there mentally? That he doesn't understand anything much less the realities of life. How many people assume that he has nothing to say just because he cannot speak? I know this boy tries so hard at the tasks given to him whether it be his homework or the physically exhausting physical therapy exercises he has to do. He's ALL there mentally and it makes me angry when people talk to him like he's two. He's a fifteen year old boy and he knows what you mean by your words when you speak to him. If anything, silence lets him notice more about everything than other boys his age. I got a haircut one day and he noticed, complimenting me on it. People might doubt me and say that I can't possibly know this, but I came to know that if you spend enough time with someone or something, you start to understand it in ways that go beyond the obvious. He understood when one of his dogs died. He knows when you're lying about the ice cream truck being on the next block and not down the street. He understands that people clap when they like a performance and he can even keep a beat. A wonderful memory working in him, we even have a secret handshake that he remembers better than I do. Sometime I even wonder if I could handle that pressure, judgement and even ostracism. How many things has he been left out of because of what it seems that he cannot do? How many games and how many jokes? How many parties and how many groups?

Blame  nobody.

He never complains. Not verbally, not with physical motions, not in any way does he ever blame anyone for what he can't do and what's wrong with him. People become bitter over the stupidest things and hold grudges until their deathbeds, but what's done is done. You can't change the past, so you just have to look how to make the best out of the future.

Expect nothing.

This boy doesn't sit around waiting for pity, help or any charity. He knows how to go from an electrical scooter chair to a seat, all supporting himself the entire time with his arms. I know it's tiring because I've tried it before. I also know there's a multitude of people out there, some friendly and some not. He doesn't wait for one of the friendly people to go past a simple smile and prove their good by action. He doesn't wait for a judgmental person to change their mind or maybe feel bad and help. He does what he needs to do and if someone helps him, that's great. If not, life goes on and it goes back to blame nobody.

Do something.

Even if people blame nobody and expect nothing, most would find this at the limit of patience already. But to go beyond all that and in addition, do something?? Yes, he does that too. I remember hearing about one time at a conservative church he was visiting, there was a lady who performed a song for the congregation. The people rarely clapped at the end of such a performance, so no one found it unusual when she ended and paused at the silence. Suddenly you hear the sound of swift uneven clapping from a single pair of hands; my student was showing his support and appreciation. Unsure of how to take this, the rest of the congregation joined in and the lady's face light up like Christmas morning. I could go on and on with the things he does for others. He'll compliment people because he knows encouragement and positivity is important to life. The way he cares for the puppies he owns is heartwarming as well. Trying hard to be gentle, he'll stroke them and then hand them to someone who looks like they need cheering up. 

This boy has such an innocent spirit and a kind heart. But through my silent lesson, I learned about watchful eyes: his.

Practice: Day One

I brought an old Ukrainian alphabet and reading book that my mother once taught me from. It's the same one that she learned from long ago. It's barely holding together and it has pen and highlighter scribbles sporadically on the pages. Some pages are extremely loose and while others are no longer attached, they are placed with care in the spot where they belong. I treasure this book, but I bring it to school to begin my practices.

Lunchtime comes and I finish my lunch quickly so I can begin my experiment. The girl who volunteered to practice with me is still eating. Although she says she's going to do it, I can tell her confidence in herself was wavering as she eyed the book lying in the center of the circular table where all our school bags lay. I say something to her about 'it being all right to quit now before she started' and she took me up on my offer right away.

I smiled as I went to the next table, but inside I was bummed. Where was I supposed to find someone else? I had gotten excited today and this was a little more disappointing than I thought it should be. It's like deciding to start a certain meat diet and park running plan and finding out that the meat has gone bad or that it's going to thunderstorm all week; yes, you can start later on, but the initial excitement that also serves as startup motivation dies down right there. But luckily for me, my happy go lucky cousin came by to see what I was doing and our Russian friend following right behind her. I turned to her and just told her to start reading. At first she protested good heartedly, but began as I encouraged her by opening to a page. She began to read.

Slowly sounding out each syllable, she read the lines slowly and carefully. I corrected her gently to the Ukrainian pronunciation of words since she was stuck with the Russian language in her head. Shaking her head with a doubtful smile on her face, I nudged her and she continued. More kids came over to our new table and poked around, watching. This gave her the distraction she wanted and she hopped away, calling about needing to see someone quickly. Our Russian friend peered over the book. Asking me to teach him instead how to read, I quickly obliged. With more enthusiasm than my cousin, he gleefully sounded out each part. Not minding my corrections, he learned swiftly and repeated few mistakes.

After getting past a few pages, the lunch bell rang and everyone began to push their way towards the hallways leading to the classrooms. I praised his work and he beamed. We parted ways and I stopped for a second to think as I secured the book inside my school bag. Enthusiasm and motivation are needed in larger quantities than patience. I need to provide a goal for my summer student; something to look forward to would make it easier to figure out how to plan each day. Encouragement and understanding go a long way too. I know that in my worst subject, mathematics, I had this wonderful teacher who had nothing but encouragement and support. If we didn't know the answer, he'd help us figure out how to get the answer to that type of problem not the answer itself. If we made a really thoughtless mistake, he never ridiculed us or punished us, but instead helped us along. I think I learned more in that Calculus class than I have ever learned in any easier math class. There were a handful of teachers who inspired me to copy their ways and he was definitely one of them.

Practice Day One: a success despite the change in students.

An Amateur, An Expert

I always considered myself a good writer, but a horrible novelist. I could spin up an essay, short story or journal in minutes (which came in handy at school). This gave me the idea to write a book. However, after a few attempts at writing a book, I decided to write about my life instead. I then realized that people have enough stress, drama and adventures in their own lives, so they wouldn't have much incentive to read mine. I let the idea of writing fall away and die down in my daily rituals.

A few weeks after I gave up even blogging, something happened that inspired me to write about again. After spending countless days with the Special Education kids at school, visiting them and such, I was approached with the opportunity to be a speech therapist to one child. I knew who he was and I knew what the situation was. I was supposed to teach him to speak? He could barely utter one word syllables right and if you didn't know him, half the time you wouldn't understand the words even if they did come with motions. But it was a summer job and he was an extremely pleasant child. I agreed and I am supposed to start the day after I graduate high school, June 15th.

I don't know if this blog will amount to anything, but I want to document this experience. I think it'll help me too a lot since I want to attend college to become a teacher. You can't go wrong with more experience, especially if you have to be more understanding and do things extra well because of the situation. So, as the days pass and graduation gets closer, I try my hand at teaching people another language. I figure this is the closest practice I can get to trying to teach the boy how to speak.

Although I am an amateur at writing, I am an expert at encouragement. While I am a beginner at documenting, I am a professional when it comes to patience and despite the fact that I am a novice at teaching a boy how to speak, I am empathetic when it comes to wanting understanding.