SCHOOL DAZE

Sarah got a call from her neighbor. "My child's school just called. He's not feeling well. I'm too far away. Would you mind picking him up and keeping him at your house until I can get across town?" 

Sarah was happy to oblige her neighbor, besides, the little boy was very well-mannered and respectful. 

She arrived at the school and he was waiting in the office. The office manager was very pleasant, and said she'd made sure he had everything he needed to go home. Sarah was an empty nester, but had enough experience having to go back to pick up things her own children had forgotten at school. She thought she'd better go down the list. "Do you have your homework? Backpack? Notebook? Any toys? Coat? Sweater? Hat? Did you have Band class today? Where's your instrument?" The child exclaimed, "Oops! I forgot my flute!" Before she could say a word, he had hurried out of the office headed to his classroom. 

She was about 2 feet behind him as they walked down the corridor. As he approached his classroom, his classmates were lined up to go outside. They all greeted him. A few even told him, "I hope you feel better!" A rather disheveled woman was standing in the doorway with her back to Sarah and the child. The woman seemed annoyed that the children were talking and began pointing toward the open door that led to the playground. She looked down and saw the child as he entered the room, glared, and snapped, "What are YOU doing back in here!?" The child, without stopping replied, "I left my flute". He didn't seem to be deterred or offended by the woman's demeanor. Sarah remembered what Joyce Meyer said: "Children have an ability to rebound. I mean, they get over things quickly, but we seem to get stuck." Sarah was momentarily dazed. She startled the woman as she stepped from behind and faced her. She was offended, and didn't like the tone the woman used with the child at all. Not seeing any other adults around, she asked "Are you his teacher?" The woman managed to stutter a "Yes". Sarah extended her hand, introduced herself as the child's neighbor, and said she would be taking him home. The teacher seemed angry and flustered at first, but was unsuccessfully trying to adjust her face to a more pleasant expression. It was too late. The damage had already been done. Sarah wasn't smiling, either. She hated judging the teacher, but she wondered when teachers stopped bothering to dress professionally. The teacher looked as if she'd just rolled out of bed, raked leaves, and jogged to work. 

The child, flute in hand, joined Sarah and they headed back down the corridor. Sarah was concerned. She was there to pick up a sick child, and the teacher's demeanor was unsympathetic and abrasive. She wondered if she was just having a bad day, or if what she witnessed was a pattern of behavior. Sarah sensed that the teacher didn't like the child. Sarah wondered if she should share her thoughts with her neighbor--or even the principal. She didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing. Maybe her startling the teacher was a wake up call for her to mind how she spoke not only to her little neighbor but to all of the children. 

As they headed back down the corridor, Sarah felt compelled to ask him, "Is your teacher a nice lady?" "Sometimes", the child replied. Once they got outside, Sarah noted that the child didn't seem the least bit ill.

Sarah was concerned that such a good student was so anxious to leave school. When they got to her house, she served him lunch. He did his homework with such enthusiasm that she was amazed. When she asked him how he felt, he said that whatever had been served in the cafeteria had nauseated him. "It just smelled really bad and all of a sudden my stomach was hurting. I told my teacher and she sent me to the principal's office. That's when I called my mom--and then you came. Can I have some more french fries?"

He didn't seem to want to talk about school anymore. She decided she'd tell her neighbor about the encounter with the teacher. Maybe it was nothing, but she couldn't get the tone of the teacher's voice out of her head. She thought about her own teachers, and her children's teachers. For the most part they'd been endearing, kind, and professional, but never hostile. 

"When a child likes school as much as he does, it's a shame if he's being discouraged from wanting to be there", she thought."Why would anyone, let alone a teacher, want to break the spirit of a child?"