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| "Compassion is contempt with a human face." John McCarthy |
Early on in my childhood, I was a free-spirited kid who loved being myself. I was extremely out going and exceptionally bright for my age. I did anything and everything my first grade teacher, Mrs. Langtom, wanted me to do. If she wanted me to add numbers, I did it... no problem. If she wanted me to follow directions... piece of cake. If she wanted me to color inside the lines...sure thing but if she wanted me to read words on a page, eh boy. Houston we have a problem.
Back then reading for me hard. I remember getting flustered easily when trying to learn how to read. It just didn't make much sense to me then. There were so many rules on how the words sounded that it all became too much for me. Until one day my teacher noticed that I was struggling. Instead of having me try to read out loud in front of the class, she asked me to come to her desk during S.S.R. aka. sustained silent reading.
I remember her explaining to me that reading takes practice. The way she explained how reading worked made me feel more as ease. Finally, for the first time I felt like someone understood what I was going through and that I wasn't alone. That night I read book after book with my mom. Keep in mind I was still struggling over almost every word, but I kept plugging away. I kept practicing and practicing until reading became effortless.
Now a days I love reading. I love the way words compliment each other and how when you read words they have a sort of essence about them. Maybe I appreciate reading more now because I know what it feels like not being able to read well. Maybe I appreciate it more because I have been through the struggles or maybe I appreciate it because I value the use of words more than the average person.
Whatever the reason may be, I learned how to read because of the compassion my first grade teacher shared for me. All I know is that without Mrs. Langtom's compassion, I would not have the ambition to want to exert my compassion.
Hi Erin, (I'm Jim's student aid, in case he hasn't "virtually" introduced me to your class; he gave me permission to read/comment on your guys' blogs
ReplyDeleteIt's cool to hear about the impact your teacher, Mrs. Langtom, had on you; it might seem so simple to some what she did for you - taking you aside during reading time to help you out...but the results or her compassion are huge: you not only learned to read (and therefore, write) very well, but you ENJOY it too. Sometimes I think this gift of doing something so that your students experience enjoyment in class is one of the greatest gifts a teacher can give.
Another interesting thread in your entry that I have also been noticing in some of your classmates is this idea that in order to truly experience compassion in our lives, we have to be struggling with something. Compassion is fairly meaningless when we're on the top of our game, but it's when we're down in the dumps when we need/experience it the most. Kind of a humbling thought, I think...