my lazari

The parable of Lazarus (from Paul's letters to Timothy): A poor man lay dying outside a rich man's gate. The rich man stepped over him every morning on his way to work, but otherwise, did nothing to make his life better or worse. Both the rich man and the poor man eventually died, and the rich man went to hell while Lazarus, the poor man, was taken to heaven. One day the rich man looked up from his eternal roast and saw Lazarus chillin' with Abraham and begged for some respite. He was denied, and he proceeded to whine about how unfair it was that he ended up in hell when he never did anything to the poor man. Which of course was the point of the whole parable: You did nothing, and that was your sin.

The references to hell and all the ways that nothing-doers can get there were a little scary (personally I like a little milk with my fire-and-brimstone) but I focused on application instead and thought of this kid I yelled at a couple of days ago. Nice kid. Quiet, courteous, a little slow-moving sometimes but just a good kid in general. Last Wednesday I couldn't get him to pay attention. For anything. Every time I looked up, he was reading a book in his desk. I reminded him gently, I reminded him sternly, each about three times. I tried engaging him in the class discussion so he wouldn't tune out. Finally I took the book away (this is always the very last resort because books are sacred property). As a result of his constant inattention, his math packet, due at the end of the period, was in so many pieces in, on and around his desk that there was no way he was going to make it to PE on time. I blew up at him. He slowly started putting his things together, and about five minutes later I noticed that he was crying silently.

It's not often that I feel terrible about scolding a student. I have felt mildly regretful and have acknowledged some mistakes, but most of the time my judgment is pretty good. I know who to raise my voice to and who needs a gentler touch. Every teacher has made a kid (or kids or many, many kids) cry at some point (or points or many, many points) - but this time felt especially bad. It could be argued that he was being disrespectful but because I know him, I know that was not his intent. What do I want most for my kids? (Well, after general safety and enough to eat at home.) Unforgettable reading experiences. And there he was, having a reading experience so good that he couldn't stop. And what did I do? Scared the shit out of him and ruined the experience.

No, he shouldn't have been reading just then. But I shouldn't have yelled at him. (In case anyone needs context, I didn't yell a sentence, I yelled a paragraph.) What does this have to do with Lazarus, you say ... especially since I didn't exactly step over my kid on my way to work but instead did some kicking? I guess my parallel is a little skewed but the basic point is, when I needed to let him in, I didn't. If I could do it over I would take him on the side and tell him privately that I am so excited he found something that good to read, and that I'd like to talk about the book with him when he had time, but that for now, he'd have to put it away and attend to the subject at hand. I would have gotten better results, and no tears - and I would have nourished that particular relationship instead of stunting it.

I remember getting my math book repeatedly thrown in a metal garbage can when I was in second grade because I couldn't understand how to divide. I sure could have used a teacher who would at some point have re-evaluated that afternoon.