Casey was a
tough ranch kid. Little blond-haired kid
who played basketball for me for three years.
Intense, great defense, pretty good passer, fair shot. I noticed after each game, he’d grab two bags
of ice and hold them against his knees.
After each game and generally for the next day, he’d hobble like he was
an old man with a terrible case of arthritis.
It wasn’t until after
we had won the state tournament and after I had announced I was leaving to
coach at the university level that I found out that Casey was born with split
kneecaps. They never healed or grew
properly. I’m not a doctor. I don’t know much physiology if any. I don’t even know how it’s possible to have
split kneecaps. But that’s what he told
me. I asked him how he was able to walk,
much less play basketball. He shrugged,
smiled and said, “’Cause I like it.”
Melanie was a
quiet young lady. Honors student. Top five in her class. She seemed reserved, almost shy. Her eyes were bright and she had a ready and
willing smile. As a senior, she had to
write an essay for a scholarship about overcoming an obstacle. She wrote about not knowing if there would be a
meal to eat for herself or for her younger sister.
Her parents were out of work. There
were times that the only meal she and her sister ate was school breakfast and
lunch. Don’t know what she did over the
holidays or over the summer for food to eat.
The electricity was turned off until the bill was paid, sometimes for
long stretches. She wrote about running
home after school to take advantage of daylight to do her homework, often
finishing by candlelight or by flashlight.
She wrote about having to wear long sleeves and pants to bed and having
to put rubber bands on her cuffs and sleeves to keep cockroaches out of her
clothes.
I gave a
certificate of completion to one of our students yesterday in a simple ceremony
with friends, relatives and staff members.
Trey is a special needs student who has been with us for five years,
almost six. He is gregarious. Loves to laugh, loves to hug, and loves to
tease. We’ve become buddies these past
five years. He has difficulty in
speaking, but will draw a picture to communicate with us. He loves to see an A+ on his paper or a 100%
on his projects and will declare, “I can do it better!” And he does.
Always. Never quitting until he
succeeds in what he determines is his mission.
I’ve Learned
From Children. From Kids.
I’ve learned
from them since I’ve been in education . . . or at least, since I’ve taken the
time to notice.
Their
struggles. Their accomplishments. Their seeming failures, only to get up and
try again.
Their
innocence. Their joy in discovery. Their sense of wonder.
Casey taught me
never to give up. Never to settle for
anything other than one’s best. He
taught me to never complain. To smile
myself through it. As I write this, I
find myself smiling even now.
Melanie taught
me perseverance. Never to make
excuses. To rise above with grace and
dignity. Taught me that when the pennies
are few, there are those among us who have even less.
Trey taught me
that one doesn’t have to be brilliant to be bright. One doesn’t have to be gifted to be great. Taught me that there can be pleasure in almost
anything.
What We Learn
From Children is that often, there is beauty in simplicity. In wonder.
In perseverance. In sucking it up
and smiling through it. We can Learn
much From Children. And, we can teach
them too! Something to think about . . .
Live Life, and
Make A Difference!
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Thank you for your comment. I welcome your thought. Joe