A boy sits in the front row of his fourth grade class, light brown buzzed hair, and a darkened circle under one of his light grey eyes. He turns around every once in a while to use the English phrase he knows all too well: “What’s your name?”, and no matter how many times I tell him my name is Julie, he persists in practicing his English throughout the day – at recess, at lunch….in the middle of a math lesson. The teachers refer to him as one of the ‘difficult’ students – one of those “them” that is always making a fuss, speaking out in class and instigating quarrels with those around them. But I wonder, and hope that they see what I see, from my seat in the back of the classroom, as I observe, trying to understand what’s taking place, without the ability to comprehend the words being said. I hear him speaking out in class – primarily when he turns around to ask me, across the classroom, what my name is. I see him quarrelling with other students, and getting distracted from doing his assignments. But I also see him doing his work and seeking assistance when he doesn’t understand. I see that he rarely starts the quarrels with other students, but that his unruly actions appear to be a means of defending himself, and I see his kind heart when the class begins heading to a new destination (be it lunch, or PE, or recess, etc.) and he comes to my side and tells me in Hungarian, and motions with his hands, to make sure I know we’re leaving, and that I should come.
It can be so easy to categorize people, situations, places, etc., into the molds we already have in our minds. “Good student”, “bad student”, “trouble maker”, etc… But in doing so, parts of the picture are missed. I have no idea what this young boy’s family situation is like. The teachers may not always see the other students instigating trouble with this boy. And the world population can little understand the history, the culture, and the life of the gypsy population, based solely on what their peers and the media have to say. When everyone seems to point out the things that are bad or wrong about the people, the places, the world around you, I hope you will remember to celebrate the joys, as small as they may seem to be at the time.
At the end of class on Wednesday, the young boy walked to the back of the classroom where I sit, and placed a paper crane that he’d made earlier that week, in my hands. Though it took five minutes for me to understand what he was saying, he wanted me to have the crane, and take it home with me. I see that crane, now perched on my bookshelf, everyday as I head to work, and I am humbly reminded of the goodness that can be found in each and every one of us – however difficult it may be to unearth.
