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Let His Gift Flow
"Not everyone in the school understood the passion that fueled Octavious."
This article was written by our associate and is
intended to remind us all that, as educators,
our directive to promote truth and understanding never changes.
Happy graduation: This year, a group of my
kindergarten children will be graduating from high school. As the teacher
who escorted them into this, now ending season of academic achievement, I
am both proud and hopeful. Proud of all the boys and girls who made it to
the finish line, and hopeful that each will continue on a journey of
self-discovery. Especially Octavious.
Twelve years ago: Octavious was big for his
five years, with bright eyes and a smile that lit up the room. His name
said it all. Like an octave, he was a totally self-contained musical
interval. We all loved being in
his presence. He was confident, capable, and paternal. Our classroom was
his flock, and he pastored with compassion and grace. If there were a
dispute between students, he would skillfully mediate until it was
resolved. Broken hearts were mended and sick children comforted by this
classroom minister. Octavious
mother and I were careful to nurture this remarkable childs gift while
guiding him to remain within the boundaries of appropriate behavior. But
we both knew that at times, when he deviated beyond the limits of
conventional behavior, his intent was pure. We simply explained the
consequences that such an impulse had on the rest of the class, and he
would comply. But not everyone in the school understood the passion that
fueled Octavious. Other teachers
would ask me how I could tolerate his disruptive behavior. But he was not
disruptive. He was simply driven by his need to shepherd. And it was our
job, as educators, to direct his passion toward appropriate channels,
while nurturing the gift.
Ten years ago: After the school year ended, I
moved away and did not hear from Octavious for several years. Then one day
a letter came. The childlike writing as big and emphatic as its author
told a sad tale. Octavious was in the principals office again. To keep
him occupied, the principal had told him to write me a letter. As I read
between the lines, I could see that Octavious spent a lot of time in this
special seat of correction. I took the opportunity to write him back. I
told him that he was special. I told him that he was a leader and that it
was important for leaders to follow the school rules. What I did not tell
him was that his teacher needed to focus less on absolute obedience and
more on nurturing his gift. Yes, he was impulsive. But he was also bright,
compassionate, and capable. "Work to his strengths,"
I wanted to say. "Let him use that pastoral anointing to begin a
class-mentoring program. Let him teach mediating skills. Let
his gift flow!"
To
Octavious, my wonderful musical interval ...
May all of your dreams be realized.
________________________
As educators, may we never feel the sting of this quote
from Seventeen Magazine (circa 1965):
"And turning back upon the sterile
desert, I saw a sprouted seed, crushed in my footstep."
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