It’s four days out from the very lovely weekend evening I spent with my nephew, and I’m still contemplating the lesson I learned about the importance of offering a listening ear without judgment. I remember when I was just a year younger than my nephew is now and struggling with the feeling that I was speaking but not being heard, and hence, not being seen. So, I began hiding myself. That same year my 10th grade English teacher, Mrs. B, gave me an invaluable gift, likely unbeknownst to her, in the form of an assignment to write a poem about anything that mattered deeply to us. It could be about family, friends, school, or it could be an expression of how we feel about our lives or the world. It simply had to follow some type of poetic form that I can’t fully recall and was restricted to 20 lines or less.
This is what my 15-year old self wrote:
The Eyes
Able to see all the wrong in the world;
unable to see anything right.
Only looking at the darkness in life;
never discerning the light.
Constantly searching for others’ faults;
never the things they do best.
Able to see all of the sorrows in life;
unable to perceive anything else.
Only able to see a reflection
of
the most critical judge of others.
The eyes, so critical of everyone else,
they forget to examine the owner.
Not exactly Keats or Shakespeare, but I received an A+. Mrs. B wrote that my poem revealed “profound insight and wisdom” from one “so young.” She also suggested I pursue writing as an opportunity to continue expressing my thoughts and ideas and to potentially help others.
Through a simple class assignment, Mrs. B had not only given me the gift of being heard and understood, but also opened a door for me to communicate in a way that felt safe. And in that moment—albeit unknown to either of us—the path of my future was set.
No comments:
Post a Comment