People

The horrific images from Haiti since the devastating earthquake last week have affected people from around the globe. The cry for help went out, and people responded. Once again, some higher power (whether you believe in God, or destiny, or an unseen hand that guides the world's path), has made us stop, take note of what is right in front of us, and be thankful. It allows the goodness of humanity to push to the forefront of world news.

For me personally, the Haiti disaster has done more than make me grateful for the life that I have. It has once again sparked that desire in me to be on the front lines; not necessarily in Haiti, but anywhere that there is a need greater than here. My love of teaching, combined with my thirst for wanting to learn more and do more, have created a dream for me. I want to stand in a classroom, crowded with eager students who are happy just to have a pencil and a notebook. I don't want to be just their teacher; I want to be a student of their world. I want to learn how people in Africa, in Haiti, in India, are unique, but also see how they are very much the same as us. I know that this dream is on hold for the moment, but I also know that not having that dream would mean that it would never become reality.

How can I watch the news and not be affected by the mother clinging to her dead child, the homeless children wandering as though in a post-traumatic haze, the helplessness of a nation as basic needs are unreachable? Story after story of heartbreak permeate the world newscasts as we are overwhelmed with the loss of lives, and the destruction of families. This disaster has once again aligned the priorities in my life, in the order that they should be in. "My people" are at the top of my list, which is where they usually are, but sometimes that list needs to be highlighted, in bold capital letters. I heard a story last night on the Haiti telethon about one brave mother whose desperation to save her child went beyond the strength of human endurance. When the earthquake hit, her home collapsed, and although she was able to free herself from the debris, her child was buried. For 50 hours she listened to the cries and screams of her scared, hurt child. For 50 hours she dug with her bare hands as she listened to the cries weaken. She never gave up, even when help arrived, she continued. Her child was rescued; she had her person back in her life. Stories such as these make the people in my own life that much more loved and treasured by me. Even though there are days that my children seem to forget that I am actually the person in charge, there are also days that they hug me when they need a shoulder to cry on; there are days that we laugh at meal time until Lisa is choking milk out of her nose. Even though there are days that my parents seem to want to know every minuscule detail of my life until I want to go into hiding from them, there are also days that I am the one who needs the shoulder to cry on, and mom's is always available to me. Even though there are days that the distance between me and my "copain" seems like half a world away, the time that we are together is filled with laughing, teasing, the ordinary and mundane, mixed with that feeling of the perfect fit.

Hold your people close. Tell them that you love them. And remember, they are at the top of your priority list.

The Compassion of a Child

She quietly walked up to my desk, tilted her head down slightly, and held out a small plastic bag tied in a knot. In her shy, almost inaudible voice, she said "This is for the people in Haiti." She looked up at me with her innocent brown eyes, barely smiling, but filled with the compassion of a child. The bag boasted a toonie, some quarters, mixed with a few nickels, dimes, and pennies, all emptied from her piggy bank; a piggy bank that I knew would not be refilled anytime soon. I wanted to shout her story of selflessness from the rooftops, but at the same time, I knew that her act was not done for recognition, but solely for the purpose of giving.

With the unexpected, but also rewarding re-entry into full-time teaching, it has been so easy for me over the past two weeks, to get caught up in the pressure of what to teach, how to teach, planning, assessment. The feeling of being overwhelmed would hit me at some point each day. On Tuesday morning, with yet more directives being issued by the board, and more meetings debating rubrics and expectations, the feeling of "just let me teach" was screaming in my head. Then I walked back into my classroom, welcomed loudly by my exuberant brood, and was met with an overflowing shoebox of coins and bills from just one day of our Haiti fundraising drive. The excitement on my students' faces, and their motivation to do more, was well worth all of the politics of teaching. I was amazed with their compassion, as well as their sense of social responsibility.

For each piggy bank that was emptied, for each allowance that was donated, for each small act, this is my way of shouting my amazement and my gratitude from the rooftop.