Today marks one year since the Boston Marathon bombings. Being a northern Bostonian myself, it's a day full of emotion and reflection. I remember it was just my second week of working in the corporate world when news broke in our cafeteria about the bombing. My best friend regularly attended the Marathon to cheer the runners on, but once I was reassured that she was safe all I could do was sit back and watch in horror: all the victims laying lifeless on the street, the first responders scrambling to their aid, but most endearingly I remember strangers helping strangers.
The reason I returned to teaching Pre-K to 2nd grade and have recently accepted a year-long fellowship to earn my Masters in Moderate Disabilities was not because of the lesson planning and not because of the hours and the summers off, it was because of the interaction I get to have everyday with, what I think, is the closest thing I'll ever get to angels on earth: the sweet faces of my (current) first graders who come in to school everyday and give me high fives and hugs as if they haven't seen me in years. They tell me about their weekends playing soccer, how much they love Justin Bieber and One Direction, and what they brought for lunch that day. In a world filled with social media and technology, it's refreshing to have face-to-face conversations with my students who have yet to make a Twitter profile.
Maybe it's the teacher in me, but days like today, anniversaries of horrific and unfathomable events, make me wonder if something could have been done in order to prevent such tragedy. When I scroll through the news pages online and read about one more school shooting or one more school stabbing, all I can think about is this: did someone simply ask how that individual was doing? When we ask people how they are, do we really mean it? Or has this simply become a fleeting form of a greeting so we can hurry back to whatever WE want to do?
I had a particular student last year who was high on the autism spectrum. He was an absolutely wonderful little boy who was very bright and very kind, but he had a temper in him like nothing I'd ever seen. One on occasion in particular, he came into school and ripped through the children's coats, threw bags on the ground, and wailed on the floor for all of morning circle time. After he nearly emptied a bin of blocks during free play, I took him to our quiet corner and asked (let's call him "John" for privacy purposes), "John, what is going on today? Why are you behaving like this?" He turned his head, looked me straight in the eye and said, "There weren't enough pop tarts for me to eat this morning for breakfast so I had to have cereal and I do NOT like cereal." There it was, all that havoc because of a pop tart. After we took a few deep breaths and recollected ourselves, I told him I was very sorry there weren't enough pop tarts for him but maybe his mom could buy more today so he'll have them for tomorrow. I asked him if he was ready to return to class and he obliged, walked over the free play rug and began playing with his classmates.
Sometimes, I think these tragedies could be lessened if we just asked each other how we were doing and truly meant it. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. More often than not, there is a reason that we do the things we do, whether it's entirely rational or not. We go by a certain mantra in the school where I work: "The kids who need the most love will ask for it in the most unloving ways." Can't this also be applied to adults in need? During the times in which I go through the most pain, stress, and heartache, a simple conversation seems to lift me from my problems. I think we get too wrapped up in the technological side of friendships, sending Facebook messages to catch up and the occasional email. We experience less and less human contact and we alienate ourselves from the heart-to-hearts that I believe are necessary to the human soul.
On this one year anniversary of the Boston Marathon bombings, I would ask this of all those who read it: the next time you speak to your friends, or maybe even a stranger, when you ask them how they are doing, mean it. You have no idea what a lending ear could do for someone who may be in pain and need. You have the power to change people's lives for the better, so let's start spreading the love.
xo Jessica
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