Power Play
On a late spring day I walked out of my school hefting a folder filled with eighty essays that had to be graded. As I walked to the faculty parking lot, I was joined by Matilda, a senior in one of my English classes. Matilda was not fond of reading Huxley or Dickens or Shakespeare, but she was pleasant and quiet….one of those students who silently glides through the system on good behavior and a modicum of effort. We acknowledged each other’s presence as we entered the faculty lot. Students were not allowed to park their cars here, but parents often found it easier to pick up their children in the smaller faculty parking lot than try to negotiate the perpetual traffic jam that plagued the student parking lot.
I was almost to my car when a rust splotched pale blue Chevy pulled up. The driver, a woman in her late forties, looked up at me. Matilda walked over and, in typical adolescent awkwardness, tried to perform the formalities. “Mom, this is my teacher, my English teacher, Mr. Maltese…..this is my mom.”
I nodded, smiled, and, I believe, even bowed slightly. I watched as Matilda’s mom put out her cigarette in the car’s stuffed ashtray. “Mrs. Jones,” I acknowledged.
Matilda’s mom rolled down her window even more, and this small gesture demanded some comment, some interjection that would explode the bubble of awkward silence. I did not think…the words just rolled out like a Bronx serpent’s tongue, words prepackaged to fit almost any situation that required gentility. I simply blurted out what time and experience and good manners dictated.
“Mrs. Jones, Matilda is a very nice young lady, [true enough] and I am very happy that she is in my class.” [somewhat true—-I counted on her invisibility and docileness in class so I could deal with her classmates, some of whom wore ankle collars].
What happened next haunts me to this day.
Mrs. Jones put the Chevy in park, struggled to open her door, got out, stood up, and promptly dissolved in tears. Of course, I ran through the possible offences I may have committed and retraced my words. What had I said or done wrong?!
When Mrs. Jones finally regained control, she looked up at me, her eyes still swimming. Matilda stood silently next to her.
“Mr. Maltese, I have five children go through this school district, five kids, and this is the first time a teacher has said anything good about one of my kids.”
In all fairness to my colleagues, all my fellow teachers in the schools attended by Mrs. Jones’ children, the Jones’ family, save Matilda, was not unknown to the high school disciplinarian or the local police.
Still, Mrs. Jones, continued to cry and put her arm around Matilda, hugging her with pride. Matilda started to cry. Then I started to cry. I know not why except maybe it was the right thing to do at the time.
Here is the level 1 lesson I learned at that Matilda moment. Teachers have enormous power. I learned to use that power as a motivational tool in the classroom. To me, grades were ONLY motivators. I might give a very good essay a “B” to encourage the owner to expand his skills into other areas, and I might give an “A” to a decent essay to encourage the novice to keep writing. As a teacher, I never knew the difference between an essay graded a 94 and one graded a 95. I guess my evaluative skills were not honed. More importantly I learned how and when to dispense praise.
I am not referring to gratuitous praise. I am referencing the power to restore a person’s self-image by an encouraging word. I am also certain I abused that power—or, to state more accurately, not used that power when I should have. My only defense is that it takes a few years to become a teacher and to realize the tools at your disposal.
Here is the level 2 lesson I learned in that Matilda moment. As everyday human beings we all have the power to enrich other lives, just by simply recognizing the truth. Praising a cashier for efficiently packaging our groceries, to thanking our physician’s receptionist for scheduling an early appointment, to recognizing a mailman’s willingness to go the extra mile—-all are testimonies to the power we have to make someone’s day.
Here is the level 3 lesson I learned at that Matilda moment. Collectively we “mere” everyday beings have enormous power to change the world. I believe it was noted zoologist Jane Goodall who said something like “imagine if every single human being believed that he or she was important—that every action he or she took was significant….that the drop of water each person saved was important, that the rolled up gum wrapper that we did NOT throw out the car window was important, that the ounce of air we did NOT pollute was important…..what a different world it would be.”
The few power brokers who believe they are in charge only have the power we release to them. They take great pains to make us believe that we are powerless, that only they are the avenues to greatness and change. They are wrong. Search for and embrace the power that you already have, and flex those muscles accordingly. A kind word might dissolve a mother in tears, but it will also bring her joy, pride, and hope for her child’s future. Such is real power.