Monday, December 6, 2010

I Believe...

I had to create an "I Believe" statement and write a paper for my English class. I wrote about one student I taught in China whose story I continually think about.

“I Believe… that Love Can Mend a Broken Heart”

Her name is Emily. The first day I saw her I knew she looked different from the others. Instead of having a head of black hair, she had light brown hair. Instead of almond-shaped black eyes, hers were larger and hazel. The first day of school the eight-year-olds walked into the classroom and silently stood against the colored cubbies. I greeted each child with a smile and told them to sit down at the table. Six children looked back at me and five timidly began to walk to the table. One stayed at the cubby and put her hands to her eyes as tears began to flow. What just happened? These kids did not speak a word of English, and I wasn’t even sure what language Emily spoke. I walked over to her and gently placed her tiny shoulders into the palms of my hands. I touched her hands and she vigorously shook her head. I then lead her over to the table and sat her down next to me.

“Hello.”
“Hyelooo” said the class.
“My name is teacher Kim”
…Silence with confused faces.

Okay… where do I begin? I began to look at the name tags that all of the teachers had just given them. Tyler, Amy, Jenna, Jamie, Emily… I pointed to myself. “Kim”… then said each name as I pointed to the kids. Emily stopped crying and looked up at me with tears in her bloodshot eyes. My heart melted; If only I knew how to communicate with her.

Two weeks later and the children began to respond to me with short phrases. The competitiveness of these Chinese kids was impressive. They would shout vocabulary words louder than others and would grab at me for attention. They wanted praise. They demanded to be noticed.  All of them saw each other as a threat and would even push each other away so they could be my only focus. Well, all of them, except Emily. Emily would not compete, but would instead sit back and clench her fists in frustration.

A month later and the kids were progressing. They could speak sentences and would understand me if I spoke clearly and slowly enough. “Jenna, what day is today?” “Monday!” “Good girl.” “Tyler, what is your favorite animal?” “Tiger!” “Nice.” “Emily, what is your favorite color?” “No!” She pouted and shook her head. “Okay… Jamie, do you have a brother?” “Yes. Older.” But as I continued to ask questions around the table, my mind was set on Emily’s inability to speak and it was becoming clear that she did not like English class. Is it my fault? I smiled at her as she looked away and closed her eyes.

Another month passed and the kids continued to improve. Well everyone except Emily. Everything inside of me told me not to give up. But it was hard to make a fool of myself every time I asked her a question and she would scowl. I talked to the other teachers and asked what they did with Emily. They said they just let her sit there. They treat her like she isn’t there, because that is apparently what she wants. They said she probably isn’t even listening. Of course she is listening… she is, isn’t she?

A week passed and I decided to greet each with a hug. Emily always came in last and would drag her feet with apprehension.  I would give her an extra hug and send her to the table. At first, she was reluctant to hug me back. But with each passing day, she began to be receptive to me and would hold me tighter.

I did not give up on teaching Emily. She showed no progression, but I could not judge her, I did not know what was going on in her head. I didn’t know what was going on in her life.

“Emily, where are you from?” “Russia.” She responded! And she knows what I am saying! “Russia? Why are you in China?” She stared at the table. “Emily, why are you in China?” “I just come here” “With your mommy and daddy?” “No …I live with nana” she said. “Oh, are mommy and daddy in Russia?” “No. Mommy and daddy gone.” My heart stopped beating. It sunk to the bottom of my stomach and slid down to the floor. She could feel the pause in the conversation as something more; she looked up from the floor and looked into my eyes. Her eyes held fear and sadness.  “Oh Emily…” I immediately wrapped my arms around her. She sat stiff, but began to let go of herself and she fell into my arms and rested her head on my chest. “Teacher Kim, I… love… you.”

One month later Emily began to progress ahead of the class. She knew English very well and did not need to compete for my attention in class. She knew of my love for her because she could feel it. And because she could feel it, she did not need to try to impress me. I loved her no matter what. She even called me “mommy” once. The first time she did I just stared back at her.  I guess she knew all along that I believed in her and I treated her with the respect she deserved.

The last day in China was difficult to say goodbye to the children. Emily was the last student I saw. I ran up to her and took her into my arms. I hugged her and she gave me the lifeless hug that I had gotten when I had first met her. I looked at her and she would not look at me in the eyes. She walked away without saying anything. My heart dropped again like it did when I first found out about the story behind her. She had learned to trust me, and now I was walking out on her to go back home. Just another adult who had left her. I swept her in my arms and said, “Emily, I love you! I will always remember you. Don’t forget me.” She smiled and gave me a hug that I had needed and wanted all along. “Teacher Kim, I miss you. Goodbye.” My eyes began tearing as I walked away. I knew that love had given her the hope to move on. For such a young child, it was unfair for her to have to face so many changes and disappointments, but it taught her at a young age that life will be difficult and the only way to move on is with a heart full of love.

I believe that love can mend a broken heart. I believe that love has no boundaries. It speaks all languages. It can give you the courage to do what you are afraid to do alone. It is a support in troubled times. Love knows more than the human mind can comprehend. I believe that love exists when you open your eyes and shut out any doubts. Love helped me come to know Emily because I let it teach me what I couldn’t understand at first, but was anxious to know all along, that growth and progression can only take place when love and trust are first established. 

2 comments:

  1. Kim,
    I just read this and it was such a good story! What a precious memory you have from China. You are such a good writer and should write on here more about your new adventures in NYC!

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  2. why have i NEVER read this?!??!! its amazing! you are amazing and i love and miss that little girl. such a good writer kimbo! please blog more!!

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