Unbreakeable

Sometime last term each of my children had some not so positive encounters with a teacher at school.

This past year, there has been a bit of a revolving door situation with math teachers at Nathan's school. And the latest math teacher (who was supposedly the head of department) seemed to be picking things up several steps back from where the previous teacher last left off. Unfortunately instead of reflecting on why her students seem bored and disengaged, this teacher interpreted certain students' disengagement (including Nathan's) as having an attitude problem. For now Nathan has requested that I not intervene. He reminded me that we don't have to 'like' every teacher (or person) that we encounter. Some people are just destined to be thorns. He will manage.

Grace had a new Indonesian teacher at school this year. One word to describe her would be 'finicky'. And that's putting it nicely. At the end of the semester, we were puzzled that Grace had a received a 'B' grade after consistently scoring a 'A' in the subject in all her school years up to this point. I requested a meeting to understand what might have changed. Her answer: It should be common knowledge that to score an 'A', students are expected to be performing two years ahead of the current year's syllabus. That really did not sit right with me and I told her so. She essentially just shrugged me off. I eventually escalated the matter to look further into this. For now the ball is in her court to share the grading and assessment 'rubric' to illustrate these expectations. It's been almost ten weeks since and I have not heard anything. For now, Grace is satisfied knowing that it had nothing to do with her falling behind her usual pace is happy to leave things where they are.

These are the situations where part of me wants to just storm in and stand up for what's right for my children. Mama bear style.

But I remind myself... and they remind me too... that they want and need to fight their own battles and walk their own paths. Figure things out on their own. Even as I watch them tripping or stumbling around as they find their way, I stood back.

Just like when they were little babies standing up and learning to walk.

And I knew the stumbles and bumps were all part of the learning.

This time, it's somehow so much more painful to stand back and let them stumble, sometimes even fall. And afterwards pick themselves up on their own.

Then I see them.

Standing tall.

Bruised, but unbroken.

When they were little, wrong and right was black and white.
It was easy to point out the boundaries where lines had been crossed,
To speak out against injustices,
And make the world right.
Now the lines are invisible.
Felt but not seen.
Cold wars
Cliques
Oppressive tactics
Eroded trust
Hollow hearts.
I see the guides who have lost their map,
Lamps dimmed in their own light,
Dimming the light of others.
But this is not my journey,
Not my battle,
It is not my story.
So I listen.
I understand.
And feel.
Powerless.
The pain feels almost unbearable.
But tell myself to remember,
They are unbreakable.