Littermates. Week five.
Since the second week of teacher training, we have been divided up in groups, alphabetically. I’ve never been so glad to be at the end of the alphabet. We are a bunch of gentle folk, always eager to lend a helping hand. We come from different walks of life, carrying scars that make you weep. In my group, we have battled cancer, addiction, divorce, shame, guilt, hopelessness, loneliness, disgust and despair. My kind of people. The closeness and euphoria described of these groups have been compared to that of a litter of puppies.
Teri Almquist, the PC whisperer, comes to tame the wild horses that run away with our self confidence in a week when we are bone tired, wrung out and strung out on electrolytes and fear.
She prescribes from a source of love. Every word rings with truth that reverberates in my soul. Like a religious zealot, I weep with every word she speaks because she speaks the truth from a place of love. I needed this. To be told that I can be gentle to myself and it’s okay. To be told that we don’t need to strive towards perfection and it’s okay. To be told that we have the rest of our lives to study that dialogue. And it’s okay.
Just as I have relied on the support of my littermates, I know that I can turn to this teacher to nourish my soul. How refreshing to know that it’s not necessary to stay up to the wee hours of the morning, memorizing every ‘and’ and ‘the’ and that the syntax of the sentence does not need to be conquered but our fears and shame? What kind of a teacher do we want to be, one that gives perfect dialogue, or one that sees students with compassion?
As I have provided my littermates with like compassion, so will I go out into the world more determined to do the same.
