Just Like You

Racism is judging somebody solely on their race, skin color, texture and color of hair, and shape and color of eye.  Judging them to be somehow inferior. Less than.  Unworthy of human kindness and mutual respect. Ultimately, racism comes down to judging people.

In this month we have talked about judging others based on age, ability, gender, and even location. We have talked about the ugly truth of the under belly of predjudice.  I would wager that most who read this will think, "Oh, I hate prejudice people!  How can people be so shallow and insensitive?"  I know because I find myself thinking the very same thing.

Yet, if I were to be honest with myself, I still judge people on a daily basis.  I judge students to be lazy and unwilling to help themselves.  I make assumptions about the slovenly dressed woman at the grocery store with the dirty kids running around, making a ruckus.  I judge grammar-impaired oil-changer at Jiffy Lube.  I sigh in relief that I am not any of "those people".  I am blessed to have a strong work ethic, backed by a college degree.  My kids are clean and (relatively) behaved in public.  And, thanks to my mother, I have excellent grammar skills when I speak.  Yet, I have judged all of these people to be some how inferior, less than, and unworthy of my kindness and mutual respect.  I am culpable of discrimination.

This week was a sobering reminder about how judging appearances is often folly.  I have a student, the General, a very bright "A" student.  He came to my class after leaving an advanced level class of the same course I teach.  He has always been very successful in my class.  Things began to change.  Although the General is passing, he has not done a single assignment outside of class and recently his grade has dropped nearly 3 letter grades.  Finally, I was ready to take care of business.

Last week, I asked to see an assignment, the third one this grading period; of course he did not have it.  I chastised him, demanding to see that assignment and the new assignment by next class.  Come the next class, again he had neither assignment.  This time moved from chastisement to reprimand. Also, the General had to have all three assignments by the next class or his parents would be notified. 

Of course, the next class he did not have a single assignment.  He just meekly apologized, looking at me with my frustration and indignation.  After class, like a Harpy on scent of her prey, I went on a mission to solve this problem.  I spoke to his counselor and his other teachers, all of us agreeing that he was not meeting his potential.  It was, in fact, time to call his parents.  The only working, local number I had ended up finding was his mother's cell.

I called, barely introducing myself, and launched into his litany of sins against education.  It was at this moment the purpose of the call changed.  Mom's tone was somber and I could hear her choking back the tears as she listened, but soon the floodgates collapsed.  Out came the pouring of tears and truth.  She was going through a divorce and the General was hurting.  There is more to the story, but these are private details.  However, as she lay bare her broken life before me, I realized how cruel I had been based upon an assumption.  He was not lazy.  He was not defying me.  He was struggling with the loss of his family.

I tease that I have a jaded heart, that I am an Ice Queen.  But I am not embarrassed to admit, while talking to this woman, I broke down crying.  I wanted to reach through that phone to embrace her to make her lover's heart stop breaking, to soothe the worried mother.  Because I know.  I am divorced woman with two boys.  Every time I look at them and think about the divorce, my heart shatters into a million pieces knowing that because two adults could not "get it together", they will live divided, and in some respects, broken lives. 

This past few weeks I had to re-learn a lesson that I thought I had lalready leared, over and over again, these past 16 years as a teacher:  "Never judge a book by its cover because the story inside just might be unexpected.  I asumed a highly capable student was slacking off, when in fact his heart  and his life were falling apart.

Today, as you go into this world and see the faces and the lives of those who surround you, try to look past race, age, gender, and ability.  More so, look pass the poor grammar, the fashion faux pas', and missing assignments.  Look into the hearts to see the genuine person.  What you might find is someone just like you, with a hurting heart, broken into a million little pieces.