As the school year closes, I sit and think about how quickly the year has passed. I think about the many ways our students have grown and how soon they will be leaving Faith Elementary. Our time spent with children is precious. Today they are children, in need of our time and attention. Soon they will be young adults, moving on to a life of independence.
I think of my own son and the many ways he has grown this school year. I think of his future and wonder what it is that I can give him that will foster his independence, yet provide safety and security when needed. That one thing is communication. I can teach my son to communicate his needs, dreams, successes and failures. I can teach him that it's OK to share his emotions, both positive and negative. I can teach him by taking time to listen. As a parent, I often forget that sometimes all my child wants is to be heard. Taking time to listen to him communicates that he is loved, important to me, and worthy of my time.
The following story was published in the Kansas City Star many years ago. It is a letter from a boy to his parents. I hope you find it as touching as I did...
Dear Folks:
Thank you for everything, but I am going to Chicago and try to start some kind of new life.
You asked me why I did those things and why I gave you so much trouble, and the answer is easy for me to give you, but I am wondering if you will understand.
Remember when I was about six or seven and I used to want you to just listen to me? I remember all the nice things you gave me for Christmas and my birthday and I was real happy with the things for about a week at the time I got the things, but the rest of the time during the year, I really didn't want presents. I just wanted all the time for you to listen to me like I was somebody who felt things too, because I remember even when I was young, I felt things. But you said you were busy.
Mom, you are a wonderful cook, and you had everything so clean and you were so tired so much from doing all those things that made you busy, but you know something, Mom? I would have liked crackers and peanut butter just as well-- if you had only sat down with me a little while during the day and said to me: "Tell me all about it so I can maybe help you understand."
And when Donna came I couldn't understand why everyone made so much fuss because I didn't think it was my fault that her hair is curly and her teeth so white, and she doesn't have to wear glasses with such thick lenses. Her grades were better, too, weren't they?
If Donna ever has children, I hope you will tell her to just pay some attention to the one that doesn't smile very much because that one will really be crying inside. And when she's about to bake six dozen cookies to make sure first that the kids don't want to tell her about a dream or a hope or something, because thoughts are important too to small kids even though they don't have so many words to use when they tell about what they have inside them.
I think that all the kids who are doing so many things that the grownups are tearing their hair out worrying about are really looking for somebody that will have time to listen a few minutes and who really and truly will treat them as they would a grownup who might be useful to them. You know--polite to them. If you folks had ever said to me: "Pardon me" when you interrupted me, I'd have dropped dead. If anybody asks you where I am, tell them I have gone looking for somebody with time because I've got a lot of things I want to talk about.
Love to all,
