On January 1, 2007 I sat at home feeling totally uninspired wondering what I would do this year to make the world a better place. I thought about spreading kindness but that it had to be for no reward. No one could know it was me, there could be no pats on the back, no recognition…. it had to somehow be a pure and selfless act. As my eyes wondered to one of my favorite rocks I got it! Kindness Rocks! For some reason I have always loved rocks, I paint rocks, I decorate rocks, I put them in my garden, I have them in my house, I drag them from beaches, the side of roads, fields, shelves at stores, where ever. I laugh because often my sister and I exchange rocks as presents.
The connection hit me like a "rock"................of course.............literally kindness rocks it is one of the most awesome things in the world to be kind or to receive kindness from another. My 2007 project was born, for one year I would write kindness on rocks, leave them anonymously around the community and see what would happen. I swore myself and my son to secrecy and began the work of writing kindness on beautiful polished rocks that I believed someone might pick up and treasure.
Very quietly I began leaving the rocks at phone booths, by pop machines, on counters, on benches. Anywhere that I felt it would be obvious it was meant to be taken. Often I would leave them on my way in somewhere and they would already be gone by the time I left. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to know that my kindness rocks just might brighten someone’s day or inspire someone to kindness.
Six weeks later at work, happy in my secret pursuit I began working with a team of youth to develop a video to promote our Pay it forward Comox Valley project. I explained our vision of the project, the concept of pay it forward spreading kindness through the sharing of stories and the ripple effect that would be felt throughout the community.
One week later I sat at my desk in shock as the youth showed me their story board of the video concept. It started with a circle of people passing a small rock with kindness written on it…….every hair on the back of my neck stood up as they explained how the rock would get bigger and bigger until it took everyone in the circle to take it to the waters edge and drop the rock in the water creating a ripple that would go on and on. The final shot would be that of the rock with the word kindness in bright white shining from under the water and the ripples would be seen moving away from the rock.
After picking myself up off of the floor………(not literally), I realized that I could no longer keep my secret, I could no longer keep the joy of spreading my kindness rocks to myself, it is so much bigger than me, I had wanted a totally selfless act but it only become selfless when I shared my kindness rather than when I kept it a secret.
Bev Moquin
Executive Director
CVCISS/ValleyLinks
Home of pay it forward Comox Valley
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Gift of Time
When my daughter moved to another city to start university studies, I worried about her feeling disconnected and lonely. We called each other by phone, sent email messages back and forth and visited as often as was possible, nevertheless, I always worried that she might need something sometime and I wouldn’t know it. One day she called me to say how excited she was to have had a surprise visit that day from a couple from her home town who knew she was at the university and just thought they’d like to see how she was doing. That small gift of time and caring buoyed my daughter’s spirits for a long time. Years later now, she still speaks of how much she appreciated that small connection to “home”. Thank you to those who share the kindness of their time with others. You never know when your gift will be needed.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Sweetheart Smile
I was dining out in Vietnam with my family. This ragged boy watched; he looked like he was 7. Some people in the restaurant either avoided eye contact with him, or shooed him away as if he was “just a dirty street boy.”
Finally, I stepped up. I offered the boy food but he declined it and inched away. Then he peeked over again from around the corner. I had intentions on handing these Canadian pins to younger relatives, but instead, I handed him one. I finally saw this sweetheart smile and his face glowed. After our meal, he followed us to the taxi and waved good-bye.
Later on, I was walking towards the beach. “Hey!”
I looked on my side and there was that adorable boy! He excitedly chatted with me. I learnt that this 7 year old boy was not 7, but he was 12! He was a very petite boy.
Another day, I was swimming, and guess who showed up. “I was the boy you handed the pin to! Remember?”
“Of course I remember!” I introduced my (younger) siblings to him. I explained to them how we met.
I was with my siblings at the park, and there he was again! He helped me pack them around and looked after one while I watched the other. He wasn’t shy anymore. He was the sweetest boy with full potential who never seemed to have been given the chance. I felt amazing knowing I made a difference in somebody’s life.
I hope that my siblings learnt from my actions and realize not to be ignorant, and stick up for those who are different.
Finally, I stepped up. I offered the boy food but he declined it and inched away. Then he peeked over again from around the corner. I had intentions on handing these Canadian pins to younger relatives, but instead, I handed him one. I finally saw this sweetheart smile and his face glowed. After our meal, he followed us to the taxi and waved good-bye.
Later on, I was walking towards the beach. “Hey!”
I looked on my side and there was that adorable boy! He excitedly chatted with me. I learnt that this 7 year old boy was not 7, but he was 12! He was a very petite boy.
Another day, I was swimming, and guess who showed up. “I was the boy you handed the pin to! Remember?”
“Of course I remember!” I introduced my (younger) siblings to him. I explained to them how we met.
I was with my siblings at the park, and there he was again! He helped me pack them around and looked after one while I watched the other. He wasn’t shy anymore. He was the sweetest boy with full potential who never seemed to have been given the chance. I felt amazing knowing I made a difference in somebody’s life.
I hope that my siblings learnt from my actions and realize not to be ignorant, and stick up for those who are different.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Thank you is just not big enough ...
I’d like to let the world know about the kindness of two people that have played a very important part in my life and in the life of someone very special to me, for a little more than 18 years now. The funny thing is that I never knew them until I met them a few weeks ago. The very special person I mention … I just met her a few weeks ago too. This special girl is my daughter and the two people are her parents … her adoptive parents.
I was 15 years old. Just a little girl still, but old enough to know that I was not old enough to give my precious baby the life I wanted for her. I explained all this in a letter to the adoptive parents, along with the fact that I have a teddy bear that is identical to the one that went home with their new baby. I told them I’d keep this bear forever in the hopes that one day she and I would be reunited. They never hid this from her. In fact they gave her the letter I wrote for them.
It turns out that she has always had an interest in one day meeting me. Her parents have always been very open with her and supported her interest. They have been very open to meeting me and have welcomed me into their family.
For years I wondered … would she know? Would she understand? Would she want to know me? They could have told her anything they wanted. They could have hidden the letter. Could have kept it a secret about the teddy bear. Could have kept their daughter to themselves. Their openness and honesty is because they love her very much. But it’s not just love, but also an amazing and genuine kindness that they have shown her. And I see it as an amazing and genuine kindness they’ve shown me as well. I will never forget it and will be forever thankful for this very unselfish kindness.
To K.E.C.: I love you, I always have. To her parents: I thank you with all my heart and soul.
I was 15 years old. Just a little girl still, but old enough to know that I was not old enough to give my precious baby the life I wanted for her. I explained all this in a letter to the adoptive parents, along with the fact that I have a teddy bear that is identical to the one that went home with their new baby. I told them I’d keep this bear forever in the hopes that one day she and I would be reunited. They never hid this from her. In fact they gave her the letter I wrote for them.
It turns out that she has always had an interest in one day meeting me. Her parents have always been very open with her and supported her interest. They have been very open to meeting me and have welcomed me into their family.
For years I wondered … would she know? Would she understand? Would she want to know me? They could have told her anything they wanted. They could have hidden the letter. Could have kept it a secret about the teddy bear. Could have kept their daughter to themselves. Their openness and honesty is because they love her very much. But it’s not just love, but also an amazing and genuine kindness that they have shown her. And I see it as an amazing and genuine kindness they’ve shown me as well. I will never forget it and will be forever thankful for this very unselfish kindness.
To K.E.C.: I love you, I always have. To her parents: I thank you with all my heart and soul.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
An Experience that Will Stick
The first Komox Brownies from the Comox Valley and the first Wellington Brownies from Nanaimo participated recently in Hands Across the Border at the Peace Arch Border Crossing.
We thought we would go a day early and take the girls to Playland, so we arranged bus service with Cardinal Bus Lines to take us to all of our prearranged locations. All 47 of us arrived at playland at 11 am. just as the gates opened for the day. The plan was to play until 5 pm then have dinner at the White Spot in Playland. Our bus was to come back at 7pm. Although it was pouring rain we really didn't count on Playland having to close due to weather. But at 3pm, Playland closed for the day.
Starting at about 1pm a Brownie Leader and a Playland manager made many attemps in vain to contact Cardinal Bus Lines to come back and pick us up early. Slight panic began to set in as we wondered what were were going to do for 4 hours in the pouring rain with 35 eight year old girls.
This is where the Playland staff far exceeded our wildest expectations.
At 3 pm once the park closed, they honoured the package deal and fed all of us White Spot.
After finishing our meal (with 3 hours left to wait for the bus) the manager and her staff decided to open up six of the carnival-type games to our group. They split the group in to teams, showed everyone how to play the games, let them practice, then led everyone through a very organized tournament. The staff ran each game with more enthusiasm than I have ever seen and made all of us forget that we were stranded in the pouring rain.
From the beginning the girls were told that this was for fun and no prizes were going to be given out. In the end they surprised everyone yet again by giving the overall winner a large stuffed toy, the team with the most points a medium stuffed toy and everyone else got a small stuffed toy. Everyone was more than thrilled.
With an hour to go they took all of us back in to the White Spot where they had made hot chocolate and coffee. At 7pm our bus arrived and we all left Playland soaking wet, tired and very, very happy.
A very large part of Brownies is to teach the girls about kindness, caring for others and caring for the community around you.
The staff at Playland not only saved a group from being out in the pouring rain; they showed our Brownies first hand how it feels when someone steps up and helps out. These girls often give this gift to others and rearly recieve it in return. This was an experience that will stick with them forever.
We thought we would go a day early and take the girls to Playland, so we arranged bus service with Cardinal Bus Lines to take us to all of our prearranged locations. All 47 of us arrived at playland at 11 am. just as the gates opened for the day. The plan was to play until 5 pm then have dinner at the White Spot in Playland. Our bus was to come back at 7pm. Although it was pouring rain we really didn't count on Playland having to close due to weather. But at 3pm, Playland closed for the day.
Starting at about 1pm a Brownie Leader and a Playland manager made many attemps in vain to contact Cardinal Bus Lines to come back and pick us up early. Slight panic began to set in as we wondered what were were going to do for 4 hours in the pouring rain with 35 eight year old girls.
This is where the Playland staff far exceeded our wildest expectations.
At 3 pm once the park closed, they honoured the package deal and fed all of us White Spot.
After finishing our meal (with 3 hours left to wait for the bus) the manager and her staff decided to open up six of the carnival-type games to our group. They split the group in to teams, showed everyone how to play the games, let them practice, then led everyone through a very organized tournament. The staff ran each game with more enthusiasm than I have ever seen and made all of us forget that we were stranded in the pouring rain.
From the beginning the girls were told that this was for fun and no prizes were going to be given out. In the end they surprised everyone yet again by giving the overall winner a large stuffed toy, the team with the most points a medium stuffed toy and everyone else got a small stuffed toy. Everyone was more than thrilled.
With an hour to go they took all of us back in to the White Spot where they had made hot chocolate and coffee. At 7pm our bus arrived and we all left Playland soaking wet, tired and very, very happy.
A very large part of Brownies is to teach the girls about kindness, caring for others and caring for the community around you.
The staff at Playland not only saved a group from being out in the pouring rain; they showed our Brownies first hand how it feels when someone steps up and helps out. These girls often give this gift to others and rearly recieve it in return. This was an experience that will stick with them forever.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Food for Thought
"What we do for ourselves dies with us, what we do for others lives on forever"
...John
...John
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Are You a Teacher?
Very unexpectedly, many years ago, while I was on a bus on my way home after work, I was facing a set of lovely, wide open sparkling hazel eyes.
Those eyes were the inquisitive eyes of a little girl six to eight years of age. She was with her mother.
As I rose from my seat to leave and proceeded towards the door, she starred very intently and said to me, “are you a teacher?”. I smiled and replied, “No, I am not”. I looked into her eyes and my thoughts were…, “we are all teachers”.
I felt a warmth and tenderness from her question and I knew that she felt my warmth that I shared through my smile. As she smiled back and snuggled in her seat, her eyes followed me when I embarked through the front door, and passed by her window as the bus pulled away.
We both waved ‘bye and I felt so very good.
My childhood years were not happy years. I am one of ten children born into a poor family. My father was an alcoholic and he brutally beat my mother. His verbal abuse still haunts me.
I was about eight years old when my two older sisters left our Alberta farm and went to the Okanagan to pick fruit so they could earn some money. My parent’s farm was not a very productive farm.
My brothers also left home to work in BC, partly to earn money, but now that I’m older I’m sure they left to get away form our dysfunctional family.
When my sisters returned after the fruit harvesting, they brought me a gold ring with my birthstone for my skinny finger.
To-day, some sixty years later, I can still feel the warmth, the inner glow of being remembered. It was so special. I was special enough to be in their thoughts! Special enough to be in their hearts!
This was the first time I felt this way.
My mother had her own problems to contend with, and she had a drunk to deal with, so how could she remember to love me?
I put the ring on my finger and my heart cracked! We didn’t hug or kiss with thanks because we didn’t know how.
I ran outside into the yard and held my hands clasped with joy! I was deliriously happy. I hugged a tree with one arm and swung around and around and around! I dropped dizzy! I was completely breathless!
After a week of steady rain, the slough at the back of the house was filled to it’s brim, so to speak.
We used the water from this slough to was our clothes. It was our water source for watering the garden and to bath with. One morning, I waded into that slough. I often spent my days there trying to catch tadpoles and frogs.
The weeds looked tall and beautiful. The reflections of the trees were beautiful too. The sounds of the frogs and birds calmed my heart and the peace and tranquility helped me to forget the abuse.
It was my sanctuary.
I waded further into that slough and the water was much deeper, almost reaching my hips. For an eight year old that was deep!
I reached down to pull out a flowering weed. My thought was… “Hummmmmm…..if I can get the root, I can plant it and have a flower bed by the house”. I did not know what kind of a flower it was, whether it was a weed, hay, or grass was only to guess, as not one ever explained anything like that to me. To ask was to be told to shut up and to be ignored.
As I pulled on the weed, I looked to see if I had the roots. O yes! I had the roots. But I lost the ring!
It slipped off my finger and it was gone!
The depth of the water rose from the stream of my tears and became murky. I could not see the bottom. The ripples from the pulling of the root stirred it and I couldn’t see a thing. All I saw was dirty black water! I stood and cried and cried and cried some more. My heart cracked again. It not only cracked but it broke! My beautiful sapphire ring was gone! I lost it. How could I be so stupid? Why didn’t I take it off? Why did I need that weed? What would my father do to me now? What would my sisters do to me now? O course, I knew. They would all hate me forever. This is how it was in our house. A murky life like the dirty water! The loss of the ring was one emotion to deal with, but the guilt was a bigger issue by far. It was killing me. I ran out of tears. I had to find that ring! There was no way out. I did not dare move! I did not want to cloud the water even more.
“The ring has to be there”, I said to myself.
I waited for hours until the water was clear and I searched and searched not daring to take a step.
No ring!
It must have sunk into the muddy bottom or maybe it fell into the “hole” where I pulled the root.
I crouched down and focused my eyes on that spot. Nothing!
The tadpoles swam and wiggled around my ankles and my knees. I did not move.
“Surely the frogs don’t eat rings”.
The robins sang in the trees and the meadowlark made me cry again.
I must find it. I must”.
It was sunset and no one missed me. Evening shadows were falling on the slough. The thought of darkness scared me. I starred more.
I stood up to stretch my back and to wipe my eyes. The mosquitoes were sucking me dry.
“I will not leave”. The quietness overwhelmed me again and it became darker. More tears and more guilt made it impossible to see. Even the sunset rays scared me as they mingled with the evening shadows. My tears were drowning me, but I managed to crouch down so low that my nose touched the slough. Inch by inch, I twisted from side to side and back again making a complete circle, focusing out as far as I could see. No ring. The weight of the guilt became too heavy, and I though I died. I lost hope. “I have to. I have to”. Shaking and trembling, I focused on a ray of sunshine about a foot away to my left and…… there it was. There was my ring on the bottom of the slough surrounded by tadpoles and weeds.
Today, I remember this experience as a lesson in determination. This determination is a gift and I still recognize it as such. It gives me self-worth. The determination to survive, determination not to fail and determination against all odds. The dictionary defines determination as…stubborn, resolve, give aim, purpose or direction.
It is a quality of being earnest and decided, firmness, decisive force or power. This determination carried me through my teenage years and into excelling at school.
Years later, we left the farm and moved to a small town. I was in grade seven and I was super smart. My sister was in grade eight and in the same classroom, as was common in that day and era. One teacher taught both classes, shifting from one to the other.
Whenever the male teacher did oral question and answer periods with the grade eight class, I’d answer every question before anyone even raised their hand. I never raised my hand. I was totally out of line. I was very rude to say the least. I answered every question proving to be better and smarter…..always.
My sister often said to me, “you’d better shut up or you’ll get into trouble”. Well, she was wrong. I was never disciplined and I continued to speak out of turn and out of line. Mr. Teacher was very serene and he smiled a lot. He often clasped his hands and I still see his warm glances.
I had no friends and I was so lonely. Crying put me to sleep every night. I couldn’t understand why no one liked me. No one at home liked me either and my sister was embarrassed. The warm smile of Mr. Teacher was my only comfort. I continued to interrupt the class all year. Mr. Teacher never asked me to stop. He never indicated that I was out of line or that I was disruptive.
He watched and smiled.
When the school year ended and the report cards were handed out, everyone got theirs first and I was the last to be called. My heart was broken and once again I knew that no one cared, as usual. I held back my tears and finally I walked up to the front of the class to accept my report card. I was so scared I though I’d wet my pants. Instead of handing me my report card, Mr. Teacher stood and smiled, saying to the class, “I have a special announcement for all. Donna, (as I was called back then) has proven to be exceptionally able to skip grade eight. She will be entering grade nine in September. Congratulations Donna and good luck”. He clapped his hands and smiled even harder than I’d ever seen him smile before. The whole class room clapped too. Mr. Teacher’s smile was like that ray of sunshine that helped me find my ring so many years before! A guiding light! Because Mr. Teacher recognized my potential as capacity for accomplishment, I knew that it would be possible for me to have a good opinion of myself. Today I refer to this as self esteem. I thank God for Mr. Teacher. He gave me courage and I excelled in grade nine and I was the runner up for the Governor Generals award. At the end of grade nine my high school principal allowed me to enter grade eleven. I sailed through school and I was some one for the first time in my life. These teachers believed in me. From them I acquired a quality of mind which meets opposition with calmness and firmness. This is referred to as “courage”.
I define happiness as enjoyment and giving, or indicating pleasure. Along with this happiness comes complete gratification or satisfaction.
To be happy primarily refers to something that comes “by good hap”, a chance that brings benefit or success. Happiness is a grace of blessedness that spreads out form your centre and radiates as a light from the sun! In my mind, I hold a Regal Portrait of Mr. Teacher. Those memories of kindness carry me through my life to day and will for the rest of my life. I have been inspired to believe in dreams. Some of my dreams are simple pleasures such as having my grandchildren teach me to roller blade at age 65. They inspire me when they say to me, “I love you a lot Gramma”.
My passion is to help children. They are of special interest to me. I want to give to them what my teachers gave me, and that is….trust, inspiration, guidance and happiness.
Like that little girl on the bus, I look children in their eyes. I smile and I hope that I radiate warmth. Subconsciously, I am drawn to children and extend friendship, peace and self worth by my actions. When I talk to them I smile into their eyes, just as Mr. Teacher did. I listen to their questions and I bend down to their level. I know there is an answer to everything!
I do this in grocery stores, at bus stops and on the street, everywhere I can. I hope I am the booster shot of strength and determination and courage as it is needed.
Are you a teacher?
Those eyes were the inquisitive eyes of a little girl six to eight years of age. She was with her mother.
As I rose from my seat to leave and proceeded towards the door, she starred very intently and said to me, “are you a teacher?”. I smiled and replied, “No, I am not”. I looked into her eyes and my thoughts were…, “we are all teachers”.
I felt a warmth and tenderness from her question and I knew that she felt my warmth that I shared through my smile. As she smiled back and snuggled in her seat, her eyes followed me when I embarked through the front door, and passed by her window as the bus pulled away.
We both waved ‘bye and I felt so very good.
My childhood years were not happy years. I am one of ten children born into a poor family. My father was an alcoholic and he brutally beat my mother. His verbal abuse still haunts me.
I was about eight years old when my two older sisters left our Alberta farm and went to the Okanagan to pick fruit so they could earn some money. My parent’s farm was not a very productive farm.
My brothers also left home to work in BC, partly to earn money, but now that I’m older I’m sure they left to get away form our dysfunctional family.
When my sisters returned after the fruit harvesting, they brought me a gold ring with my birthstone for my skinny finger.
To-day, some sixty years later, I can still feel the warmth, the inner glow of being remembered. It was so special. I was special enough to be in their thoughts! Special enough to be in their hearts!
This was the first time I felt this way.
My mother had her own problems to contend with, and she had a drunk to deal with, so how could she remember to love me?
I put the ring on my finger and my heart cracked! We didn’t hug or kiss with thanks because we didn’t know how.
I ran outside into the yard and held my hands clasped with joy! I was deliriously happy. I hugged a tree with one arm and swung around and around and around! I dropped dizzy! I was completely breathless!
After a week of steady rain, the slough at the back of the house was filled to it’s brim, so to speak.
We used the water from this slough to was our clothes. It was our water source for watering the garden and to bath with. One morning, I waded into that slough. I often spent my days there trying to catch tadpoles and frogs.
The weeds looked tall and beautiful. The reflections of the trees were beautiful too. The sounds of the frogs and birds calmed my heart and the peace and tranquility helped me to forget the abuse.
It was my sanctuary.
I waded further into that slough and the water was much deeper, almost reaching my hips. For an eight year old that was deep!
I reached down to pull out a flowering weed. My thought was… “Hummmmmm…..if I can get the root, I can plant it and have a flower bed by the house”. I did not know what kind of a flower it was, whether it was a weed, hay, or grass was only to guess, as not one ever explained anything like that to me. To ask was to be told to shut up and to be ignored.
As I pulled on the weed, I looked to see if I had the roots. O yes! I had the roots. But I lost the ring!
It slipped off my finger and it was gone!
The depth of the water rose from the stream of my tears and became murky. I could not see the bottom. The ripples from the pulling of the root stirred it and I couldn’t see a thing. All I saw was dirty black water! I stood and cried and cried and cried some more. My heart cracked again. It not only cracked but it broke! My beautiful sapphire ring was gone! I lost it. How could I be so stupid? Why didn’t I take it off? Why did I need that weed? What would my father do to me now? What would my sisters do to me now? O course, I knew. They would all hate me forever. This is how it was in our house. A murky life like the dirty water! The loss of the ring was one emotion to deal with, but the guilt was a bigger issue by far. It was killing me. I ran out of tears. I had to find that ring! There was no way out. I did not dare move! I did not want to cloud the water even more.
“The ring has to be there”, I said to myself.
I waited for hours until the water was clear and I searched and searched not daring to take a step.
No ring!
It must have sunk into the muddy bottom or maybe it fell into the “hole” where I pulled the root.
I crouched down and focused my eyes on that spot. Nothing!
The tadpoles swam and wiggled around my ankles and my knees. I did not move.
“Surely the frogs don’t eat rings”.
The robins sang in the trees and the meadowlark made me cry again.
I must find it. I must”.
It was sunset and no one missed me. Evening shadows were falling on the slough. The thought of darkness scared me. I starred more.
I stood up to stretch my back and to wipe my eyes. The mosquitoes were sucking me dry.
“I will not leave”. The quietness overwhelmed me again and it became darker. More tears and more guilt made it impossible to see. Even the sunset rays scared me as they mingled with the evening shadows. My tears were drowning me, but I managed to crouch down so low that my nose touched the slough. Inch by inch, I twisted from side to side and back again making a complete circle, focusing out as far as I could see. No ring. The weight of the guilt became too heavy, and I though I died. I lost hope. “I have to. I have to”. Shaking and trembling, I focused on a ray of sunshine about a foot away to my left and…… there it was. There was my ring on the bottom of the slough surrounded by tadpoles and weeds.
Today, I remember this experience as a lesson in determination. This determination is a gift and I still recognize it as such. It gives me self-worth. The determination to survive, determination not to fail and determination against all odds. The dictionary defines determination as…stubborn, resolve, give aim, purpose or direction.
It is a quality of being earnest and decided, firmness, decisive force or power. This determination carried me through my teenage years and into excelling at school.
Years later, we left the farm and moved to a small town. I was in grade seven and I was super smart. My sister was in grade eight and in the same classroom, as was common in that day and era. One teacher taught both classes, shifting from one to the other.
Whenever the male teacher did oral question and answer periods with the grade eight class, I’d answer every question before anyone even raised their hand. I never raised my hand. I was totally out of line. I was very rude to say the least. I answered every question proving to be better and smarter…..always.
My sister often said to me, “you’d better shut up or you’ll get into trouble”. Well, she was wrong. I was never disciplined and I continued to speak out of turn and out of line. Mr. Teacher was very serene and he smiled a lot. He often clasped his hands and I still see his warm glances.
I had no friends and I was so lonely. Crying put me to sleep every night. I couldn’t understand why no one liked me. No one at home liked me either and my sister was embarrassed. The warm smile of Mr. Teacher was my only comfort. I continued to interrupt the class all year. Mr. Teacher never asked me to stop. He never indicated that I was out of line or that I was disruptive.
He watched and smiled.
When the school year ended and the report cards were handed out, everyone got theirs first and I was the last to be called. My heart was broken and once again I knew that no one cared, as usual. I held back my tears and finally I walked up to the front of the class to accept my report card. I was so scared I though I’d wet my pants. Instead of handing me my report card, Mr. Teacher stood and smiled, saying to the class, “I have a special announcement for all. Donna, (as I was called back then) has proven to be exceptionally able to skip grade eight. She will be entering grade nine in September. Congratulations Donna and good luck”. He clapped his hands and smiled even harder than I’d ever seen him smile before. The whole class room clapped too. Mr. Teacher’s smile was like that ray of sunshine that helped me find my ring so many years before! A guiding light! Because Mr. Teacher recognized my potential as capacity for accomplishment, I knew that it would be possible for me to have a good opinion of myself. Today I refer to this as self esteem. I thank God for Mr. Teacher. He gave me courage and I excelled in grade nine and I was the runner up for the Governor Generals award. At the end of grade nine my high school principal allowed me to enter grade eleven. I sailed through school and I was some one for the first time in my life. These teachers believed in me. From them I acquired a quality of mind which meets opposition with calmness and firmness. This is referred to as “courage”.
I define happiness as enjoyment and giving, or indicating pleasure. Along with this happiness comes complete gratification or satisfaction.
To be happy primarily refers to something that comes “by good hap”, a chance that brings benefit or success. Happiness is a grace of blessedness that spreads out form your centre and radiates as a light from the sun! In my mind, I hold a Regal Portrait of Mr. Teacher. Those memories of kindness carry me through my life to day and will for the rest of my life. I have been inspired to believe in dreams. Some of my dreams are simple pleasures such as having my grandchildren teach me to roller blade at age 65. They inspire me when they say to me, “I love you a lot Gramma”.
My passion is to help children. They are of special interest to me. I want to give to them what my teachers gave me, and that is….trust, inspiration, guidance and happiness.
Like that little girl on the bus, I look children in their eyes. I smile and I hope that I radiate warmth. Subconsciously, I am drawn to children and extend friendship, peace and self worth by my actions. When I talk to them I smile into their eyes, just as Mr. Teacher did. I listen to their questions and I bend down to their level. I know there is an answer to everything!
I do this in grocery stores, at bus stops and on the street, everywhere I can. I hope I am the booster shot of strength and determination and courage as it is needed.
Are you a teacher?
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