Unexpected Can Be Kind

Earlier this week, I was doing what I love best. I was engaged in a reflective cognitive coaching conversation with one of my new colleagues. As I paused, paraphrased, and posed questions, she carefully considered her responses as we dialogued about the week, affirmed her progress as a professional educator, and captured short and long-term goals. She shared anecdotes to illustrate moments inside her classroom and shared a story that caused me to pause, consider, and reflect. I wanted to share it with you.

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You would never think she would have done it, but she did. Hannah, a sophomore in high school with a blended family, unstable living arrangements, and a host of mental health concerns, is kind. However, you might miss it–her kindness. Just recently, she rejected another student stating flatly, “I am not going to work with Alex…he is not smart. Stupid.” On another occasion, she voiced, “All these teachers are hating on me. I didn’t even do anything and she snatched my phone.” On the surface, her ruby-red colored lips spouting whatever comes to her adolescent mind might leave you thinking, “That girl is a mess. Why does she hate so much? What happened in her life?” And while these thoughts have intersected my mind, Hannah is the epitome of kindness. She wants to be listened to. She aspires to work as a medical professional. She will work hard if you encourage and coach her. Her humor is flavorful and her smile is contagious. When my coaching partner began to describe a situation involving Hannah this past week, I was all ears. She matters to me. She makes me curious. Here’s what happened:

The four-minute intervals between periods provide just enough time for teachers to catch a much needed restroom break. So when her co-teacher reentered the room with her Tervis full of water and a verbal prompt for students to complete the warm-up activity, it was like any other day. Except it wasn’t. On today’s quick break, her co-teacher had the unthinkable happen. Four squares of perforated white tissue flanked her backside like a mummy’s tail. Without pause, Hannah jumped out of her chair, raced to the co-teacher and addressed her in hushed tones, “Hey, Ms. X, you have tissue paper in your waistband.” At this point, other students noticed Hannah out of her seat and began to snicker. Again, without pause, she said, “The rest of you would have just let her keep the tissue there. That’s so mean.” She assisted the co-teacher, even going so far to dispose of the squares of tissue.

My coaching partner shared that she found Hannah’s behavior unexpected. She never thought she would have come to the aide of an adult. This week, how I see Hannah was exposed to my coaching partner. She remembered to see the goodness in others. As we enter this cold week, when we might be feeling distant, “over winter,” exhausted, ask yourself: Who needs listening to? How can I give a “Hannah” the benefit of the doubt? Who will benefit from my encouragement? What are ways I might expose the goodness in those around me? How can I be tender and gracious with others?

That’s kind.