You Have My Word

You Have My Word

We fed the kindergartner his breakfast because he refused to eat at home. In first grade his behavior escalated to become injurious to himself and others. He broke his teachers glasses and tried to run across a six lane highway during rush hour. The lost boy was hurting because his mom was incarcerated and his dad was nowhere to be found.

In spite of limited academic support at home, he was a learner. His teachers guided his learning and the young boy was a first grade reader and would continue to be a learner throughout his elementary school years. He was a loyal friend and his classmates loved him.

For six years, including a year of residential treatment, extraordinary caring educators guided a socially maladjusted hurting child to connect to his heart. Lessons taught about using words and asking for help decreased his injurious and insubordinate behavior. He became a school leader.

Then it happened, the anger returned and the principal and kid were sitting alone in the office. My young friend sat forward on the chair with head in his hands and his elbows on his knees hiding the tears dripping to the floor. His back was against the wall and he reverted back to fighting first and explaining second. Just as his home life was on solid ground, the storm of addiction ripped it away. He was hurting and expressed his anger and fear through disrespect and insubordination.

The boy and I sat alone in my office. I liked this kid and my heart was aching for him. I wanted to hug him, but I knew he had his teachers to comfort him. What did this boy need from me? I sat forward in my chair, my head in my hands and my elbows on my knees hiding the tears dripping down to the floor. Praying and searching for the right words, I needed to find the words and strategies to help my hurting boy.

Feeling sorry doesn’t help. Excusing his behavior doesn’t teach. Hurting children need control and a plan. I raised my head looked him in the eye and softly said, “Buddy… I know it hurts, but you know it’s not an excuse to hurt others and be disrespectful.” He raised his head and nodded in agreement. Looking him straight in the eye, I explained that every time I cut him break he continues to escalate and I end up suspending him. I firmly asked how would I know that this time it would be different.

He sat for the longest time with his head in his hands staring at the floor. He slowly stood up and stuck his hand out and looked me in the eye. I shook his hand and listened as he stated, “You have my word…I promise to make the right choice.” I squeezed his hand and said to him you better keep that word. The boy was stubborn enough to keep his promise.

For the next forty-five days, he kept his word and would remind me with a smile that he was proving his point. The last day of school my boy was walking around saying good-bye to his teachers. I waited outside my office as he walked confidently towards me. He stuck out his hand and we shook. He looked me in the eye and said, “I kept my word.”

He slowly walked away and then it happened. His arms encircled me. My boy was saying thank you without words. I softly whispered I am so proud of you. I walked back to my office. Sitting in my chair with my head in my hands, a joyful thankful tear dripped to the floor. Sometimes prayers are answered with a handshake and a promise. He kept his word.