Help Me Help You

Jackie ♦ March 17, 2010 ♦ 3 Comments

One of my fears as my girls grew older was that soon, they would move into that part of childhood where they have secret fears and hurts, the kind that can’t be fixed with a Band-aid, the kind that might fester in the dark corners of their little minds, the kind I wish with all my heart they would share with me. So a while back, maybe when they were in kindergarten, whenever they told me things they were upset about, like a fight with a friend on the playground or some interaction with an adult that upset them, I always made sure to thank them for sharing with me. “Thank you so much for telling me that,” I say. “Because if you don’t talk to me, then I don’t know how to help you, and helping you when you’re unhappy is one of my most important jobs as your mom.”

The week before my spring break, I found myself thinking about this as I had various conversations in my school with students in varying levels of distress and upset. I tried to thank each one of them, with words and hugs, for trusting me enough to let me into their own pains and heartbreaks. “I am so glad you came to me,” I would say. “Thank you so much for sharing this with me.” At least one girl looked back at me and said, “Really? Why would you want to hear all this?” And I replied, “Because it would break my heart to think that you girls felt like you were all alone here, and had no one here at school who would listen to you or try to help you.”

Once you see your kids walk away from you and out into the world, the chances increase that their circle of trusted adults will widen, and include adults outside your family, adults you don’t know that well. I’ve been very lucky so far with my kids’ teachers, and I hope that will continue, and when they are older, I know they might someday to turn to another adult before, or instead of, turning to me. Even the idea of that makes me shiver, but as a teacher, I know it’s true. And I want them to have that kind of support at their school, especially in those tumultuous adolescent years.

Basically, I was saying to those students: I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, so please, please talk to me, no matter how sad the story, so that we can try and make it better, as a variation of what I say to my own girls. I hope someday, a trusted teacher might say those words to my kids, and I hope somehow, my students’ parents know I’m saying it to their girls, and meaning every word.