Parallel Lives

Parallel Lives

We sometimes underestimate how our students influence our ability to reflect on our experiences.   ~~ Mary Magnusson

My student John really showed me courage this year when he wrote about the difficult time he was having with his unstable mother, “This person to me was my mother, who became mentally unstable after a time period of attempting to cope with a repealed right to see her kids. At first it’s only chilling to witness, but mental health is a peculiar thing in that it is so fragile that once disturbed, it takes people to different realities.” This student, his essay, really made me think about the strength it takes to write about something that is hard, something that we want to avoid. He wrote about how “Being raised in an environment where the two creators and guardians of your well-being are too hostile to engage in conversation produces a child of stone.” This is what harsh environments do.  They make us turn to stone.  Giving John the opportunity to write about his experiences reminded me of the potential of narrative writing, and how therapeutic it can be.  We don’t always know when we should write about ourselves, but when we decide to, we need to forge on no matter how hard it might be.  I had given John some feedback on his paper: I'm glad you chose to write about this topic. Of course I can't even begin to know what you have been through, but they way you have expressed yourself here shows a magnitude of maturity.  Where was I going to get the courage to write about the magnitude of my ten years at my previous school? I have so often felt like that same child of stone John describes when it came to talking or writing about it.

I did not have the courage to talk with John about what was going on with him.  Just like I

did not have the courage to write or talk about my dysfunctional experiences at my previous school.

In his essay John was able to step back and see the situation with a very mature and stable perspective. Yes, stepping back.  That’s what it took for him.  Almost a whole year.  For me it has been three years, and I’m just starting on my journey to put into words the betrayal and abuse and fatigue I experienced.

John admits at the end of his essay, As bad as it was, I felt sorry but not destroyed, after all my own life has yet to begin and I am on my own mission.” When I read his last line, I had such a sigh of relief.  Yes, John was not destroyed.  His own life was yet to begin.  He is on his own mission.  And, as bad as it was for me, I felt sorry too, but I guess I was only temporarily destroyed. My new school is a better place for me, and I’m starting to feel like I can grow again.