unspeakable change: number two of fifty

sometimes it's as simple as witnessing change that occurs in a person. their growth leaves something unspeakable attached to you which remains forever. and this is how the second on my list will be remembered.

she was a crier. everyday. as if it would really get her out of running laps in my class. her tears came because "she couldn't do it" or because she didn't like the game or because she didn't understand my directions. in reality, the cause was her slight immaturity combined with low self-confidence. despite the fact that i'm also a crier, i would pat her on the back and send her on her way: running laps, playing the game, and generally doing whatever it was i had instructed the rest of the class to do. i would take time out of the game to explain rules in her terminology which often involved the use of cats or hamsters. i spent the whole first year trying to convince her that she should ask questions, use her words, rather than break down sobbing. she was the student that i was certain would never enjoy any sort of physical activity and would probably always dread coming to my class.

during the second year, something changed in her. i found that she had a glorious smile that complimented her wildly curly red hair. she ran her laps slower than most, but without tears. she participated, but still hung back at times. every now and then, she would even ask for an explanation. one day in the middle of a soccer game, i watched as the ball flew through the air aimed at her. i expected her normal action: running away, but instead was greeted with surprise as i watched her intentially meet the ball with her head, bump it with her chest, and send it reeling to the ground. later she beamed at me with confidence as she explained to me that another more adept classmate had told her doing a header doesn't actually hurt.

later in the year i met her in the hallway. i greeted her with a hello. she paused, grinned from ear to ear, and started to bob up and down as she skipped the hello to declare "i love hockey!" i don't know what changed her, but it was obvious that something had gotten to her core. my last day of school, i pulled her aside to encourage the change i had seen. before i could even get the words out, she hugged me hard and said she was going to miss me. at the end of our little conversation, she gave me her version of high five called a "migh nive" and bounced her curly head all the way back to her mother. there was something powerful in the newfound confidence of this little girl, and this time as she ran, it was my tears that fell.