Ah, Spring!

It's hard not to get excited in the spring from when you start seeing tightly curled green leaves poking out from under the brown, dead leaves of winter to the moment you notice a flurry of activity going on at the bird nesting box in the back yard. I absolutely LOVE driving to and from work every day and admiring the towering trees that serve as scaffolding for literally a cascade of lavender wisteria. Although the fine golden dusting of pine pollen that covers the world and everything in it is an inconvenience, it just draws your attention to the riot of color popping up all over the place. Spring makes you think of baby bunnies, baby birds and all the hope and aspirations that new innocent life brings to the human heart. I couldn't help but contemplate this when two unrelated events coincided in my life today. It gave me pause, and compelled me to reflect a little on the visceral reaction that parents have when it comes to their children. You really can't explain this to the non-parent. In fact, they cannot even quite grasp the depth of raw feeling that wells up inside the parent and it will probably take them by surprise when they first scan their own progeny.

Today, two seemingly unrelated events occurred: my son's good friend posted a picture of his brand new baby daughter on his blog space and just as I got into the car after school I received a call from the parent of one of my students. Let's take the first event.... the baby picture. Absolutely adorable little scrunched up face surrounded by a pink frilly bonnet. I talked to her proud daddy last night and he alluded then as well as in his blog about how totally amazed and awed he is by this incredible production of his and his wife's. As every parent, he sees only potential and perfection. We hope our children reflect the best of our qualities and somehow escape embodying our failings. As a new parent you spend many long periods of time watching this beautiful creation and imagine all the wonderful achievements that will come. Every parent silently vows to do everything within their power to give this new human being all the things necessary to reach their full potential.

Of course, there will be some bumps along the way. We aren't as perfect as parents as we promise ourselves we will be. Our child has flaws and characteristics that will not mesh with our plans for them. It's incredibly hard for a parent to take the dreams and hopes that have been carefully nourished over 10-15 years and see them fall or fade away. Sometimes a parent can gracefully accept that their child chooses a different path, but sometimes, the path the child takes is not through choice but that doesn't make it any easier for the parent.

That brings me to the second event...the phone call. My student is 17 and has pretty much failed school all his life. He is in a sophomore class but should be at least a junior or senior. When he first arrived in my class I found out that he has been bounced back and forth between schools and parents and also, the piece de resistance, he has an I.Q. somewhere between 70 and 75. Typically, an I.Q. under 70 is considered mentally handicapped. After eleven years of pretty much abysmal failure in school and all the social ramifications of that, he is extremely withdrawn and hopeless. The differences between him and his classmates is not lost on him. As it happens, he is seated in front of a gifted senior who takes mostly Advanced Placement classes. This senior is in a sophomore class because he transferred from another state and has not yet taken World History, a required course for graduation. The differences between these two classmates couldn't be more striking.

Anyway, the father is frantic that his son graduate from high school. In the e-mails he sends me and in his voice when he calls, you can clearly detect the urgency and concern through the badly spelled, grammatically incorrect communications. I know when he calls there will be a hopeful tone in his voice. He doesn't want to bother me but could I tell him how his son is doing? Is he doing any better this week? He asks him every day if he has any homework but when I hear this I know he is silently telling me, "I'm trying so hard, Mrs. Jolle, to be a good parent, please don't think I'm not trying." I know he is trying, but I don't have the heart to be yet another teacher who tells him his son is not able to do the work, that he is not smart enough. So I try to be honest but sensitive to his feelings...yes, he has done his homework and he took the test. He failed the test with a 53 but that is better than the zero he got on the last test. I can almost hear his shoulders slump as clearly as I hear the soft background sound of him exhaling very slowly as if all the air is going out of him along with his hope that this week would be different. I have this quick flash thought that seventeen years ago this father looked at his newborn son with all the hope and pride that my son's friend is looking at his daughter with today.

The bird nesting box in my back yard is occupied by a pair of nuthatches that are industriously feeding a clutch of nestlings, readying them for the day when they will venture forth and the parents work is done. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that all the fledglings will successfully fly out of that box and into the big area beyond. Spring is all about hope.