Book Excerpt
(Click here for an audio excerpt read by Wendy.)
"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." --Albert Einstein
The Miracle of Bill
The classroom was silent as I faced the dusty chalkboard and began writing the night's lesson. Suddenly, I heard a rustling noise. I quickly turned, and that's when I saw him. A most unusual student. The man was older, 30 perhaps, large, even bear-like, with a wandering eye and a pronounced limp.
"May I help you?" I asked hesitantly.
Often, on the first day of class, community college students end up in the wrong room. This older man, with his somewhat off-putting, even unnerving, appearance surely was not in my beginning English course. However, his answer surprised me, and, I'm ashamed to admit, slightly dismayed me.
"I'm here for English 099."
My class.
Within minutes, this force of nature was overwhelming me with the details of his life: years of drug abuse, a debilitating car accident, and serious doubts about attending college. For the next forty-five minutes, Bill held me captive.
"Oh boy," I thought, "it's going to be a long semester."
That night I left the college feeling slightly anxious about Bill's presence in my class (and life) for the next 15 weeks. The next few classes confirmed my fears: Bill was a challenge. First, there were the noises. Bill liked to sigh. A lot. Deeply and loudly. He also liked to clear his throat quite often. Other students would sometimes roll their eyes or shift irritably in their seats. Then there were the impulsive, loudly-blurted exclamations during quiet times. Bill would yell, "I don't know how to do this!", "What does this mean?!", or "How am I supposed to figure this out?!"
He would become easily frustrated, even angry, by material and activities that challenged him. As the days turned into weeks, it became increasingly clear to me that Bill was afraid. He did not want to fail. He had faced so many past disappointments and obstacles. I began to truly recognize the depth of his worries.
I also began to truly care about his success.
However, devoting myself to Bill's cause wasn't always easy, and it certainly wasn't always fun. Bill could drive me nuts sometimes with his many questions and challenges. But I made a firm commitment to him. And so we met before class; we talked during class; and we continued discussions after class. Often times we would sit at a table in the commons and chit chat about Bill's life. In the computer lab, we vigorously discussed his assignments, while we contemplated his past events and future dreams. For Bill, I always had a bright smile, a kind word, and a pat on the back. In all our everyday conversations and interactions, I consistently made an effort to show Bill my commitment to him. I even prayed on his behalf.
And guess what? This challenging older student who began with little confidence but much heartache showed up to my class every single night; he never missed one. Week after week, Bill tried his best, consistently demonstrating a strong willingness to learn and improve. And that's just what he did.
Surprising even himself, Bill passed my class.
Then one night at the semester's end, I finally quizzed Bill about something that had long been on my mind.
Feeling a bit frazzled that evening, I asked, "Bill, why are you always so early to my class? Fifteen minutes seems reasonable, even twenty. But you are always here some 45 minutes before my class begins."
In my mind, I also was thinking a bit selfishly that it would be nice to get a small break from Bill occasionally in order to write my lesson on the chalkboard in quiet. So, I continued: "I just don't understand why every class period you need to be here this early."
His slowly delivered reply caught me off guard. Pushing worn glasses up the bridge of his nose, Bill looked at me intently and said, "This is one of the few places someone cares about me and praises me. I like it here. I feel good."
His words touched me deeply.
As I drove home that crisp fall night, I was full of elation -- happy for Bill and happy for myself. I had been given the privilege and joy of witnessing and taking part in Bill's journey and success. That night, as I looked out over the darkened roadway, I vowed that I would strive to not only devote myself to every student, but, and be prepared for this, love every student! Yes love! I would do my best to love and actively express it to every child of God I was privileged to teach. Once again I realized that it was me who also was the student. Bill was a gift who taught me a most valuable lesson, a lesson about God's love.
Through the years I've been teaching, I've been blessed with many such "gifts" and witnessed many such success stories, or as I think of them, everyday miracles. I've seen students find confidence, courage, hope, determination, belief, understanding, and love for themselves and others. Some might not look at these transformations as miraculous. But I choose to agree with Albert Einstein. He claimed that, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
So, what exactly allowed for Bill's triumph in my English 099 course? What exactly creates such everyday classroom miracles?