Today seven-year-old Mikayla, the youngest girl in our school, watched me climb on a countertop in high heels to fetch a pot for tea and observed, “My mom would never do that.”
“I’m me,” I replied. This gave me an idea, “So what makes you, you?” Everyone in earshot eagerly chimed in (simultaneously of course):
I like to run, other people don’t have to.
Different eyes and skin.
I like peanut butter, so does Michael, but Isaiah and Mikayla don’t.
Dirt and lizards and pretty flowers.
I can eat what I like and you can eat what you like.
Writing a poem.
Computers and cars.
I can like math.
Ducks and monkeys and piano and drawing.
I like to read.
When I asked them to think about how school helps them become more fully themselves, the room was struck silent. Then, hesitantly the youngest girl in our group whispered a reply, “Courage.”
“You are right,” I applauded!
This little student, brave enough to raise her voice to a whisper, reminds me of Mark Twain’s booming voice whispering through time, “Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
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