A lot of people muse over experiences from their childhood, which may have in some way or the other shaped their behavioural patterns today. I know I do, and an experience a friend shared with me years ago comes to mind.
Mercy once had a teacher who never cracked a smile. Let’s call him Mr. X. The only time he ever expressed pure glee was when he was punishing a student with his long “devil”, as he called his cane. Little wonder he was hated by all the students who were unlucky enough to experience his punishments.
One certain day, Mr. X got to school in the morning, looking sad and dejected. It was the last day of the school session, and students taunted him without mercy, seeing that they could get away with it. His reaction was quite unusual. His shoulders slumped more, and his features stayed downcast. And the ridicule seemed to have no end.
Little Sarah, the five-year-old daughter of another teacher, skipped around him, oblivious to his mood. And each time she played next to him, he did not attempt to return the smile she gave. Mercy said she quietly observed from a corner, waiting for a scold or sneer from the heartless monster they all knew so well.
After repeated trials, Sarah came forward, closer than anyone had dared. She smiled and touched him, whispering something into his ears. And behold! The man whom everyone had believed sold his heart to the highest bidder gave her the most genuine smile ever. He knelt and hugged the little girl, struggling to hold his tears.
Mercy could only wonder what was said, but she didn’t have to wonder for long. When school resumed after the break for a new session, he mounted the podium and shared the events of that day. He told the story of how the words of a little girl had melted him in ways he had not imagined possible.
That day, he had come into school having just lost his wife to a car crash – the same crash, which had sent his son into a coma. Despite the devastating news, he was forced to come into school because he had a presentation with the School Board and Directors over a project which could not be rescheduled.
As he struggled to navigate the immense grief in his heart that day, that little girl had asked him if he would like a hug because her mother told her it was the best medicine to get a smile.
It may not have sounded like much, but at that moment, it meant the world to a grieving man. That day, the devil himself was buried, and a teacher who grew to become loved by all, resurrected in his place.
Years after, I still think about little Sarah and wonder if she came to understand the ramifications of her actions that day, and how it changed a grown man and turned his life around.
Sarah made me understand the power of kindness and random gestures and their effects that ripple far wider than one may ordinarily expect. And I can only imagine how much more improved humanity will be if these kind actions were replicated by all!
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Love,
Diane
