A Maxine Story

Today I had a one-on-one lesson with a middle school girl who I have been teaching for a couple of years. I have been pushing her to ask questions in general, and at the end of our hour I told her to ask me three questions, any topic.

She asked what I would do after our lesson. (Go home, prepare some dinner for Quinten, as Maxine and Horyon would be out.)

She asked another question, which I cannot remember.

Then she asked if anything special had happened to me. I pointed out that at 53 years old, I have had many, many special experiences, so she added, "recently."

I thought for a moment, then shared this with her:

Maxine's project is this weekend. She has been sleeping only three or four hours a night, staying late at school, and seriously stressing out. This morning, after her mother and brother had left, she came to me and said, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I really wanted to do my project in Korean and English, so that you could understand it. I just can't."

I was very quick to forgive her, and tell her that I hoped she would not worry about it. She promised to tell me all about her project afterwards, we hugged, and I told her I was proud of her.

I told this little story to my student, and as I was telling her, I got choked up. She was horrified that might be crying, told me, "Don't do that!" So I took a few breaths and refocused. Then she asked me why I was crying. I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue and explained to her, "So many feelings at the same time: happy, and sad, and proud. It was too much."

I decided that damage control was in order, which usually means teacher mode. I told her that special moments happen more often than we realize, but we don't notice. When we pay attention, we see that people are amazing, and that your life is better when you look out for them. 

Then I jokingly made her promise not to tell anyone, and was soon on my way home.

I found my own reaction to my story a bit puzzling. It certainly didn't hit me that hard as it was happening, nor immediately afterward. It was only as I was telling it that it had an emotional impact on me. On my way home, I had a few thoughts:

First, Maxine's days of living with us are numbered, almost certainly fewer than she has already spent living with us. I will miss her big time, even though she has spent most of the past year sealed into her room, or out studying with friends, or meeting her (second) boyfriend. She has a delightfully sarcastic sense of humor, as well as a fair streak of ridiculousness: she is the only other person our home who gets some of my jokes. These moments of connection will still happen, I'm sure, but once she has moved out there will be fewer opportunities for them.

Second, it was very touching that she wanted to include me, and felt bad at not being able to. It was like seeing myself in a mirror, hearing her say that she had not planned well enough to include me. I cannot count how many times in my life I have set out with good intentions, only to arrive at Port Disappoint Everyone.* I suppose that every parent sees their own biggest flaws embodied in their children at times. Maxine was counting down the hours until the biggest production of her life,** but she felt bad because it wasn't perfect. Her blend of caring and poor planning and sincerity and love was such a perfect reflection of myself, for such a brief moment, and I didn't even realize it until someone asked.

*I know that I also do some things right, but the times I disappoint others and myself stick out in my mind.

**Which, by the way, she knocked out of the park.

Third, I need to figure out what's going on in my heart that such a simple question can bring on such a flood of emotion. That is most definitely another post for another day. Especially considering that it took me a month to wrap this one up!