I’m currently sitting in a hammock at the end of a month in Belize, trying once again to process my most impactful moment in India. I have Philip Glass’ mesmerizing sounds blaring through my headphones, meaning that I’ve pulled out ALLLL the stops to try and finally get this story out of my head and into the world….
In Bangalore, India there is a 10th grade boy named Abishek. He’s a tall, lanky kid who does a killer rendition of “Despacito” and maybe wants to join the military someday. He is a class clown, a class bully, and a class-A pain in the butt. And for some reason he both got under my skin and into my heart.
On our last day of teaching 10th grade English, my co-teacher Jon and I wanted to do something fun for class. We popped popcorn, watched the newest Avengers movie, and ended with a dance party. And of course, throughout the entire movie, Abishek threw popcorn at the girls sitting across from him, potentially flirting while causing a ruckus. Then during our dance party his choice “dance” was to kick anyone within a five foot radius of his spastic, spindly legs. One of the girls he began to kick was feeling sick that day, which pushed me over the edge with his antics.
So I started on a tirade about respecting women, and ended, using a relatively louder voice than when I’d begun, with a tangent on the value of a human being. Real smooth, I know.
And then the bell rang. Class was over.
I felt shame wash over me immediately, like how I picture Peter when he hears that third rooster crow. I’d just yelled at one of my students in my very last few minutes with them. I knew my heart had been in the right place, but my timing and execution felt very skewed. Especially when Abishek started crying and ran out of the room.
I grabbed Jon’s arm and begged him to talk to Abishek, to explain my heart, to end on a good note for the both of us. Jon, in his pure-hearted magical goodness, went to fetch that troublemaker boy.
I hugged my other students’ necks and cried, breaking a bit inside to see them crying along with me. Goodbyes on the Race are always hard, but my Indian goodbyes were especially brutal. I then retreated to sit and stare at a wall in solitude until I could see how much damage I’d done to poor Abishek’s soul. Yes, I was very much in the victim circle.
Jon came in and I practically attacked him with questions. How was he? What did he say? Did I crush his feelings? Would he forgive me?
Jon held up his hand to stop me and said, “He wasn’t even crying about what you said. He’s crying because he’s going to miss us.”
My eyes welled up with gratitude and guilt and grace. I couldn’t believe after all of that, all my stress about his feelings and what he’d think of me, he was sad because we were leaving.
Class had ended only a few minutes earlier, so I ran outside to try and catch him before he left for good. And as I was running out the door, I ran right into Abishek. Like, literally crashed into his body to where the candy he was holding spilled out of his hands.
He picked up the candy and handed it to me.
“I went and bought these for you.”
I can honestly say that I have never felt so undeserving to be given something, big or small. I looked at the candy in my hand for a moment, and then looked up to Abishek’s eyes. And he was crying. So, naturally, I burst into tears too.
Sweet, sweet Abishek, the untamable, forgiving boy who gave me grace in the form of little candies.
amen and amen.
