The first time I met him was on the middle school quad. It was my turn for yard duty, and the quad was a desirable post. It’s where all the action happened and only steps from the office in case of an emergency. We were near the end of the school year, so the weather was perfect. The only downside was the kids were starting to get summer-itis, which made it harder to keep them on task.
Matthew couldn’t have been much over 4 1/2 feet tall, but even so, he was terrorizing the other students, all of whom towered over this seventh-grader. He was running through the crowd, pushing and shouting. He ignored me when I called out to him, leaving me no option but to take him by the arm and escort him to a bench—no easy feat as he was fighting me the entire way.
“You need to calm down,” I told him, in my best soothe-the-beast voice. “Sit here for five minutes and then you’re free.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.” He sneered up at me and then let loose a string of foul language emphasized with F-bombs. I was taken aback. It’s not like I hadn’t heard the words before, but students weren’t generally so brazen to cuss out a teacher.
“Now you just bought yourself a pink slip.”
Another barrage of foul language.
At the end of the day, one of my fellow teachers came up to me. “I understand you had a run-in with Matthew.”
“Oh, is he your little darling?”
She laughed. “He came in after break saying this really mean teacher gave him a pink slip. He didn’t know your name, but he described you. I told him I wasn’t buying his story, especially since you’re about the softest touch here.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. I guessed a little of both.
The next time I met Matthew was the first day back to school after summer break. He was filing into my classroom with my new students. My heart dropped. With three other eighth-grade core teachers on staff, why did I have to get stuck with him? He didn’t look all that happy to see me, either.
That was the year I learned about compassion. The year I learned not to judge people by outward appearances. It took a few weeks before Matthew and I found our groove. He was a terrible student—skating by with D-’s, and I used every trick in the book to get him to do better, all to no avail. He wore the same dark yellow shirt every day. His out-of-date bowl haircut skimmed eyes that saw more pain and heartache than most adults I knew. And he felt as if no one in the world loved him.
I heard stories from other teachers about his life up to that point, although I don’t know how much of it was actually true. Rumors have a way of growing. But I knew he’d been through more in his short life than I ever had, seen more than I ever had. At the time, he was living with a grandmother of high repute in the community. Even so, she never once attended a conference or checked in to see how Matthew was doing in my class.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected to grow so fond of Matthew. By the third quarter, he was calling me Mom. And when the school year ended, we were both in tears.
“No one will care about me like you do,” he told me, tears coursing down his chubby cheeks.
I assured him that other people would give him a chance if he’d let them. But to be honest, I wasn’t sure it was true. I was ready to dismiss him, and if God hadn’t put him in my classroom, he would have always been that “poorly raised, rude kid.”
How many individuals do we see within a day or week that we so easily dismiss because they’re “difficult.” I do it all the time, even after knowing that Matthew was who he was because of his circumstances—most of which were completely out of his control. I’ve often wondered how he turned out. The deck was certainly stacked against him, and without family support or even the drive to do well in school, I wasn’t hopeful.
My prayer is to see people the way God sees them, not the way man sees them. I fail at this all the time, but I keep praying. There are people God puts in our lives for a very specific reason. I don’t want to miss out on another “Matthew.” That year he was in my classroom was such a tremendous blessing to me. And, I pray it was for him, as well.
Do you have a “Matthew” in your life? If so, he could turn out to be your greatest joy if you allow God to work through you.
Update: Writing this post stirred within me the desire to find out what happened with Matthew, so I searched for him (and found him) on Facebook. I was pleased to find that he remembered me, too. Not surprisingly, his life hasn’t been easy, regardless, he had the wherewithal and motivation to make something of himself. He’s a college graduate and skilled welder with a beautiful wife and children. He said he took the rough path all the way to the end. I told him, no, he actually took the rough path all the way to the beginning.
Comments 4
Excellent! The impact we have on others can’t be overstated and especially a teacher has the kind of impact that can change the course of a students life just by showing love and compassion. It goes a long ways. I noticed, when we were on our Riverboat Cruise in Europe, I quickly sized up people and either dismissed them or was drawn to them and engaged with them. I found out, on one occasion, I had mis-read someone and by the end of the trip, I had really grown to like her. I confessed by critical judgment-mental ways and asked for forgiveness. Oh but to see others through the eyes of Jesus.
I love this story.You are very right when we see someone, we see only the outside, and not what could be on the inside if people would only give them a chance. I am glad you found him on Facebook and found that despite his circumstances growing up, he turned out happy and healthy. Thank you.
Oh, wow! What an impact you both had on each other!! My church has adopted a local elementary school, and our women’s group is writing notes of encouragement to the teachers. I remember so many of my teachers with fondness and respect for all they did for me and my classmates. You never know what may happen!
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You never do! I love knowing that in all things, God has a plan.