I've never been a person who needs money or a prize at the end of the day. I remember in HS, I was a pretty good athlete, but I didn't play school sports, because my brief time doing so showed me two things. It's not about having fun and it's honestly never about you. It's about a coach, most likely a lesser athlete than you are, living vicariously through you, but only wanting a W. It was never for me.
As I got older, sure I loved getting a paycheck, but there was always something about recognition that mattered more to me. When I did roofing and my boss felt comfortable enough to leave me alone, or even in charge, it made me feel good. When I worked with kids at a sleep away camp, the director pulled me aside one night and said "you know the kids like you." I nodded. He then said, "they like all their counselors, but you they like for all the right reasons and so do I." It confirmed that I knew what I was doing and I was good at it. No money can be placed on that.
The week in the hospital, I found myself apologizing to the air for missing my classes. I missed the kids also because they mean so much to me. That hour each week means a lot to me and when I see them smile, achieve or make it over a personal hurdle, it gives me pride. The pride usually reserved for parents. Summers not working with kids is tough for me. My summers working with them were my happiest. I was lucky enough to do it for nine summers in a row.
On Tuesday, my first class in almost two weeks ended. During the course of the hour most of the kids found their way over to me. They all needed a little confirmation that I was OK. This was so sweet, as kids can sometimes not realize the severity of anything. This group in particular seemed to get it. What shocked me even more, was the parents reaction. Parents who had never had a conversation with me, simply explaining pleasantries during the pick-up process. These parents came over, some with a gentle hand on my arm, seeking proof of my wellness. One, when learning I had left the hospital roughly 24 hours earlier, praised my health, while questioning my sanity.
All of these words meant a lot to me, but today meant mountains. I got to the school about 15 minutes early and was setting up for a tennis class. Two girls had arrived early and were talking in the corner. The gym doors opened and in walked two boys, one eighth grader and one tenth. I asked them what they were doing in the gym. The oldest explained that his brother was in his club and his part was over so they figured they'd say hello to me and hang out. This might sound odd, but these 13 and 15 year olds were former class members. One I had as a kindergartner 8 years ago, the other 10. Both were in my classes until at least second grade. So it's been at least five years since they were in my classes, but the memories of the class was lasting enough they wanted to spend time. Even mentioning their old tennis lessons.
Today, two teens, an age group which rarely shows moments of sentiment, came to hang out, if even for ten minutes. Is there any price worth trading that in? Today, for a handful of minutes, I was a millionaire. Thanks Ross. Thanks Ryan!
As I got older, sure I loved getting a paycheck, but there was always something about recognition that mattered more to me. When I did roofing and my boss felt comfortable enough to leave me alone, or even in charge, it made me feel good. When I worked with kids at a sleep away camp, the director pulled me aside one night and said "you know the kids like you." I nodded. He then said, "they like all their counselors, but you they like for all the right reasons and so do I." It confirmed that I knew what I was doing and I was good at it. No money can be placed on that.
The week in the hospital, I found myself apologizing to the air for missing my classes. I missed the kids also because they mean so much to me. That hour each week means a lot to me and when I see them smile, achieve or make it over a personal hurdle, it gives me pride. The pride usually reserved for parents. Summers not working with kids is tough for me. My summers working with them were my happiest. I was lucky enough to do it for nine summers in a row.
On Tuesday, my first class in almost two weeks ended. During the course of the hour most of the kids found their way over to me. They all needed a little confirmation that I was OK. This was so sweet, as kids can sometimes not realize the severity of anything. This group in particular seemed to get it. What shocked me even more, was the parents reaction. Parents who had never had a conversation with me, simply explaining pleasantries during the pick-up process. These parents came over, some with a gentle hand on my arm, seeking proof of my wellness. One, when learning I had left the hospital roughly 24 hours earlier, praised my health, while questioning my sanity.
All of these words meant a lot to me, but today meant mountains. I got to the school about 15 minutes early and was setting up for a tennis class. Two girls had arrived early and were talking in the corner. The gym doors opened and in walked two boys, one eighth grader and one tenth. I asked them what they were doing in the gym. The oldest explained that his brother was in his club and his part was over so they figured they'd say hello to me and hang out. This might sound odd, but these 13 and 15 year olds were former class members. One I had as a kindergartner 8 years ago, the other 10. Both were in my classes until at least second grade. So it's been at least five years since they were in my classes, but the memories of the class was lasting enough they wanted to spend time. Even mentioning their old tennis lessons.
Today, two teens, an age group which rarely shows moments of sentiment, came to hang out, if even for ten minutes. Is there any price worth trading that in? Today, for a handful of minutes, I was a millionaire. Thanks Ross. Thanks Ryan!
Comments
Post a Comment