This week has been vaguely terrible, and it's caused a great deal of pain and doubt in my heart. I hate that.
But this morning, oh this morning... At the start of 1st period, one of my favorite students asked to go to the orchestra room. I let him go, and he came defiantly marching back with his violin. He announced that another student had told him that "string" music was no good, and he was determined to prove her wrong. He asked me if he could play for the class. Loving his conviction, I surrendered the floor to him.
So before the tardy bell even rang, that 12 year-old football player stood in front of my classroom, underneath the flag, and he played. He played for his classmates, for the teachers in the hall, and even for an assistant principal I hauled in. And I stood in the doorway and cried at how beautiful his passion for music is. His entire class was in awe. Let me tell you, it's hard to strike a room full of 7th graders silent. That was pretty beautiful too. It's been a while since I have felt such pride in one of my Mustangs.
My school has taken a lot of heat lately, and we are facing challenges that overwhelm us on a daily basis. There are children in my school who don't want to do the right thing. There are children who don't know how to do the right thing. There are teachers struggling to help those kids find the right path, so much so that sometimes we ignore those who are already upon it. And we miss such beauty amid the chaos. That causes a great deal of pain and doubt in my heart, too.
When he was done, I'm not sure he had changed that little girl's mind about string music, but he had rescued my whole day. And that, my friends, is the power of a 12 year-old heart.