This is a followup to my post about my upcoming high school reunion. If you have not read it, please click here to do so before reading further.
When
I was a child, December 25th
offered slim pickings on TV. Being that the alternative would have
involved (GASP!) not watching TV, I went with what was on. While
Rudolph and his shiny red nose never did much for me, I was a fan of
“A Christmas Carol”. Not any of the high-brow ones, mind you. The
only one for me was Mr.
Magoo's Christmas Carol. Although I haven't watched it in years,
I still remember it fondly. To me, the most powerful moment was when
the Ghost of Christmas Future came back and showed Mr. Magoo what lay
ahead of him, if he stuck with his current trajectory. There was
something about the idea of learning from your mistakes, without
actually having to live out the consequences, that really spoke to
me. Of course, there was and is no such way of doing so in real life.
My
students would ask me from time to time, why I became a teacher. I
frequently made reference to a gemara that discusses the idea that
when God was going to destroy the Beis HaMikdash, he told the angels
to save the tzaddikim (righteous) from death. The angels responded by
pointing out that the tzaddikim had failed to try and positively
influence their generation. God responded that it would not have
changed a thing. When the angels pointed out to God that while He
knew that, the tzaddikim did not, God accepts that they are not
deserving of being saved. I was not the not the most serious kid when
I was in high school. Not only did I
struggle to deal with the social chanllenges, but I also
struggled religiously. While it would have been nice to have a rebbe
who cared to help me with both, it would have been acceptable to have
one who, having gone through struggles of their own, could have
helped me figure things out a bit. While I'm fairly sure I would not
have been open to their offers of help, there was no way for them to
have known that without having tried. Among other things, like
teaching skill and ideas, I have tried to be for my students someone
who, having already been through some of what they are dealing with,
can help them navigate that challenging part of their life.
So
what does this have to do with my changing my mind about my reunion?
Quite a bit actually. When I wrote my post about the reunion, I was
hoping that what I wrote would resonate with some others, just as I
do with whatever I write. I was not prepared for the reaction.
Withing several hours, it became my most read post. I started getting
friend requests on Facebook from people I did not know. I heard from
some former-classmates who told me how much what I had written spoke
to them. Surprisingly, some classmates, who were definitely more
popular than I was, told me that they also felt similarly. Former
students wrote as well. One boy shared a poem that he wrote on the
subject when he was at Flatbush, letting me know I could share it,
but, tellingly, only anonymously. My post seemed to have touched a
nerve.
At
the same time, I got two other types of reactions. Some, suggested
various versions of “Get over it” with a few, more or less,
telling me “Get over it, loser”. It seems that some didn't
(couldn't?) empathize with the high school me, while some others saw
themselves in my “tormentors” and felt judged. Others, including
some former students, pushed back, and urged me, for various reasons,
to reconsider. They succeeded in getting me to rethink my decision.
While
the thoughts from my family and friends meant a lot and certainly
helped, it was the comments from my students which ultimately
persuaded me to attend. They seemed to be urging me to respond to
this situation with the balance and sensitivity I had tried to model
in the classroom. In other words, they were asking me to recognize
that this was a teachable moment.
First,
I recognized that how I would deal with the reunion would be a
message to my students (and children) about how to deal with their
own high school “tormentors” and demons. I could be the ghost
from the future who could show them how to avoid, or at least,
partially avoid, 25 years of pain.
Then
I thought about the fact that it was not just them that needed to
hear this message. I did. I
realized it was time to deal with my own discomfort in a productive
way. I plan to attend the reunion and see my friends. I'm also hoping
to speak with the person who, for whatever reasons, real or
subjective, more than anyone else, represents to me the pain that I
went through. Not, God forbid, to say something harsh, embarrass
them, or get even. Just to speak. As former classmates. As equals. I
don't know how they will react, or even whether they will want to
talk, but I do know that I will try.
It will take courage to go over to a person to whom I granted way too much power back then and in the subsequent years as well. It's time to speak and to turn them from a monster into a person.
Post by Pesach Sommer.
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