By Melony Pugh-Weber
Reprinted from the Touchstone Support Team Letter, October 2004.
Andrew hugged me today. Yes, that’s right, Andrew hugged me. The kid who’s name I didn’t even know this time last year.
It was only this past spring that I even knew who he was. I was sitting with his friend. She told me that she had been his girlfriend ‘till recently, but they weren’t “talking” anymore as their saying goes. She pointed out Andrew, tall, cute, awkward, messing around with the guys, hoping to be seen as cool. He and some other freshmen guys were talking loudly, playfully, carelessly shoving each other around.
I heard the glass shatter before I knew what caused it. Andrew’s elbow went right through the window where the guys were standing. I jumped up and moved toward him. But just as quickly, he ran. As he got to the cafeteria door, my instinct that he could be hurt caught up with his instinct that he could be in trouble. Fully expecting to see blood, I held him by the arm and asked if he were OK. How would he know? He was too afraid to look.
I stood there looking up at six feet two inches, big brown eyes soft and scared, scared that he was bleeding and in big trouble. Glass shards were shattered on the floor near where he and his friends had been standing. He went one way. His friends went the other. No one waits around when someone messes up, when something goes wrong, when someone needs help.
“It was an accident,” I said. “I saw everything.” He didn’t mean to break the window. But he did need to tell Mr. Bradford what happened. Mr. Bradford is the assistant principal who could suspend Andrew for destruction of school property. Before his fear could stiffen into resistance, I guided Andrew toward Mr. Bradford. Andrew told how he just swung his arm around. He must have been standing too close to the window. He was very sorry. I attested to Andrew’s account.
Mr. Bradford said maintenance was coming to fix it and to be more careful next time. This time, there was no blood, no trouble. Andrew did the right thing. The thing is Andrew didn’t know he could. For some reason I did.
Andrew smiled at me and said thanks before turning away to go find his friends – the friends who scattered instead of waiting to check for blood. No trouble this time. But there will be a next time – more broken glass, another chance to do the right thing.
During our CiViL Groups at Stratford High School, we talk about doing the right thing. But often that conversation doesn’t happen officially in a group. Instead, it takes place where life happens – the lunchroom, the lobby, the hall. That’s where teachable moments occur. That’s where we want to be.