I had this post - about patience and gifts - all ready to write. I had been planning it in my head all week long. It was a real stick-it-to-the-man post. I was ready for the world to have a little talking to about patience, teaching special education, and annoying people at the grocery store.
And then I had breakfast with Sam. My dear, sweet, wonderful friend Sam. Have you started reading her blog yet? I talk about Sam almost as much as I talk about Shauna Niequist, and let's be honest, by now you should be fond of both. The real reason I bring her up so much and want you to love her as much as I do is because whenever we hang out, I do a lot of thinking. The good, soulful kind of thinking. Do you have someone like that in your life? Someone who makes you think and question and wonder and explore? Sam is one of those people for me, and I hope that you're fighting for friendship like that in your life.
This morning, over stuffed french toast and scones, we ended up talking a bit about my student teaching experience. I don't feel comfortable writing too many details on here - just for the safety and privacy and respect of my students (not to mention, that's probably illegal). But, you should know that the students in my classroom are considered to have more moderate cognitive disabilities and multiple disabilities. We spend a lot of our days working on functional skills or life skills - washing hands, social skills, school skills, morning greetings, name and letter recognition, cooking, weather, counting, knowing the months, etc. When I told Sam about my days, about how I spend time helping students recognize their name or learn how to say hello or how to open their milk carton, she responded with a gaping jaw and gasp and some comment to the effect of, "Wow! The patience that must take ... "
This is not the first time I've gotten a comment like that. It's not uncommon that when I tell people I'm studying special education I get told about how much patience I must have. "Oh, you must be so patient, I could never do that." Or, "Oh, you must be a saint." What about, "Good, we need patient people going into education." Or my personal favorite, "You must be like Mother Theresa or something." Sorry to report, but I am not Mother Theresa. Are you disappointed? Yeah, me too.
After Sam's comment about patience and the fact that this post was stewing in my head anyway, I almost lost it. I began telling her that no, no, no ... I am not a patient person. Have you ever been next to me in line at the grocery store? No patience. Have you ever been late to meet me somewhere? No patience. Are you constantly running on the ten-minutes-behind time clock of Heather Gibbs? No patience. Although I love my parents and credit them for many of the good qualities I possess, I detest the fact that somewhere along the line ... I didn't get a good lesson in how to be patient with the vast majority of the world, at least as it relates to planning, being on time, and waiting. I would actually be the first person to tell you I am quite impatient. Not to mention, just because I have patience for people with disabilities doesn't mean a thing. There are lots of people who have the ability to be patient all the time. And lots of people who are good at other things that I could never do. I could never be an engineer. And I could never work in a hospital. And what the heck makes my job so special anyway? And most importantly, I'M ACTUALLY NOT PATIENT.
I was about to get there in my rant when Sam stopped me mid-sentence and said, "No, that's your gift, Erin. You need to own it." I stopped for a moment and thought about it, and she's right. I may be, and quite possibly am, an impatient person. At least with most of the world. I do, however, have a specific ability and a specific type of patience that works for a certain population. I have a gift that not many other people have. I have the ability to, day in and day out, open milk cartons and spoons and teach my students how to use them. I have the patience to give hand-over-hand assistance to help my students use a glue stick or write their name. I have the patience to ask and re-ask and redirect and remind students all day long to keep their hands to themselves. I have the patience to teach. And gosh, do I love teaching.
This is not, by any means, a post meant to toot my own horn or boast about how awesomely patient I am. Because I'm not. I'm just a normal person trying to use my gifts to infuse the world with a little bit more sunshine. I have a gift, a very precious and sweet gift of patience for people with disabilities. Put me in a special education classroom and that patience will flourish. Put me in line at the grocery store or in the same room as Heather when we're running late, and not so much.
My point of this long ramble is this: I have a gift that is unique to me, and so do you. I may have a gift and an ability to teach special education, but you, my dear friend and loyal reader, have an entirely different gift. Maybe you love engineering. I don't even know what engineers do. Maybe you're passionate about philosophy, which I slept through my freshmen year of college. Maybe you're studying to be a doctor or a nurse or a pharmacist. Thanks for not being scared of needles or death, because I am. Maybe you work in business or finance. I'm glad you know how the economy works, because that information goes right over my head. Do you get my point? You may be floored by my supposed patience because I work in special education, but I am blown away by your gifts and your talents, too.
We all have different gifts, unique to us. How amazing is that? How boring would the world be if we were all good at the same thing? Thankfully, we're not. There are as many interests and jobs and career paths and gifts and aptitudes and talents as there are people in the world, and for that I am so thankful. Please, own your gift. Own it with confidence and sparkle and healthy pride. Recognize the ways that you are gifted and talented, and see the gifts and talents of others. And please, please, please do everything in your power to use that gift to make the world a little bit brighter. Because the world needs a little sunshine these days.
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