Yesterday I experienced an unexpected and delightfully tender moment with my class of 8th grade boys. Typically, Friday afternoon with a group of boys eager to get to the weekend is like herding cats while trying to woo them into paying attention and loving history! Here’s what happened yesterday…
At the beginning of class, I asked if anyone had a Joshua Tree permission slip for our trip later this fall. That led to a brief explanation that while I’m going as a chaperone, others would be coming too because I can’t scramble on the rocks due to ongoing vision loss in my left eye. (If you’re wondering, I still have total loss of vision in my left eye from surgery on July 5th. Which really deserves an entire post of its own, so I’ll work on that)!
I said, “Yeah, you need both eyes for depth perception, so that wouldn’t be very safe.”
Suddenly one of the boys, exclaimed “Mrs. Bonilla, try to put your two index fingers together in front of you like this,” as he demonstrated.
I followed his example (which now that I think about it is basically the sobriety test motion!) and my right finger overlapped my left instead of meeting at each of the tips. The boys all kind of gasped. I said, “Did you see that? Yeah, it’s hard to gauge depth with only one eye.”
The same student who asked me to try this test, called out “Everyone! Close one eye and try to do it!” They all obeyed his command (this kid has a lot of charisma!) and each one had the same experience of one finger being further in front and overlapping as they tried to put their fingertips together.
“Whoa!” they exclaimed as they looked at me with surprise and understanding.
“Wow, guys, I feel so seen!” I replied.
We then moved on to start our class, but this moment has stuck with me ever since. I meant exactly what I said – I felt seen. I felt understood and their attempt to relate to my experience meant so much to me. Since I’ve been dealing with this challenge all school year, I talk about it seldomly because it’s a downer and honestly, I do better when I just focus on the moment while teaching in the classroom rather than thinking about my vision.
But it has been hard and at times distracting. I feel vulnerable a lot of the time, especially when I’m unable to do something I want to do like drive for a field trip or play House volleyball! Experiencing their compassion and acknowledgement that I’m dealing with a challenging circumstance meant the world to me.