"I hope you are well!"
In the past week, I've had two really uncomfortable - and similar - situations happen to me. The first took place while waiting in line for lunch during faculty in-service meetings. Our school is pretty large and divided by divisions over two campuses. I know the co-workers at my campus very well, but those on the other campus are less familiar. Still, I recognize their names and faces fairly easily, even if we've never formally been introduced.
"Are you a new teacher this year?" one of these colleagues asked me brightly as we waited for lunch.
"...no," I finally answered tentatively.
"Oh, we must not know each other! How long have you been here now?"
"Um. This will be my tenth year."
Awkward.
This keeps happening at the meetinghouse I'm attending, too. Visitors are usually invited to stand and introduce themselves once the worship portion is completed. I've been asked to do so no fewer than five times since I began fairly regular attendance in the spring. I usually am, in fact, a new face to the person asking me to introduce myself. But 95% of the room already knows me. It feels so weird. I did it again yesterday, rising with a resigned sigh. "I'm Adrienne, and I've been attending for about six months. Hi."
I keep thinking of the lyrics to Harry Belafonte's "Turn the World Around." It's a beautiful song that we sing sometimes with our younger students. "See we one another clearly? Do I know who you are?"
In reflecting on how we make one another feel seen, I'm reminded that it doesn't take much. Eye contact and a smile. Using the person's name. A brief verbal greeting, handshake, or hug. Inquiring about some detail we recall about that person's life, however banal it seems. Hey, were you able to get your cat to the vet? How was your family trip? Are those new shoes? When we acknowledge another's physical presence in our lives, it opens the door for us to also acknowledge their spirit and divinity, the true essence of who they really are. And that feeling - of being truly seen and known - is how we can begin to offer our unique gifts to better the world.
But we have to start with simply acknowledging the body that's sharing the space with us.
I'm also mindful that it is not up to the other to advocate their presence. The responsibility is on us to see, ask, learn.
How will you honor the presence of the students in your class this year? Their families? Your colleagues?
"Are you a new teacher this year?" one of these colleagues asked me brightly as we waited for lunch.
"...no," I finally answered tentatively.
"Oh, we must not know each other! How long have you been here now?"
"Um. This will be my tenth year."
Awkward.
This keeps happening at the meetinghouse I'm attending, too. Visitors are usually invited to stand and introduce themselves once the worship portion is completed. I've been asked to do so no fewer than five times since I began fairly regular attendance in the spring. I usually am, in fact, a new face to the person asking me to introduce myself. But 95% of the room already knows me. It feels so weird. I did it again yesterday, rising with a resigned sigh. "I'm Adrienne, and I've been attending for about six months. Hi."
I keep thinking of the lyrics to Harry Belafonte's "Turn the World Around." It's a beautiful song that we sing sometimes with our younger students. "See we one another clearly? Do I know who you are?"
In reflecting on how we make one another feel seen, I'm reminded that it doesn't take much. Eye contact and a smile. Using the person's name. A brief verbal greeting, handshake, or hug. Inquiring about some detail we recall about that person's life, however banal it seems. Hey, were you able to get your cat to the vet? How was your family trip? Are those new shoes? When we acknowledge another's physical presence in our lives, it opens the door for us to also acknowledge their spirit and divinity, the true essence of who they really are. And that feeling - of being truly seen and known - is how we can begin to offer our unique gifts to better the world.
But we have to start with simply acknowledging the body that's sharing the space with us.
I'm also mindful that it is not up to the other to advocate their presence. The responsibility is on us to see, ask, learn.
How will you honor the presence of the students in your class this year? Their families? Your colleagues?
