The Good Kind of Pride

I really love this wonderful girl of mine.

At the beginning of the school year, Morgan mentioned that there was a girl in her class that was so shy she would hardly talk and would spend most of class with her head hanging down. I'm pretty sure I said " that's too bad".  A few weeks later she told me that her teacher had asked her and her friends to try to reach out to this girl and help her feel more comfortable in class. "That's nice" I said, because I'm so in tune to these kinds of teaching moments, and then promptly forgot about this girl just like everyone else. 

This is our first year at this school, so I asked Morgan about some of the friends she had told me about. " Oh, we aren't really friends anymore".  " Why?"  I remember a vague explanation about gossip and rudeness.

I praised her for distancing herself from people she knew weren't being true friends. 

Another month or so passed and I was sitting at a miniature table across from Morgan's 6th grade teacher at parent teacher conference. It was the usual " Your child is extremely intelligent, scores off the charts, so kind and helpful and if I could take her home I would!"...pretty much an actual quote from every teacher she's ever had. But then, she starts to tell me about a girl in class that struggles with social anxiety and awkwardness. She mentions how she asked three of the more popular girls in class to reach out to this girl, and that they all agreed to help. But that only Morgan was willing to sit next to her at lunch, talk to her in class and offer genuine friendship. The other two girls eventually decided Morgan was no longer cool enough for them and Morgan paid a hefty social price for doing the right thing. ( Que knot in throat...don't cry in front of her teacher... be strong!)  I beamed instead and told the teacher I thought Morgan was a good judge of character and confident enough not to care what others think of her, even people that she thought were her friends. The teacher agreed, then told me how earlier that day, this girls mother had come in to tell the teacher about the change she had noticed in her daughter. Her daughter would often come home from school crying. She had no friends, no confidence and was a very miserable 11 year old girl. But not anymore. She is happy to come to school now because she knows she has a  friend there. Morgans teacher told me how this Mom cried as she spoke and wanted to make sure that I was told about how Morgan had helped turn 6th grade around for her child, and how grateful she was to both of us. 

It was the 'both of us' part that sunk in to my gut. How much of a role have I really played in Morgan's strength of character? I mean...I was pretty clueless about this whole situation. I don't think I deserve much credit at all. 

I came home feeling proud, over flowing with it. I told Morgan about her teacher, the Mom, how her concern for a social cast off made a real difference. And I cried. It was a voice warbling, high pitched and heartfelt bawl fest in the kitchen. And Morgan cried and hugged me and said she could tell her friend was getting better too. And then Brooke ran over and asked if someone had died. 

People say sometimes our children teach us more than we teach them. And I feel it this time.  There are people with heads hung low, on the fringes. They don't fit in somehow at church at school or in general. Do I see them? Do I care enough to make a personal sacrifice to help lift them? Oh, I hope I can be more like my daughter and do what is right, let the consequence follow.

Isn't she lovely.