When the peanut gallery came center stage

Warmest and dustiest greetings from our desert classroom! I just touched down at The Merasi School a few days back and, save for the brief moment of disbelieving silence when a mouse the size of Toledo tottered arrogantly through our math class, all has been outside voices and unrestrained music-making ever since. While there have been many glorious moments that brought me to my knees, I'd like to share one with you about a little fellow named Swaroop.

Swaroop is about nine years old. He moves through space quietly and gently, with big brown eyes that sweep across the room before entering and then continue to observe and process as he adjusts into the space. I sat down with Swaroop the other day to conduct a baseline evaluation and see where he was at in terms of comfort and ability. We sat side by side on the green rug, going over abc's and 123's. When we got to the end of the baseline, I ask the question I always ask, which is, 'What do you want to be?'

Swaroop stared at me intently for a moment. The initial look in his eyes was one of total confusion. He was a boy who spent his days on the sidelines, not welcomed into the playing field and certainly never asked to take center stage. I thought, for a moment, that he wouldn't answer, but steadily, as he is with most things, Swaroop's eyes began to assert themselves and he said firmly, 'A doctor.' As I wrote it down, he said it again, quietly to himself. 'A doctor. Doctor Swaroop.'

And it was one of those rare moments when you are struck by what an amazing privilege it is to witness internal transformation on an external compass, like those beautiful brown eyes. So, amdist the raucous classes and energized music lessons, my great hope is that moments like this are quietly exploding inside students, little shifts in perspective and possibility where a child begins to see themselves as welcomed into a great whole.