Children

There is something about children that just blows me away.  Each week that I show up to teach, they  manage to make me smile and laugh, to learn to let go of my expectations (mostly so that I don't lose my mind and start going crazy).

I work with close to one-hundred kids a week, ranging in ages from K-8, in  the communities of He-Dog and Spring Creek.  Both of these areas are very traditional (meaning there is still a strong presence of the Lakota culture and tradition).  I am tasked with teaching them the Catholic faith (which I generally try my very best to do, with more or less success depending on the week).  I make it a priority to show up each week and do my best to be absolutely present, to make them laugh and smile, to let them know that for the half hour or so we meet, my attention is totally focused on them.  I class today, when I asked how many attended mass (not regularly, just ever in their life), only two raised their hands.  Later in the class when I started asking other question - such as who knows someone with a drinking problem, who knows someone who has died or been injured in a car crash, who knows people who have lost hope and say things will not get better - every head snapped to attention, everyone was interested and engaged, and nearly every child raised their hand.  The things some of these kids have seen and experienced by the age of 8 or 9 is more than I have in my nearly 22 years of life, more than many of my friends or community members.  They are like little adults in children's bodies, with the playful childlike spirit, and the old, tired, and wizened attitude of an elder who has seen and experienced much in their life.

They bring out the weirdest things in me - during any class, you are likely to find me standing in the middle of a room (25 kindergarten and first graders in tow) snapping my fingers and dancing around the room like the Pied Piper, singing "This Little Light of Mine."  Let it be know - I can't stand churchey kind of music, Christian praise music kind of my head hurt, and children's songs generally do not make my starred playlist on Spotify.

None of that crap really matters when class starts.  I'll do whatever they need me to in order to keep them occupied and engaged, and feeling loved.  Sit on the dirty floor so that everyone can see each other and be connected?  Sure.  Sing silly songs and look like a complete fool?  Done.  Show up to their first basketball game after their school day, on my off time, so they know that I deeply care about what they care about?  Absolutely.

Over dinner tonight, I was trying to describe to my housemates what it was about these kids that so captures my spirit.  What is it really about the shy and quiet girls, so adorable and young, who always raise their hand to speak, but will only do so after I have crossed the classroom and knelt down so they could speak their answer softly into my ear?  What is it about the little kindergarten boys who can't sit still for one second, who constantly move around the classroom and talk and make silly comments (reminding me of myself at that age), that gives my spirit a lift, even when it can be frustrating?

There is just something about them.  While at the basketball game today, I was watching the girls play the losing end of a close game.  They played very well, were exciting and fun to watch (they are so pint sized, the rim looks as if it stands 40 feet above them, so every made basket seems almost like divine intervention).  The thing that struck me most, though, was when one of my students, right in the middle of an inbound, stepped off the court to say hi to her baby bother or cousin, give him a kiss and make him smile - only then could she go back to the game.

I think this highlights it for me.  There is just such an innocence, such a purity of heart that children can embody  I'm not talking about sin or any of that kind of purity.  I am talking about the kind of relationship with oneself that I am striving for.  One of acceptance, one that lacks negative inhibitions and self-conscious restraint.  Every week I watch these little people pour out the utterly unique spirit that they have - they are completely themselves - and by the way they act, they know it, as if in their living they are asking the question: "And why shouldn't be utterly myself, utterly the person Creator made me to be?"

It is truly awe-inspiring.  It humbles me to be entrusted with these little nuggets, little precious beings, more valuable than anything in the world.  There is nothing so beautiful and glorious as a human being fully themselves, fully accepting of who they are, where they come from, what they are about - and each week, my kids show me exactly what that looks like.