Mr. Jackson. I still remember spending an entire summer dreading 4th grade. I had never had a male school teacher before, and now I was about to be a pupil of one of the most feared men on campus. He was known for being very strict, and was incredibly intimidating. I really had no idea what to expect.
Well, we didn't have to get very far into the school year before I was able to relax and realize that this year was going to be okay. It would end up being one of my favorites, in fact. Mr. Jackson was definitely strict and firm, but he was also interesting, smart--and hilarious! As long as you could behave yourself, you were in for a great year.
As I tell about this 4th grade year I'm going to share some things about myself that I'm really ashamed of. I never wanted to tell people about these things, but as I've grown older I've realized that wherever valuable lessons are learned, sometimes those lessons need to be shared.
The fact is, I had a really rotten side to me as a 9 year old. For the most part I was friendly, a little shy, got straight A's, was involved in extracurricular activities... all of that. But for whatever reason there was still a part of me that was just plain mean.
I was a great friend to most of the girls. We had our little "group"--Julie, Stacey, Katie, and me. And Jennifer. We played together every recess, we went to each other's houses for play dates, all of the normal things that good friends do.
Jennifer had been best friends with Julie for quite awhile, and that friendship was solid and improving all the time. Apparently I somehow decided this was a threat, and for whatever reason I got it in my head that Jennifer needed to find a new group. And I began to make it very clear.
I can still picture our group on the top of the jungle gym, and Jennifer coming over to join us. I assumed the role of "boss" and told everyone that we needed to move to another area of the playground--away from her. Jennifer wasn't a pushy girl, so she quickly got the hint and went away. It breaks my heart every time I think of this.
She would try during each recess to join us, and my actions were the same. I'm sure our other friends felt bad, but I don't remember whether they tried to change my mind about what I was doing. All I remember is that this went on long enough that Jennifer eventually just resorted to sitting on the side of the playground every recess and playing with no one. She gave up. And I was thrilled.
I don't know that I ever would have looked back, if intervention hadn't come. It hurts to think that I really was so mean that I could have gone on enjoying my group, never giving another thought to Jennifer's feelings; just being happy that she was leaving us alone.
But one day on the playground, as I was blissfully enjoying the time with my friends, I heard Mr. Jackson's voice calling me down from the jungle gym. My mind was racing. I couldn't think of anything I was in trouble for--I was a "good kid," always behaving myself... What could he want to talk to me about?
We both sat down on the bench. He began to talk to me about a girl who used to be a Straight A student, but was now almost failing. I was confused for a minute, since no name was given, but then I quickly figured out who he was talking about. I wanted to crawl in a hole. My teacher knew what I had been doing, and it was something so bad he had to come out to recess and find me to talk about it.
He spoke very calmly, not in a condemning way at all. He told me of conversations with Jennifer's mother; that Jennifer was going home crying every day. He told me that Jennifer and her family were in his ward, and that he knew them well and spoke with them often. He told me what a great family they were, and painted a picture of them that awakened me to the fact that I was hurting people. Real people. A whole family of them, in fact. I was stunned. My immature mind had never thought of any of these possibilities. All I had thought about was my own little selfish world where I was in charge and all of my friends went along with my plan.
I don't remember a lot of what Mr. Jackson said, but I remember how I felt. At first I felt embarrassed, then terribly ashamed. But in all that was said, I never felt condemned. And somehow, at the end of the conversation I even felt cared for. Even though Jennifer and her needs were Mr. Jackson's focus in this conversation, and I was clearly the cause of her pain, he still managed not to treat me as an evil and hurtful little girl but instead empowered me by asking that I solve this problem.
I'm still amazed at this man's wisdom, when I look back now as an adult and evaluate all the details of the situation. There are so many ways he could have handled it, but he handled it in the most perfect way possible. If he had been angry with me and yelled, or even just spoke sternly, I would have shrunk in fear and probably hated him. I would have felt resentment toward him, rather than the respect and gratitude that were intact that day and have grown immensely with time.
He could have confronted my parents and asked them to handle it, in which case I would likely have disregarded their words, knowing they wouldn't really know what happened at school each day.
He could have advised Jennifer's parents to contact mine, which likely would have caused me to exclude her even more and maybe even accuse her of being a tattle-tale, making things worse.
He could have decided that, as a busy teacher, he didn't need to take the time to observe what was happening or address it himself. He could have seen it as something for others to deal with--parents, or a playground aid.
But he didn't. He cared enough about Jennifer to take the time to think about the problem, to think through the best solution, and to find just the right words to say. And he cared enough about me to give me the tools I would need to repair the damage I had done. He had the foresight and the wisdom to see the importance of giving me the responsibility of solving the problem. And he presented it to me in a way that made me want to do so.
There are so many ways he could have approached the situation, but I believe he was inspired to handle it just the way he did. I don't think it was coincidence that he happened to live in the same ward as Jennifer, and knew her family on a personal level. And I don't think it was coincidence that years later I moved into her parents' ward as a newlywed, so that I could have the humbling, embarrassing, but incredibly valuable experience of processing all of this again with an adult perspective; and so that I could view the example of good, righteous people who never treated me with anything but love and forgiveness. I think this whole thing was a perfectly orchestrated situation, put into place years beforehand by a wise and loving Heavenly Father who knew the mistakes I would make and the potential lessons to be learned.
Well, my actions changed--and quickly. I have no memory of the details, but I know the five of us were soon spending every recess together again, getting along just fine. That's one of those magical things about children--the ability to move on quickly and not hold grudges. Jennifer was happy to join the group again, I was happy to have my mistakes forgotten, and we all picked up right where we had left off.
Mr. Jackson never treated me with any less respect. From an adult perspective, I would like to think I could do the same--but I'm not sure I could. It's incredible to me that he could care so much and so equally about both of us, when one was such a victim and one was such a perpetrator.
Mr. Jackson handled this in such a Christlike way. He wanted justice for her, but at the same time he had mercy upon me. He continued to respect me throughout the rest of the year, and never mentioned this episode again or held it against me in any way. In fact, at the end of the year he even wrote on my report card, "Jenni is a raisin among the flakes," (which he later apologized to my parents for, since it sounded like he was putting the rest of the class down). But of course it was understood that he only meant it as a creative compliment, and I look at it now as clear proof that he looked past my mistakes and somehow still valued me as if this whole ugly incident had never happened.
My understanding of the Atonement was very minimal at that time in my life. I don't remember thinking of the need to repent for this mistake, although I clearly understood the need to fix it. But over the years I gained a true and strong desire to not be a jealous person, and I always looked back at that experience as a clear time of battling strong feelings of jealousy. This experience was such a gift to me, such a perfect opportunity to begin understanding that I didn't want to be mean and hurtful to others.
While I didn't fully understand the role of the Atonement as changes took place within me over the years to come, I can look back and clearly see that it was through the power of the Atonement that I was able to gradually change my heart. Somehow, little by little, over the next decade or so of my life, I went from being one of the meanest girls on the playground to hardly even knowing how to feel jealousy. It didn't really sink in until I was dating Rob, and he teased me one day after a pretty girl had come and talked to him in front of me. He told me it would be really nice if I could at least pretend I was a little bit jealous. And I suddenly realized that my character had truly and completely changed from what I had been ten years earlier. It wasn't effortless, for sure. But, amazingly, it had been possible.
I am filled with gratitude for my Savior, when I realize how much jealousy was a part of me as a 9-year-old girl, and how much it would still be a part of me now without His incomprehensible Gift that allows me to improve. And I'm filled with gratitude for a loving, inspired school teacher who understood the Atonement enough himself to see eternal worth in a young girl whose actions were not reflecting it.
Even though I would love to be able to go back in time and redo those few months of my life the right way, I can't deny the fact that the lessons I learned have been invaluable to me. My mistakes are a poignant reminder that I have no room to judge others who too may be making mistakes they don't yet understand. It's also a reminder to me to treat others as the Children of God that they are, whether they're behaving as such or not. And it's a source of gratitude each time I think of a loving teacher who remembered that I was a Child of God, even when my actions could have made that fact easy to forget.
Mr. Jackson, wherever you are, I hope you know the impact of your kind but firm ways. I have to believe that your influence has had far-reaching effects on many lives besides my own. Thank you for your wisdom, your patience, and your Christlike love. You may have been my school teacher, but you were also teaching the gospel through your powerful example, each and every day.
12 years ago
