Stairwell Reflection

 A couple of weeks ago I was walking through the halls of my son’s school with one of his teachers.  Walking up the stairs we encountered one student sitting alone in the stairwell.  Seeing us, the student pressed up against the wall as if trying to disappear into it and before the teacher could issue a reprimand, the student said rather defensively, “I just wanted to be alone for awhile.” 

The teacher, dressing up in her authority and making damn sure the student knew who was in charge, countered, “You know you’re not supposed to be hanging out here.  When I come back this way, I expect you to be gone.” 

As we passed through the door I asked the teacher, “Do you know why the student was there?”  She looked at me as if it were none of my business, and from her perspective I could kind of see why she might have thought that. 

“It doesn’t matter why, it is against the rules,” she informed me. 

But what my son’s teacher didn’t know was that student was me twenty plus years ago, and without knowing the student I felt a sudden urge to come to the student’s defense.  “The student wanted to be alone, do you know why?” I asked.  “Is the student a trouble maker?  Is the student an outcast? Could the student have simply been seeking a temporary sanctuary?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” the teacher pressed, without bothering to look beyond her narrow perch.  “We can’t make exceptions for some students.” 

Why not?  I thought.  Different students have different needs.  If that student only wanted a few moments of peace and wasn’t hurting anyone what was the big deal.  “Sometimes circumstances require rule breaking,” I offered.  The teacher stopped and looked at me as if I had gone mad – a parent suggesting that rules were not sacred.  But I wasn’t mad. I was simply knocked off balance and tossed into my own childhood, a childhood plagued with being the outcast.  It is true that I may have simply read too much of myself in the situation but how many times had teachers walked passed me, looked through me and simply pretended I wasn’t there.  I’m not sure what is worse – a slight reprimand or being ignored.  Twenty years ago, when I first discovered the stairwell, it was as if I had stumbled into a magic portal.  In high school, during lunch or before school I would sit on the window ledge and read a book or do homework, thrilled that no one noticed me, because when I was noticed I was always taunted and teased.  But despite the hurt, despite the loneliness, I somehow survived. 

In the last two weeks, I find myself thinking back to that moment in the stairwell with my son’s teacher.  Maybe the student we saw wasn’t trying to hide from the pain of not fitting in or being different.  But it got me wondering, how many other students are there daily hiding out in school stairwells wishing they could escape the torment inflicted upon them by their fellow classmates?  If I were a teacher passing them in an empty stairwell, what words of comfort or encouragement might I offer? 

“Little Girl Looking Back”

Little girl I saw you sitting all alone,
In the stairwell frozen cold.
Your face was long
Your eyes were wet.
Oh talk to me and tell me why
You hide from those who socialize?
Please don’t look away
Or say I do not understand.
Please give me a moment
Because I think I know.
After all, I once was you
And no one ever noticed
All the angst and bitterness.
Words like knives pierced my heart,
They sliced my soul
And left me mournful-
Full of doubt.
The world was dark
And I shuttered within.
Mocked again
I should have known,
They weren’t friends
Who shattered my voice.
Yes, little girl
I know you well-
The pain etched on your face.
Jealousy defeated them,
And now they’re fighting back.
So disregard their hurtful words
And turn the other cheek.
Tomorrow you will still be standing strong,
And they’ll be shaking in your wake.
Trust me because I know,
I too have hurt like you.