Looking outside of ourselves

G-d exposure therapy.

Today is the elementary school's annual Hike Through History. It's 86 degrees outside, and there's little shade in the bucolic setting where the children walk from station to station, learning about life in the past. My third grader is teaching apple grafting while wearing my old sundress. I biked down to the town's historic landmark to participate for a couple of hours.

B was delighted to see me and seemed to be doing well with her class. When I found C, he looked like a popsicle left out on the sidewalk. I watched the shift of emotions pass across his face when he recognized me. He had been holding it together, coloring as the seventh graders taught his class about photography as it existed 100 years ago, but the view of Mama released something. For a good hour he wailed and refused to walk. He begged me to take him home. He complained about a hurt leg. He said I didn't love him. He half-heartedly tried to hit me on the arm. His aide and I sat with him and tried to maneuver him into the shade. We plied him with juice. I explained that I couldn't take him home because (a) I biked there and (b) I had a meeting to attend around lunchtime.

The thing that finally did the trick (the juice probably helped too) was when I pointed out a fellow classmate who was also having a hard time. The other little boy was crying because his mother had to leave. Another shift, a changing mood passing over C's face. He got up and went over to comfort his classmate.

I saw my moment. I asked him if he could help his friend. I reminded him I had to leave. And then I watched him limp off, between the principal and the aide, to his class's next station. He was reluctant, but he did it.

It's heart-wrenching to watch your child meltdown. I question the wisdom of having kindergarteners out in the blazing heat for 4.5 hours, regardless of how many snack and water breaks you give them, but I'm not in charge. And, the most important part is that C made it through. He took a break and recovered enough to rejoin the group. We sat with his hard feelings, we tried to address the physical discomfort, and I pointed out someone else's struggles. Compassion is one of his strengths, and he thrives on social connection, so it gave him the stamina and the jolt to shift out of his own misery.