Last Friday, First Son’s class were scheduled to perform at the schools Chinese New Year concert. He spent the time with his classmates, learning the song lyrics and the moves, but when it came time to line up, he burst into tears and stuck with me. He said he both wanted to be in the show and he also didn’t. I can absolutely understand that, and I push him sometimes and not others (he’s a somewhat tentative fellow). I told him, “Look, dude, I know you. You’re scared now, but when we go home, you are going to have regret. When your friends are on stage, you will suffer FOMO [he did not know what i was talking about]. Let’s just go backstage and see what it’s like. No need to decide now”. We went backstage where the other kids were cheerfully putting on red headbands, and I explained the situation to the teacher who was terrific. She hugged him, asked him if he could help out this other kid who was out all week. Once he nodded, she shooed me away, and he was in the show. He’s not a natural performer or anything but he was on stage without throwing up or weeping, performing the same steps as his peers. I was very pleased. I would like him to have experiences where he overcomes nerves, experiences being brave, so that it’s less daunting the next time to situation calls for him to step out of his comfort zone, so I thanked the teacher.
She said, “I always want to ensure all the children feel confident that they can and should try new things!” It occurred to me that she felt love for all her students. I was very moved that for some reason and was reminded of the teachers in the Sandy Hook tragedy who tried to shield their students. That, I thought, is true bodhisattva. Teachers love their students, people who are not even their flesh and blood. I have enjoyed the love of many teachers, so I have no idea why I have never noticed this quality before.