Lessons from the Playground

One of the greatest institutions of education is the playground. Many things learned on the playground, some not go good, can linger for years. Scars often run deep, and hurts can resurface at just a sight or sound. Great friendships are formed on the playground as well, and in later years memories are brought to light that bring a smile and smug satisfaction.

When the recess bell rang, kids scattered, gathering into groups. I learned early on in years that I didn’t quite fit in. When teams were chosen to vie against one another, I was not selected first or even second. No, the end of the list was my territory.  I was usually the smallest, or at least one of them. It irritated me because I knew I had something to offer but wasn’t often even given the chance, well, except by the principal’s son. He lived for the chance that he might catch me and get a kiss, but I managed to escape when I climbed on top of the monkey bars which he couldn’t maneuver too well. 

I have always been one who observes others, and even as a youngster, I found myself delving into the depths to determine what was in the hidden recesses of those with an apparent innate desire to draw attention to themselves. When I remember those who flaunted their strength, I recognize it was just a front for weakness and insecurities. Overbearing boys and girls alike bragged of their popularity and boasted of what they could do for the others who came to their “side.” Some of their peers’ loyalties were rewarded with bubble gum or undeliverable promises. That resulted in short-lived relationships.

The greatest achievers on the playground stage were those who led by example. They were the ones who encouraged the seemingly weaker kids, those who wanted no recognition for themselves but came to the aid of one who was mocked, dirty, or “different.” Yes, those were the heroes in my eyes. They were few.

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When my daughter was young, during a parent/teacher conference, her teacher sang her praises. Other students made fun of a girl in their class, but not my daughter! When she finished her work, she asked permission to help the girl who had trouble with her work. The teacher said my daughter made all the difference in the world when she befriended the girl. Not only did the student begin to excel in her studies, but her demeanor changed as she finally felt accepted by someone. Years later, one of the other students told me how all of those in the class admired my daughter. She was not loud, opinionated, mean or intimidated. They remembered her act of bold kindness that spoke louder volumes than all the mockery voiced by many.

Strength is not in a fist that can crush a fragile flower or a tongue that can slash one’s hopes. Rather, it is found in a fragile flower that can soften a hard heart or a kind word that can change one’s world.