The few counseling courses I took in graduate school oh-so-long ago have served me well over the years. I sometimes compare being a writing tutor to being a bartender without the alcohol, and yesterday was one of those days. One patron lingered for so long that my quitting time came and went without notice until a full hour and a half later; sometimes I just can’t help getting involved.
Most teachers, I suspect, have “that one student” that holds a special place in their hearts. This student is distinct for any number of reasons: their crappy home life; their dogged determination to succeed in spite of the odds; their talent which is obvious to everyone but oblivious to them. My pet-project happens to fall into the last category.
When I first met her two years ago, it was plain to see that writing was not her forte. After all, she had come to the Writing Center for help. But unlike the majority of students who came in for tutoring, her composition was unique in the way it read. Or rather, how it didn’t read. It was as though her thought process was happening at lightning speed and her writing ability was pathetically stuck somewhere between first- and second-grade level.
She disliked writing so much that she always procrastinated until the last minute to start her assignments. When students want help when it’s virtually too late, I remind them that I’m a tutor, not a magician. I’m being truthful, and it seems to get the point across. At least they know to come in earlier next time.
Her verbal articulation was superb, and she spoke with such self-assuredness and with outstanding eye contact…but her written expression was miserable. And she was, too, especially since she had her heart set on becoming a counselor, a profession that requires lots and lots of note-taking, not to mention report writing.
What was so refreshing about her was her sense of style. A plus-size woman, she was so put-together she turned heads. That is not an exaggeration. One day, after an extremely frustrating attempt at completing a written assignment, I tried to lighten the mood by listing her strengths–self-confidence, verbal communication, and fashion sense–and tossed out the idea that possibly a degree in counseling might be a long shot…but did she ever consider becoming a fashion stylist?
Oh, was she mad with me! I did not see her for a couple of weeks, but when she finally returned to the Writing Center, it was not for help with an assignment. It was just to talk, much like a bar patron saddles up to a stool in the bartender’s “office” to spill his guts. She said she had been giving thought to my suggestion, and asked if I honestly thought she could be a stylist. Dressed in my typical work clothes, boring jeans and a T-shirt (albeit, spruced up with a scarf), I remarked, “Of course, you can! That is your talent!” We even discussed how working with people and their wardrobe could even be considered a form of counseling; helping people is helping people, no matter how you look at it.
Fast forward nearly two years and many “bar talks” later. One idea she talked about time and time again was to have the school’s Humanities Club put on a fashion show as a fund-raiser. She fantasized about it a lot, so much so, in fact, that she apparently had given the idea to another member of the club. That person, in turn, had presented the idea to the club’s sponsor who thought it was a marvelous suggestion and gave his blessing. My protégé was furious! She ranted and raved about how the other student had stolen her idea.
I let her vent for however long it took her to get it out of her system, and then I said, “Well, maybe this other person’s talent is organizing, and she thought that your idea was so wonderful she decided to help it along by getting the ball rolling.” I almost saw the light bulb flicker a bit at first, and then eventually glow brightly as my friend replied with newfound understanding, “She IS a good organizer, Miss Maria! I guess she got tired of me just talking about it and decided to do something to move it along.”
The fashion show is in six weeks, and my friend is in charge of assembling work-to-evening outfits for half a dozen real-life models of both sexes, some of whom are faculty and staff, and some of whom are students. ALL of whom immediately said “Yes!” when she approached them about whether or not they would consider allowing her to dress them. And when accepting her offer she received comments like, “Girl! I’ve been noticing how you dress. You are SO pulled together.” I have never seen her so happy.
I guess this only goes to show that a situation can be viewed in more than just one way, and that looking at something from another person’s perspective can change our perception dramatically. I think it also illustrates how much happier we are when we’re doing something we really love. Helping others is one of my passions; doing so, after all, did make me lose all track of time!
Each has a particular gift from God, one having one kind and another a different kind.—1 Corinthians 7:7