“Here, Baby, let me hold your hand,” the teacher said as she gently cradled the little hand and wrist of the first grader. All the students gather round, eager to do something to help. “I saw what happened,” says one. “I did to,” says another amid the calls of others. Although sympathetic, each wanted to get in on the action.
With tears in his eyes but making no crying sounds, the hurt child tried to tell his story. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he says defensively, more concerned with a lecture or other discipline that might be coming, than he was with his wrist.
How sweet and tender the teacher. Sometimes they might not seem that way, but the heart of a mother is quickly revealed when her child, her student, was hurt. How precious the children who wanted to do something to help, even if the extent of their help might be to tell what happened. How noble the child as he held back the pain. But why would he need to be defensive? Why didn’t he cry?