Tears and Teleton.

About a week ago Clare, my middle school supervisor stopped me while I was outside with a class. She asked me with her winning smile and almost conspiratorial manner if I would like to accompany the eighth grade on a field trip to the Teleton. It is a complex devoted to the rehabilitation of children who have disabilities such as multiple sclerosis, pulmonary disease and a range of other handicaps. They offer their services of diagnosis, therapy and equipment completely free to those who are enrolled and can do so through generous donations from those throughout Mexico. It reminds me a lot of Unicef, the Red Cross and the Salvation Army in the United States. I agreed to chaperone the field trip, but was uncertain about why I was asked to go and what I would come across.

For the following week, when I thought about the upcoming trip, I would question...Why was I chosen? I've never taught these students. They don't really know me. I'm not the BEST person to pick in terms of management, Spanish ability or understanding of eighth graders. Up until this morning, five minutes before the trip, I was asking myself these same questions.

When I got to the front gate this morning, I saw four girls dressed in costumes with baskets of palletas. One was dressed like Snow White, the other Little Red Riding Hood, and two others were dressed as clowns (but cute ones, not creepy at all). They were bounding with energy (which might have been fueled by the candy in their baskets) and were talking nonstop. These students I was worried about controlling were a bundle of nerves, shyness and excitement. I got a hug when it was discovered that I would be coming with them!

As we walked into the airy waiting room of the the complex I was struck by the cleanliness, the friendly demeanor of the staff, the organization (which is so often lacking here) and the warmth of the staff towards us, their visitors. We were first taken on a tour of the complex, which is a right of any citizen of Mexico, if they simply call and make an appointment. From the tone of our tour guide's voice, not many people take that opportunity. They were excited that we had come, could not wait to tell us about the positive gains their patients were making and pointed out that everyone in the building had a smile on. Which was completely true. Parents. Nurses. Volunteers. Even the kids who were in therapy! There was one little boy who was walking on a machine that moved his legs in the natural rhythm of walking, despite his lack of strength. He had the BIGGEST smile on that inspired me to smile.

We were then directed to a room that looked like a classroom, with a projector and desks in rows. I was told by my eighth grade counterparts that the desks at Teleton were much more comfortable than those at Lincoln. There we were introduced to two little boys and their mothers. The eighth grade class prior to our trip had raised money with fundraisers at Lincoln and selling various things outside of school. With that money, Teleton was able to buy a respirator for the three year old we met who has a severe pulmonary disease as well as a walker for a sweet 8 year old named Santiago. The mothers were each asked to describe their son's disability, how much time they had spent at Teleton and how our gift would transform their child's life. Soon, there wasn't a dry eye in the room as the women shared their gratitude and the students realized their impact. Two students were chosen to present the gifts and it was a once in a lifetime experience for me to see these kids who have EVERYTHING in the world at their fingertips realize how they could so easily change someone's life. We then watched a video about a boy who was born without arms and how his therapy taught him to use his feet to color, to change his clothes, to wash himself and to eat. At one moment, there is a shot of him enjoying some sticky food and he instinctively licked his toes as if they were his fingers. The room erupted in laughter and I looked over to my seatmate, a big, tough eighth grade guy who smiled at me with tears in his eyes! There were lots of sniffs throughout the room.

We then left to enjoy lunch at the cafeteria and I assumed this was the end of the heart wrenching moments. I was right, until the moment we were about to leave. As we left the cafeteria, I caught sight of a boy about sixteen years old. He reminded me a lot of the boys I was on the trip with, with a trendy haircut, skinny jeans, Gap Tshirt and cool sneakers. The only difference was that he was sitting in a wheelchair. He had a disability that didn't allow him to control his hands or his facial muscles very well, but his eyes and demeanor perked up as my students went strolling past, oblivious to the young man near the door. The girls in costumes noticed him and offered him a lollipop. He laboriously reached into the basket, chose a pop and desperately tried to look them in the eye to say thank you. They smiled at him and walked on, unaffected. In that instant I was struck with the fact that the ONLY thing that separated this sweet boy and the boys who were now in the hallway was a debilitating disease. He had the same thoughts, feelings, emotions, goals, desires. He wanted to be noticed by girls. He wanted to succeed in life, just as these eighth graders. And he had so, so, so much more to overcome! As I walked out of the cafeteria, I started to weep, then sob, then bawl. I couldn't stop crying! A huge eighth grade guy saw me and started to hug me and I went right on crying. These were tears of compassion, of desperation for the situation, of thankfulness of my own situation and frustration that the students around me couldn't realize how blessed beyond belief they are.

In the cafeteria, I realized why I was supposed to go on this trip. To remind me that I have no right to complain about what God's given me. And to push me to remind my students of the same.