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I want to tell you a story about a high school teacher and girl named Amber.
This story is important because it points out that when you find the courage and creativity to do something just a little bit different, and you take the time to truly connect, you can create small wonders.
And…This does not take any special talent.
Amber was a student at a special school for kids with emotional problems. She was in this teacher’s classroom for four hours per day. Amber was of normal intelligence, but she was sent to that school for one reason:
She refused to talk at school. EVER.
Refusing to talk appeared to be one of the many layers of protection Amber used to shield herself from everyone. Another was a heavy coat that she always wore, every day, even on warm spring days.
Her doctors called her condition "selective mutism,” something her previous teachers tried to solve with a “full court press" that got them nowhere.
From Day 1, the teacher got lots of advice, usually something along the lines of, “You just need to get tough with that girl. You need to make her talk.” All the typical advice amounted to: How can we “push" Amber into talking?
The teacher took a different approach. First, he decided on what NOT to do:
… He did not try to psychoanalyze Amber. (There were plenty of medical doctors around to do that already.)
… He did not frown with disapproval over her silence. (That obviously hadn't been working either.)
… He decided not to make her feel different for not talking.
So what did he do?
For starters, he simply decided to accept her where she was.
He didn’t adopt this approach as any sort of "agenda" or "strategy.” He wasn't just being nice to her so that I could later corner her into a heart-to-heart talk about the silence.
He simply treated her nicely, with respect, like she was any other student.
It would have been nice if this worked overnight, but trust is sort of like Rome: You can't build it in a day. It took a long time for Amber to see that the teacher’s sincerity was for real, that he wasn’t going to engage her in an emotional tug-of-war.
The teacher noticed that Amber had great hand-eye coordination. She could excel at games like badminton and volleyball.
So he took the girl out to the playground, and the two began slamming a tennis ball back and forth. They were quite a sight that day: a teacher in a polo shirt and dress pants batting around a tennis ball with a tall, serious-looking girl in a heavy overcoat.
There was no net. Neither of them talked.
The teacher made sure they stood far enough apart so that she wouldn’t feel any pressure to talk. They simply volleyed the ball until one hit it over the other's head … and then commenced whacking all over again.
They did this together for about a month. They developed their own communication system. When Amber wanted the teacher to hit the ball, she would frown and touch her racket to the ground. When she'd had enough and wanted to stop, she would just whack the ball so hard that it would sail into the neighbor's yard across the street.
After a couple months, a student who rode Amber's school bus brought a weapon to school. And that morning before first period, Amber marched right up to the teacher and let 12 words fly out of her mouth and into his memory forever.
"Aaron has a gun," she said. "He showed it to me on the bus."
All the teacher could think was: "Amber, not a bad time to start talking!"
The teacher's mind was spinning with the news flash, and his heart was pounding with the miracle of Amber's new-found voice, but all he said was, "Thanks Amber, I'll take care of it," as if hearing her voice was the most ordinary thing in the world.
As the year wound down, Amber started participating in a girls' group and the group leader told the teacher that Amber talked in the group a lot.
And the teacher and Amber still went out there and whacked those tennis balls every day.
But the teacher feels that his decision to respect Amber and give her "her space" had something to do with her breakthrough that year. Amber graduated high school and moved on to give, quite literally, full voice to her future.
There are no timetables on what you want to do.
Decide what you want to do.
And, start where YOU are.
You don’t have to be at anyone else’s skill level, speed, or ability.
You simply have to start.
Failures and frustrations will occur. That’s just part of the deal.
If you have goals I might be able to help with, I will help you start where you are.
There is nothing you have to prove to me or anyone else.
You just need to show up and get started.
Simple. But not easy.
But you’re not in it alone.
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