Corey Forgives His Past And Finds His Potential

As I was getting the DVR set up to show a movie to my first period 8th grade English class, I turned around quickly to scan for any potential chaos that may be brewing in the back of the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar yet changed face. For a few seconds, I just stared at him, but then he walked forward with his unmistakably charming strut, and I immediately hurried over to Corey, giving him a huge hug. With the girls blushing and giggling and the boys gawking at Corey's six foot frame, I returned my attention momentarily to my students, quieting them and introducing the movie - The Diary of Anne Frank - based on the play adaptation we had just read.

~  Corey -a familiar yet changed face ~

With my students engaged in the film, Corey and I entered the inner hallway of the English building, where I could keep an eye on them through the glass windows. Grabbing a couple of chairs and making ourselves comfortable, my mind went back to four years earlier when I taught Corey in my 8th grade English literature class. Corey was a complex young boy, filled with bitterness over a divorce, an absent father, and a life with a step-dad he did not want. Although Corey remained distant and detached from others, as well as frequently quite defiant, Corey craved attention - wanting someone to care about him - and most often sought to fill that need with destructive self-defeating behaviors.

                                                                                                                                         

~ Corey is filled with rage ~

While attempting to redirect his negative energies, I worked hard with Corey, nurturing and supporting his academic abilities and encouraging him in his athletic pursuits. However, my challenges with him were many, especially his explosive temper.  Many times, Corey would become so filled with rage that I gave him unspoken permission to leave our classroom whenever necessary, releasing his pent up anger by hitting his fists against the stucco wall outside our door or running out on to the large field next to our classroom sprinting mindlessly around the empty bases. Other times, Corey would stay after class or come by after school where he would sit with his head buried in his hands nervously running his fingers through his crumpled blondish hair, attempting to calm himself and quiet his mind. My words of comfort to Corey seemed mostly inadequate and inconsequential.

When Corey graduated from middle school and moved on to high school, we stayed in touch. He would drop my classroom every now and then to  "check in". Sometimes the visits brought good news: school was going well, he was getting along better with his step-dad, and his friends were cool and fun. Other times, Corey's visits revealed a series of set-backs with severe consequences: dropping out of school, messing around with drugs and hanging out with friends who were not really friends, and experiencing a resurgence of hatred toward his family causing division and grief for everyone involved.

As Corey and I sat facing each other, I recalled the last time I had seen him - just a year ago.  I remembered that although his life was not totally falling apart, it didn't seem to have much direction in it either. Therefore, I was anxious as he began to speak to me about what was going on. With a smile on his face, Corey described how he was attending our district continuation high school, maintaining a 4.0  and acquiring the necessary units for graduation. He was working as a life-guard at a large resort and practicing his beloved baseball with a well-known local coach. Corey took in a deep breath, displaying a sense of peace and pride I had never witnessed in him before. I waited as he spoke. "Mrs. Kenley, I have been accepted to California State University at Long Beach - well, a provisional acceptance until I finish all  my units - and I have an offer to play in a summer training camp for the Expos!!"

~ Corey forgives his past ~

Tears filled my eyes, as did Corey's.  For a moment I was unable to speak.  And then, I kept repeating, "I'm so proud of you....I'm so incredibly proud of you...." Leaning in, I gave him another hug, and this time he returned it fully. After composing ourselves, I sat back in my chair studying Corey as he pulled out an old yearbook from his back-pack. I chuckled to myself as I recognized the middle school yearbook from years past - Corey's graduating class. Unsure as to what was happening, I sat quietly. Fingering through the pages, Corey stopped at one and then looked up at me. His voice quivered a little, then regained its strength.



"Last year, I was ready to give up. I felt like such a loser....my life was messed up....I mean, I messed it up. And I hurt a lot of people, including myself." Corey cleared his throat. "One night while sitting alone in my room and feeling sorry for myself, I took out my 8th grade yearbook.  I started reading through it and I came to the message you wrote me.  I read it over and over....and for the first time in a long long time, I knew what I needed to do. And...I felt there was a chance for me...."  I sat in silence, Corey began reading the passage.

Corey, as you leave middle school and enter high school, you will have many choices and challenges ahead of you. I am confident that you can accomplish anything you put your mind to - you have all the ability and talent right within you. However, as long as hold onto your anger - it will hold you back. It's like a swimming in a pool of rage and resentment - and until you choose to get out of it, you will continue to drown in it. Let it go, Corey.  Forgive your dad, step - dad and whoever else  or whatever has hurt you. Do it now....forgive the past and let go of the pain... And when you do, get ready...because then you will be able to find and fulfill your potential.
~ Mrs. Kenley 

Corey looked up at me. My eyes stung with hot tears. "Mrs. Kenley, I did what you said.  I let it go - all that anger - I let it go.  It took some time....I mean...I had to forgive some people over and over again, but over time, I started feeling better." I nodded with understanding.  "And...I had to forgive myself too....for all the stuff I did...that was really hard.  But, I did it...."  And then Corey's eyes lit up, "And as I let go of my anger, just like you said.....I started to see things differently....I started to see myself differently...and I began to feel like a different person." In awe and amazement, I waited for his final words,"Once I emptied out all that anger, I felt free....It's hard to explain but now things matter to me again.... I matter... And, I'm excited about working hard and accomplishing my goals...I want to make something of myself...and my life." Placing the yearbook in his backpack, Corey looked up and smiled, "I am on my way, Mrs. Kenley."

Standing to say our goodbyes, I added, "Yes, Corey, indeed you are."

~ Corey finds his potential ~

Over the years, both as a teacher and as a therapist, I worked with so many young people who were bitter, angry, and resentful over the injuries and injustices of their pasts. If they needed guidance or help, I recommended safe resources when possible or appropriate. And without  minimizing their pain, I encouraged them time and time again to let go of it- to release it - to forgive it.

Remember this - as long as we hold on to our betrayals (with their accompanying emotional burdens and behavioral consequences), we remain hostage to our betrayers. We are not free - we give our power over to them. However, when we forgive our pasts - when we let the pain go - we release ourselves from its bondage, and we begin the process of righting and reclaiming ourselves. Most importantly, we discover who and what we are capable of being and becoming.

It is a choice.  And it is yours for the making. 

 Forgive your past and fulfill your potential.

You matter...and You are worth it!

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Violet Fights For Her Worth and Finds Her Voice

On a scorching hot September morning in a worn-out desert town of Southern California, I stepped out of my air conditioned car and hurried down the long dusty hallway to my classroom. For over a week, I - along with dozens of other frenzied middle school teachers - were preparing our classrooms and curriculum for another group of high energy, extremely awkward, and lovingly complicated adolescents. Reaching my classroom, I quickly unlocked the door, feeling refreshed by the cool air.

Within a few moments, I put the finishing touches on the first day's lesson plan and scanned the room for any final preparations. Before long, students began filing into the classroom, nervously searching for the right desk and seeking reprieve from the oppressive heat. As I warmly greeted the early-birds and welcomed them to eighth-grade English, my eyes caught sight of a mature rough-looking girl standing in the doorway, not wanting to enter but not allowing others in. With the sound of the bell signaling the start of class, I walked over to her and smiled. "Hi, my  name is Mrs. Kenley." She paused, looking down at her class schedule. I continued,"May I see your schedule?"

Without a word...

Without a word but studying me behind her thick black make-up and through the long unruly bangs which hid part of her face, she handed the crumpled paper over to me. I looked up. "Welcome, Violet. What a pretty name.  Please take a desk anywhere for now." Making her way to the back of the room, Violet took her seat, adjusted her black tank top so her VV tattoo was completely visible on her upper right arm, and stared out the window.

Violet chose never to read...

Over the next several weeks, my first period English students settled into their routine as did my other classes. Loving teaching as I did, it was always my goal to make sure my classroom was a safe place for kids - to be themselves and also to learn. Early on in the year, many students were excited about reading new novels, engaging in our discussions, and most were exhibiting enthusiasm in our assignments, except for Violet.  She remained in the back of the room, as quiet as a mouse. And although Violet chose never to read in class or volunteer an answer to a question, I knew from her written work that she was incredibly bright and talented.  Her poetry was unusually poignant and personal. I wanted to help her with it - take it to a new level - but I didn't want to intrude upon her self-imposed isolation from our class. Noticing that Violet usually hung out with her friends near our classroom before school started, I decided I would try to talk to her before first period started.

One cool Fall  morning before school, I stepped outside our classroom and peered down the long hallway. I saw Violet leave a group of girls, all dressed very much like her. As she walked toward our room, I approached her.

"Good morning, Violet. May I speak with you for a minute?" She glanced at me nervously, as if she were in trouble. I stepped closer.

"Violet, I just wanted to tell you how amazed I am with your writing, especially your poetry! You have such a gift!"  Violet looked confused, unsure as to what I meant. She said nothing. I continued.

"Violet, if you would like, I would love to work with you on it.  With a little help, I think your writing has so much promise." She stood there, numb.  "I often work with students after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  Do you think you could stay after on those days?" Feeling as though I overstepped my bounds, I waited for Violet to speak. Finally, her mouth moved.

"I....uhhhh....I can't stay after school.  I have to go home right after school is out. I....I  take care of

Her dark brown eyes spoke...

my brothers and sisters."

I jumped at the opening. "Violet, what about before school?  I see you are always here early? Would that work?"

For the first time since school started, Violet looked up at me. Her beautiful dark brown eyes spoke volumes of emotion, but she spoke six words.  "Yea....I can probably come then."



The months flew by, as they always do, especially when students are growing, changing, and blossoming. Violet was transforming too. We worked together every Tuesday and Thursday morning, almost every week. She became very focused on her writing, excelling in every form of it. We entered several poems into the school newspaper and submitted two of her essays to local competitions. Violet started trusting in our class, reading aloud, and participating in the interactive simulations.  As more time passed, I saw how Violet began to believe in herself. I witnessed firsthand how her worth started to form and take hold.

Then to my surprise, one Spring day after class, Violet asked to speak to me, privately. We set a time to meet before school the following week. Violet came to our classroom extra early.  We sat down in the student desks, facing one another. I waited for her.

"Mrs. Kenley, uhhh... I don't know if you know but I am in a girls' gang."  She pulled her sleeve away, revealing the VV tattoo, and covering it again.  "That's me - Violet Vasquez...." She lowered her head.

"Yes, I know, Violet. Are you ok? Is everything alright."  Stumbling over my words, I added, "Is there something I can do to help?"

Lifting her head, she spoke firmly. "No, Mrs. Kenley.  I have to do this myself. I....uhhh...am going to get jumped-out of my gang. I don't want to be in it anymore....and I just wanted you to know cause I may not be in school for a few days afterwards...it's gonna be hard. But, I gotta do it." Violet got up to leave.

I stood up quickly. "Violet, are you sure there isn't something I can do or get you some help?"

Violet paused at the door and smiled. "Mrs. Kenley, you've helped me so much already. Now, I need to do this for me."

Worried sick for several days, I waited for any news. Rumors spread throughout the school of Violet's departure from the gang, and I knew she was home recuperating. When she returned, her clothing had softened and her make-up and hair took on a lighter flaie as well. We resumed our tutoring sessions and Violet's writing flourished. She assimilated even more closely into our network of discussions and activities. And them, to my astonishment, Violet pushed herself even further.

Discovering Myself

At the end of every school year - with all the testing done and finals completed - I offer students the opportunity to "teach for a day".  I require they submit a full lesson plan,with goals, objectives, and a material list. With many applications submitted, I always try very hard to accept every student's application, even if it needs a little adjusting. However, without question, Violet's lesson plan on poetry - Discovering Myself  - exceeded any of my expectations.

On her "Teacher Day", as Ms. Vasquez neatly wrote her name on the board, I made myself comfortable in her desk, now in the center of the room. My heart beat with admiration as I watched her and listened to her. You see, Violet took a risk. She chose to walk away from self-defeating behaviors and move toward self-valuing behaviors. Violet decided to detach herself from damaging influences, and she made the choice to begin investing in herself. She did the hard work. Even with so many forces working against her, Violet fought for her worth and she found her voice.

Violet fought for her worth...

Knowing the struggles that so many young people face today, it sometimes feels impossible to change your circumstances or to alter your path in life. And yet, just like Violet, each of you has a well of worth waiting to serve you in whatever ways you choose.

You must brave enough to fight for it.

Another Way is here to show you the way.

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You Matter!

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Do You Allow Others To Determine Your Worth or Are You Ready To Determine Your Worth? Let's Get Started!

Do you think about your worth?

 Do you think about how important or valuable you feel? 

Are they days when like yourself – the way you look, the good grade you got on a test, or the cool text someone sent you?  Are there days when you struggle with low self-worth – you’re  not satisfied with your appearance, you wish you had better friends, or you just don’t feel like anyone really cares about you?

If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, you are not alone! From the moment we get up in the morning until we go to sleep, most of us are constantly taking in messages from all around us which contribute to our worth.

Messages about our worth come from everywhere!

Some of the messages come to us directly from our friends, parents/guardians, teachers, coaches, and individuals in our social networking worlds.  Either face to face or through electronic communications, we integrate others’ thoughts about us into our beings.  Those opinions might be positive causing us to feel really good about ourselves.  Hey, great job on your report card!  - I love your outfit! – You’re the best friend anyone could ever have!  Or, some messages can be really negative which will lower our esteem and worth. You failed another test; what’s wrong with you?  - You’re such a looser; you don’t have any friends.  - That jacket you’re wearing looks so stupid!  

Other messages that strongly influence our worth come to us indirectly. What do I mean by that? All you have to do is look around. What kinds of images do you see on the pages of magazines, in movies or TV, on videos, or in most advertisements?  We see perfect people striving to have perfect lives! As we look at and take in the messages of what is popular, attractive, and desirable, each of us subconsciously begins to compare and evaluate our worth to the standard that is being set for us.  If we feel we measure up, even just a little, we feel pretty good. However, if we don’t quite look a certain way or if we feel that we can’t achieve what someone else has, we feel “less than”. 

You can take charge of your worth!

If you want to change how you feel about yourself, if you want to take charge of your value, you have two important decisions to make.

First, are you willing to define your own worth?

Secondly, are you willing to be selective about how and in whom or what you invest yourself?   

Think about these two questions!  Think hard! And then, get ready.

  Next time,  you'll learn how to start defining your own worth! 

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