You Are More Than Anyone’s Experience of You
Confirming and celebrating your self-worth
His friends and teachers saw him as an incorrigible pain in the kazoo. And for good reason. Kevin was different, very different.
I was Kevin’s teacher during his junior year in high school. A tall, burly kid, he was a student in my Advanced Placement Psychology class. He always looked a little disheveled, with curly hair that sprung from his head like tightly coiled Slinkys.
Psychology: The art and science of what it means to be human
At the beginning of every school year, I congratulated all my students on choosing to study a subject squarely focused on what it meant to be fully human. It was the one subject, I told them, that they were unlikely ever to say, “When will I ever use this?”
“Along the way, we are going to visit intimate and highly sensitive topics, such as sexual orientation, child abuse, addictions, mental illnesses, trauma, death, and discrimination. I guarantee that every time we encounter one of these topics someone in this class will have either personal experience with it or knows of someone who has. That fact requires a reverent frame of mind. It requires an uncommon level of maturity.”
Treat each other with kindness and reverence
“There is only one requirement to remain a student in this class, and it is not academic: You must always treat others respectfully. That is not negotiable. I expect you to treat me with respect, and I, in turn, will do the same for you and everyone in this class. I care about you and want you to leave this class in June a better person.”
“You are likely to discover that some of the ideas we will discuss openly trigger unpleasant memories or feelings in you. That’s normal and healthy. When those moments arise, and you find yourself being self-critical or worse, there are two things I want you to remember.”
You are more than anyone’s experience of you.
“You are more than anyone’s experience of you. To borrow a phrase from a bestselling science book, ‘You contain multitudes.’ There is a hidden galaxy of talents, interests, wounds, healings, disappointments, and joys within you. Never let anyone diminish you.”
Never let anyone diminish you.
“Second — behind the face of every person you meet today is someone who fights a battle you know nothing about. Knowing that should spark empathy within you.”
Behind the face of every person you meet today is someone who fights a battle you know nothing about.
I taught AP Psychology for twelve years and loved it dearly. Kevin taught me how to become a better man, a more compassionate and patient man, in those twelve years. He would become my teacher.
Kevin’s battle
Kevin was hungry for attention and validation. His parents had gone through a horrible divorce, and he was tossed back and forth between Mom’s apartment and Dad’s apartment like a volleyball. Not surprisingly, he desperately wanted to be seen — truly seen. Don’t we all want to be seen for who we are?
Don’t we all want to be seen for who we are?
Kevin’s clownish behavior and childish antics were the source of a myth about him that was widely circulated by students and teachers alike. That myth was that Kevin was just plain stupid. Yes, I heard the word stupid used to describe him many times.
Stupid is the other ‘s word.’ It was prohibited in my classroom.
Kevin wasn’t stupid. Not even close.
Trauma — the body does keep the score
Kevin had been traumatized, and his behavior and lack of interest in school were merely symptoms of that trauma.
Nobody had been able to see the battle he had been fighting.
It took a rather accidental event for me to discover the genius lurking within Kevin.
The bald guy with fuzz balls on his head
I’m bald (I love it), and when I go a day or two without shaving my head, little bristles emerge on my scalp like a carpet of Velcro. One cold day, I was wearing a heavy blue sweatshirt, which I removed before handing out a test to my students.
Kevin blurted out,
“Dr. Clark, you have fuzzy blue balls on your head!”
He bolted from behind his desk, approached me, and gently removed the furry little balls. When he was finished, he returned to his seat.
Kevin's act of kindness was completely unexpected. I fought back tears. To this day, I wonder why I feared letting Kevin see me cry. That, in and of itself, was a lesson I needed to learn.
Until then, Kevin had been doing OK work — nothing remarkable. But when I sat down to grade his test, low and behold, it was off-the-charts phenomenal. His understanding of complex ideas was as deep as it was accurate. What had happened?
What happened, Kevin?
The next day, I met Kevin at my door before class.
“Kevin, do you have a moment? I have something to share with you.”
I’m sure that Kevin thought he was, once again, in trouble. So I added,
“You’re fine, Kevin, you’re more than fine.”
I sat him down at my desk and showed him his test. I told him how very, very proud I was of him.
I believe I gave Kevin what he needed most — I saw him, really saw him.
I asked him what he had done differently on this test than on the previous assessments. This is what he said…
“Dr. Clark, do you remember when I picked those fuzz balls off your head? When I picked off the last piece, I gently brushed the top of your head to make sure I had found them all.”
At this point, I had no idea where this was going. Kevin continued…
“As I sat at my desk, I realized that you hadn’t complained when I did that, nor did you pull back. No other teacher would have done that. You saw me differently than everyone else, so I figured I could see myself differently.
This time, I did cry.
I hugged him tightly and thanked him with syrupy tears rolling down my face. I then asked him to take out his phone and call his father. For a moment, he expressed sheer terror.
The phone calls Kevin never anticipated
“Don’t worry, Kevin, it’s going to be fine. I want to talk with your dad and tell him what a fabulous son he has. And when I finish telling him that I’m going to hand your phone back to you so you can talk with your father.”
I made the call on Kevin’s phone and shared the good news with his dad. His father was speechless — nobody had ever called him with a kind word about his son — until today.
I then asked Kevin to call his mom. I repeated what I had just said to Kevin’s father. His mother sobbed and could barely speak.
After each call, I did what I had promised — I returned the phone to Kevin so he could get a healthy dose of loving validation from each parent. I’m sure the validation he received was the best medicine Kevin could have wished for. His face just exploded with joy.
I’m not a therapist, but I think a lot of healing occurred that day in that family.
You are the reason I teach
“Kevin, you are the reason I teach. You have opened my eyes and heart to the awesome beauty inside you. You are a gift.”
I had come to see Kevin for who he was, which was much more than what he had been advertising. I had glimpsed the galaxy within him. I had unknowingly permitted that young man to do the same for himself.
When you doubt your value as a human being, remember Kevin. So many of us let others determine our worth, a valuation almost always based on superficial information and random experiences.
You can’t see the core of an apple until you peel it. The same thing applies to the core of human beings. Your core is priceless; never forget that.