Foot in Mouth

I was teaching figurative language this week to a group of fifth graders. As English is their second language, they were amused to hear phrases such as "down in the dumps", "tie the knot", "give me the brush off", and "foot the bill". There was a lot of laughter and many hearty attempts at trying to figure out what those strange phrases meant.

The first sentence we read together was "Sam was down in the dumps after he wrecked his car". All my students thought that Sam was visiting the local dump to check on his car or was turning in his car or was looking for parts. We did not get very far with "tie the knot" because no one seemed to know what a knot was. "Give me the brush off" meant nothing to them except that someone somewhere owned a hairbrush. "Foot the bill" caused much laughter. Then, I ran into trouble with the phrase "put one's foot in one's mouth". I got blank stares and giggles. I started to explain by saying, "I put my foot in my mouth when I asked someone how their father was and I found out that their father had died. By saying something unintentionally hurtful, one puts one's foot in one's mouth". Immediately, the student sitting left of me, pulled his yellow shirt up over his face and placed his head down on the edge of the table. I asked him to remove the shirt from his face and lift up his head so that he might continue the lesson with the group. He did so and everyone stared at his tear-stained face. I asked what was wrong. There was no response...just sniffles and red eyes. After a bit, he wiped his face and nose, shook his mop of uncombed black hair, smiled slightly and looked ready to continue.


At the end of the class, I took him aside. "Jose, what is wrong?" I met with silence. I tried again. "Jose, why were you crying?" This time he looked up. I tried a third time. "Jose, did I do something wrong?" He looked at me and said slowly, "You know when you said that thing about someone's father dying"...his voice trailed off and it suddenly hit me like a wave of cold water. How could I have been so very stupid and unthinking? Jose's father had died recently and there had been a tremendous amount of emotional stress and strain on the family. I had bumbled into the raw wound of his pain like a clod, not stopping to think about how careful I need to be about sensitive subjects in the classroom. My students suffer from troubles I have been spared. It is far too easy for me to sail carelessly through the day with my lesson plans, my goals and my optimism without taking the time to stop and look...I mean really look into the faces and eyes of my students.

I apologized and asked him to forgive me. He shook my hand, gave me a smile and moved back toward his desk. I thought about this conversation several days. Some of my most wounded students are some of the quickest to forgive. We could all learn a lesson from their maturity. I know I did. I am sobered by the responsibility to be careful about what I say in class. I am challenged by Jose's example of a generous spirit in forgiving me and I know I need to forgive quickly and often. I am humbled by the kindness of an inner city child who suffers much and struggles much with a difficult world. Let me not add to his difficulty. I am determined to tread more gently through his world and through the lives of vulnerable children.