Something strange happened the other day during study hour.
I was walking around, helping students where necessary, checking school diaries, making sure they were busy for an entire hour, when suddenly I came across a remark one of my students had written in his diary.
It was just there, not really hidden, something he’d scribbled down without thinking, perhaps. Translated into English, it would have been something along the lines ofReal friends are always there for you when you need them. 

And then it hit me.
My entire life I had been running around, chasing people who were bad friends. Or at least: I was the better friend. I was always there for those I loved. Until I was the one who really needed them. Then I was the one who was left wanting.
Unintentionally, the boy had shone a light on some of the broken friendships of the past years. Though both parties were in the wrong, the bottom line was that I had always been the better friend in those relationships: always there, always listening, always figuring out things to help. Until I was in a bad spot and I needed help. Until I was the one who needed a shoulder to cry on. I’m far from perfect and probably expect too much from people, which probably scares them, I don’t know. They simply weren’t there, without any real explanation, they were gone. And it left me heartbroken, much more then the usual breakup with a boyfriend. Friendship breakups hit home because you let them into your heart in ways some relationships never do. It made me pull up walls around me. Scan the people around me for potential hurters. Limit the amount of close friends to those I thought I could trust. Until recently, that went just fine. But then you find out people change too much at times.

Though the boy didn’t know, he had enabled me to put aside the still lingering grief over those ‘friends’. Whenever friends backstab you, let you down or ignore you when you need them most, they’re no real friends. This little boy had enabled me to recognize my real friends for who they were. And it made me feel so, so good.

He saw me looking at his diary, at the quote at the bottom of the right page. He looked at me and said: It’s true, though, isn’t it, Miss? 

Yes. Yes it’s true.

And then study hour was over.


2 thoughts on “the one where the kid teaches the teacher

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