Tell Me Whatcha Want, Whatcha Really Really Want!

I think the combination of my purple shirt and gray hair is the reason I was accosted.  And maybe saying accosted is a bit dramatic,  and maybe it’s more fun to be a little dramatic, but for the sake of accuracy I’ll start over here. 

So, I’d just finished facilitating a super fun social emotional group on an elementary school playground and, wearing my perfectly branded Everybody Matters Purple Polo,  I was wading through a swarm of running, jumping, gleeful  second graders when I noticed a different second grader running full speed towards me, and as he approached I realized he was not at all gleeful and he was barely able to stop short before barreling into me. 

He  looked up at me with a mixture of determination and angst.  He was gasping from being out of breath but was able to sputter out, “Hey, are you the boss?” 

“What?” I asked, innocently. 

“The boss.  The boss of Everybody Matters?” he repeated accusingly. 

“Oh, well, yes, I guess I am.”  I responded realizing that he knows the  purple shirt means Everybody Matters and the gray hair must mean the Bossy Old Lady .  “What’s up?”

By this point he was breathing regularly and his line of questioning switched from semi-hostile to just plain confused and sad.  His eyes welled up with tears, the big round kind that drip out in perfect drops and roll in straight lines down a kid’s chubby cheeks and pretty much break the heart of anyone watching them.  They hadn’t started their descent down his face, but I knew it was only  a matter of moments until they spilled out.  

“Why isn’t Mr. Eric going to see me anymore?” He asked, confused about why his intern had ended their meetings. 

“I’m not sure.  What did Mr. Eric tell you?’  (See, remember those management classes where they tell you to gather all the information before you start saying things? Yeah, yeah, that’s what I’m doing here. )

“I don’t know,” he moaned, “something about eight weeks.  He said something about eight weeks.  But what does eight weeks have to do with anything? And he said he had to talk to his boss. And you’re his boss.”  He was so confused and almost pleading to understand.  The tears had won out at this point and traced a path down his cheeks.   None had fallen to the ground yet, but one was already just clinging to his chin and ready to drop. 

“Ah, I know.  He must have said that we usually meet with kids for eight weeks and if they are doing really well by then and are using their coping skills, they don’t need to see us anymore.  You must be doing great and you’ve graduated!”  I said enthusiastically.

“But I’m not doing great! I’m doing sad!  And I’m doing angry!  And he helps with my being angry.  And who’s going to help me with being angry if I don’t have Mr. Eric?”  His whole body had joined in the crying now, not just the tears, but also his voice and his shoulders and his quivering chin. 

“You are right!”  I said.  “You are totally right! I get it!  Mr. Eric didn’t understand that even though you’re doing well, he can help even more.  So when he comes back from his school holiday he can start seeing you again.” I offered.

“What?”  He stopped crying and looked quizzically up at me.  “What do you mean?”

“When he comes back from break I’ll send him a message and say he has permission to start seeing you again.” 

“Huh? You will.”  he asked, wiping his face with his sleeve.  

“Yep.  It will be after vacation though, so you have to wait a little bit, but then he will see you.”

“Wait.” This was almost a question and he paused as though not quite believing what I’d said.   “Do I have to do anything?” he asked, still confused.

“You just did it.” I replied.

“Huh? I didn’t do anything.” He countered.

“Oh, yes you did.”  I explained. “You were confused and upset and you went to a grown-up and showed them  that you were confused and upset.  You told the grown up what you needed so that the grown up could understand you, and you were able to get what you needed.  That is a very grown up thing to do, and some grown ups aren’t even very good at it.” 

He started to smile. He stood up straighter. 

“I can see why Mr. Eric thought you were fine without him.  You were smart and brave just now.  I’ll let Mr. Eric know that you talked to me and you will get what you need.”   His arms wrapped around me in the most appreciative hug, a hug  I can still feel even as I’m typing this!  Then, filled with hope, he looked up at me, smiled with his whole face, and ran off to play with his friends. 

Yep. I have the best job ever. 

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