Alison

I was a special education teacher. My job description? Teach children who were mentally challenged at their achievement and ability levels. I assessed their strengths and encouraged them.

After my devastating divorce, I struggled to find the energy to do my job. I was gifted at guiding these children, but now I wanted to put my energy into my healing. I was in a serious state of the “uns.” unwanted, unimportant, unloved. Un…. you name it.

In my class, eight-year-old Allison spent three weeks learning six letters. After a year, she could differentiate words like lamp, limp, and lump. This was no small accomplishment for Allison, but mistakes were common. My corrections never bothered her. “Oh well!” she said with patient acceptance of herself.

In the schemes of life’s demands, Allison was not concerned about her abilities to read and write. She liked our class and awaited my arrival, greeting me each morning at the door with a smile. She put her little arms around me, and said, “I love you, Mrs. A.,” which was just what I needed to hear.

Because of Allison’s simple and genuine love and her unique ability to accept herself just as she was, I became less of an un…un whatever, every day. When my patience runs short, I remember Allison, and say, “Oh well!’

Gaynelle Gooch