Inspiration (Matilda)

Of every teacher I have ever met, I have never met someone like Caitlin Netherfield. Her pedagogy style is simple, yet sophisticated in a way that I can't quite place. She speaks softly, yet everything else about her speaks volumes. If she walked into a room, no one would take notice. However, if you took the time to notice her, you would meet the kind of person one seldom meets, like a queen disguised as a peasant.

Caitlin sat before me with Steve at her side. They exchanged a few embraces and affectionate gestures. They were cute together, honestly. Although they were polar opposites in some ways, they were markedly similar in others. For one, they both loved music. They had the same warm empathy and love for others as well as for each other. However, I got the sense that they sometimes-no, frequently-forgot to love themselves.

We talked about our experiences working with different high schools.
         "It was a battle of ego. All the time." Steve looked defeated. I guessed that his device did not have the plural for "ego" installed. "I made them do a silent rehearsal." I have met several flute sections like that and they came in all levels and sizes, but mostly in large high school bands. They were exhausting and downright annoying. I have been in them in the high school and even professional level. It's less common on the professional level, but it still happens. "And you?" He gestured towards me.
        "The oboes were a little dicey, but the flutes were absolutely wonderful. They were rather personable and polite. I'd dare to say that they were a little too polite. Their lack of confidence resulted in intonation problems."
        "My woodwinds were all yelling at each other." Caitlin spoke up.
        "Which school did you go to?"
        "Skull Crusher High School."
        "Sounds like them."
        "Not only that, but one student said I was 'disturbing everyone' by doing this." She demonstrated her hand flap for me. I thought it was fairly innocuous, considering other things I've seen from other teachers. One of them chased her students around the track with a creeper as a warm up. The news was covering that for weeks on end. Those motions are fairly effective in releasing hand tension, the enemy of all woodwinds. I was surprised she didn't tell the students to do it. "Do you know anyone from the Skull Crusher band named Kathryn? On flute? She's the one who said I was disturbing everyone." That's my student!
       "She will hear from me during her next lesson." I took a sweet brown roll and spread butter on it. It is very out of character for Kathryn to openly disrespect a teacher, especially one like Caitlin. Across from me, she took a soft white roll, made a pocket of sorts in the center with the butter knife, and filled it with jam. She looked markedly better, but still tired. When she yawned, Steve placed an arm around her. Caitlin's unease melted away like butter.

I planned to leave, but I heard a loud yelp and a crash. Caitlin was shaking on the ground. I had one unprovoked seizure before...and only one. I was in high school at the time. I remember feeling like all the energy had been drained from my body. Caitlin, on the other hand, dealt with it on an almost daily basis. I rushed to her side hoping to be able to do something. Luckily, I did. I made sure people didn't shove old wallets or dirty sneakers in her mouth (and it's usually old wallets or dirty sneakers for some reason?) while Steve took care of the rest. His concern would touch the hearts of even the most cold, calculating people.

Each neurological lightning bolt racked her little frame. Seconds stretched into eternities as I watched every uncontrolled movement. Would she be okay? As if to mock my concern, things died down and then started up again. It had been five minutes. I wondered if Caitlin would be okay. Luckily, Steve was adept at functioning under extreme stress. Not only that, his compassion held. I moved more onlookers on and thought about the numerous teachers I have seen taking stress out on their students when it was really themselves they were mad at.

Caitlin inspired me. She really did--and not due to her disabilities. She inspired me because of her character. I knew she would not use her seizures (or anything else) as an excuse to treat others poorly or perform halfheartedly. If she said something hurtful, she owned up to it and apologized every time. I wished I could be more like that. I thought I had to scream at people to get them to respect me as a high school section leader. When she had command of the Mindcrack band in Steve's place, she barely spoke above a whisper the entire time, yet she managed to command respect. They played the best they ever had during that concert.

I wish I could say the same about myself.