A Lesson by an Angel
It has been a little over a month since the devastating earthquake in Sichuan. Though it is difficult to rebuild the towns and houses from debris, it is much harder to mend mental homes for tens of thousands of those who have lost their dear ones. Social workers, volunteers and psychologists are rushing to Sichuan to undertake what I term as “Scar Relief “efforts. There is no doubt that they all
have compassion and love for those who are badly in want of their help. But not
all know “how to help “!
I was particularly impressed and moved by one commencement lesson in a junior-high tent school conducted by a very qualified social worker. She is a middle-aged
woman incidentally by the English name of Angel. Just by a sheer look of her, you will find her very warm and reliable. As soon as the class started, she played Sichuan folk music in a tape recorder. Then she began to introduce herself and
through the introduction she made a few jokes about clumsy and awkward moments
in her life. For the first time ever since the quake, the students laughed. In the class, she distributed blank paper among the students and said” now, boys and girls, let us play a game. Just imagine that a piece of paper at your hand is
your life. I know terrible things happened to you in the last few weeks. You can
tear out part of paper to express how you feel and later tell me why you tear up the paper the way you do.” So, the whole class was engaged in this game. From
those trembled hands and facial expressions, one can definitely interpreter the
stories they are going to tell. After a while, she invited some students to come over to the front to tell what those broken paper mean. One student explained
that those tearing mean roads at home were destroyed and his home collapsed…. After each student told their tearful stories, she said to the class with some held-back tears in her eyes “do you want to see what kind of paper I have for my
life?” “You may think as a woman from a more affluent area who has never gone
through anything you have just gone through, my paper will look very different from yours,” she continued. To the surprise of the class, when she showed her paper, it also had lots of tearing. She explained that the biggest tearing represents that she lost her grandma a few years back whom she could not even see for the final farewell because she was abroad studying and that was her deepest sorrow in life. She, then, raised up her voice, “the paper at your hand symbolizes your life. You have scars in you life now. So does everybody else! No life is perfect no matter how much it looks so ! So, boys and girls, use whatever paper left at your hand to make a paper plane and then make a wish to yourself.”
When everybody has a paper plane done, she asked the students to go outside to fly those paper planes at same time. As the planes flying into the sky, she said
“now, you see, however imperfect the paper is, the paper plane can still fly with your wishes and dreams, so does your life!”.
After returning to the classroom, she introduced her assistant who is a survivor
of Tangshan earthquake some thirty years ago. The lady was orphaned by the quake. Now she has a good job and happy family of herself though she still misses her long-lost parents every now and then. Then, the teacher told the students that
no matter how many skies have fallen, life must go on. She said,” five years down the road, you will all graduate from high school and some go to college and
some may end up in different jobs, ten or more years from now, you may become teachers, doctors, workers and businessmen… and you will get married, have your own children and love them the same way as your parents love you… “
Thus, ended this meaningful lesson. I understand this is just a start. The healing process for these kids can be long and sometimes painful. Without love you can not do this job, with love alone you can not do the job well either!
I have profound respect and great admiration for Ms Angel and the like. Their job is by no means less important than those who help rebuilding the towns and cities in Sichuan. It is a little disrespectful to call them shrimps; it is even not respectful enough to just call them teachers. It is more fitting and proper to
call them, as Ms Angel’s name suggests, Angels.
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