What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

This thought was flitting around my mind as I sat, sick, uncomfortable, with a tinge of very real fear, on the boat back to Bali. My thoughts were as turbulent as the waves.

But this upset stomach (the sick part, not the seasick part), I thought, will at least build up my immunity. It will leave me better. Stronger. Depending on how sick, maybe faster, too.

And I started thinking about it: if it doesn't kill me, will it make me stronger? Last year, one of my students forced me to read a (badly written) sample SAT essay on that exact topic. The student, in a rather obvious way, felt forced to agree for lack of any real ideas.

It was definitely the subject of an essay by a writer suffering from terminal cancer. I wanted to read the end of the essay, but I got distracted by a student. Had to go teach. Needed to attend a meeting. Something, and soon the essay was off my Facebook newsfeed. Maybe I book-marked it, but that was a whole computer ago. I do recall that the author had issues with the phrase. He was living the slow process of getting killed quicker than the rest of us, after all.

So, do I agree?

Well, maybe. If you come from a cultural perspective where strength is valued, then yes. We certainly interpret all of our struggles as making us better, therefore stronger. More courageous. Better able to deal with a similar adversity in the future and overcome it. Beat it. Best it. We are a culture of winners.

But, it could just as easily be something else.

(No, I am not suffering from a terminal disease, at least not that I know of. I have survived my boat trip, and am now writing this weeks later. I am not dying of anything, unless you realize that Death will always be in the last place we look.)

Still, why does adversity make us tougher? Why can it not do something else? Why not... Make me kinder. More compassionate. A better listener. More thoughtful.

And does it really always make us stronger? Ask someone with an illness that leaves them weak or disabled. Ask a woman or a child who has been abused. Does the periodic, aching pain in my knee make me stronger? Or does it make me sad and grumpy? Angry, even, if I'm sometimes honest.

But it can make me kinder.

Earlier this month, I received some rather mean, hateful emails from a student. And I won't lie, they hurt my feelings. I wanted to find the child(ren) tormenting me, and kick them out of school. I wanted to cry. I was scared it would ruin the place I was making in my school, with my administrators, fellow teachers, and students.

And while I did talk to my circle of friends about it, I tried to keep it fairly close. I tried to not let if affect my classroom. I tried to smile more. To talk to more students. To be nicer.

You know what I noticed? My students still talk to me. Wave to me from across campus, too. One of them asked me explicitly to come to her soccer game (I couldn't because I was already going to the MUN conference, but I made her promise to tell me when the next home game is). My classes seem to be going smoother, too.

Maybe compassion is better than strength.


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Location:Indonesia, China, and Life in General

Kindness

I'm spending much of my weekend chaperoning my students at a Model United Nations conference. It's here in Beijing, so it's not really all that stressful, but it does mean spending some time in the meeting spaces of a hotel on the other side of town.

And *that* means being that much closer to some of my favorite restaurants. This evening, my co-chaperone agreed to hang with the kiddoes while I went off on a self-imposed burrito mission. Yes, Gentle Reader, about as close to a real, American burrito as big as your head as you can get (because the kind of burrito I'm talking about is American, not Mexican — those are good, too, but different).

However, I was heading out right at rush hour, so taxis were not to be found. A nice Asian woman started talking to me, and suddenly we were talking about U.S. cities and sky-diving and we agreed that we were going to a close-enough place to share a cab. (Actually, the Doorman suggested It, and I figured out what he was saying and agreed before she could decline on my account.)

When, 20 minutes later, a cab was finally found, we sped off into the traffic and continued to talk about food and travel. She admitted she was a flight attendant for Qatar Airlines (hence all the traveling). We talked about the size of steak in Texas, and American-style barbecues, and the giant "party size" bags of chips that are as big as her t-shirt.

She and her companion (who obviously didn't have much English because he was not joining in the talk) got out first and left the driver with more than enough money. She refused to take anything from me. "Nope," she said. "Americans are always so nice to me when I am in the United States, and now I have the chance to do something nice for you."

What can you say to that but, "Thank you."


- Do you really care this was posted using BlogPress from my iPad?

Location:Beijing, China