During the course of our travels through life, it’s a commonly accepted fact that what bring us the greatest joy can often bring us the most troublesome worries as well. When my son, Aria, was born, the great joy my wife and I experienced was matched only by the anxiety we felt when he contracted a strong fever. After a call to the doctor and a recommendation to check into the hospital and some x-rays, we found our son was stricken with a bout of pneumonia. Being only six weeks old at the time, we were terribly frightened about his prospects.
After some time in the hospital, the doctor explained that we could take him home if we administered a specific antibiotic because he needed it right away. We rushed to the pharmacy for the prescription, but its stock was depleted. Not one to be deterred, I decided to proceed to the next pharmacy, and perhaps it would be able to fill the prescription.
As I was preparing to leave the first pharmacy, however, I noticed a young woman, perhaps 25 years old, behind the counter. I’ll never forget that her nametag read, “Sarah,” and before I had an opportunity to turn and leave, she asked me, “Are you Fariborz?”
Being preoccupied with my son’s health, I had no time to discern how she knew me, and impulsively replied, “Yes.”
She then told me that when she was ten, she took Karate lessons from me, 14 years ago. After we reminisced about our past, my thoughts returned to my son, so she asked me what I wanted. I explained the situation and she affirmed that, yes, the pharmacy could not fill my prescription for that particular medicine, but she offered to call other pharmacies to see if they had it in stock.
After a round of phone calls that lasted half an hour, she discovered that no pharmacy in the San Fernando Valley had the medicine. In my head echoed the doctor’s admonition, “Give this medicine to your baby within a couple of hours.” Sarah’s meticulous assumption of the task at hand, however, translated into ease for my family and me. It seemed that she had made acquiring the medicine that would save my son her business, and I was thoroughly impressed.
Through her resilience, she paged and talked with our doctor; and, when briefed on the situation at hand, he revised the prescription and wrote us a substitute.
We sometimes don’t know how effective we are, as martial arts teachers. Perhaps, students learn well and accomplish their goals, but we’re not really aware of the full impact we’ve had on them. A Black Belt earned is no indication of how the student will remember his or her teacher.
This was one of those moments, however, when I realized how important it is to make sure that each student is given something, some kind of connection with their teacher that they will carry with them and remember for the rest of their lives. If I hadn’t made the impression I had on Sarah, I don’t know how I would have found the correct medicine for my ailing son in time. By touching someone’s heart 14 years, I ensured that my memory would be recalled with fondness; and even though it took more than a decade for that to come back around to me, it did, and it couldn’t have been timelier.
Making students feel special and creating a connection is how we, as teachers, create the kind of teaching environment that becomes mutually beneficial. When every student is treated as an individual, learning becomes more than a task, it becomes a symbiosis and a joy for both teacher and student to accomplish.
As each student walks into your school, remember that no other student is like he or she; and he or she, in turn, will remember that there is no other teacher like you.
