On Kindness

In 1989, I started Kinder 1 at our local parochial school. Wearing my pigtails and blue-and-white uniform, I joined the afternoon session. There was this school rule where we could not get inside the campus, unless the gate had been opened and our guardians were given the go signal to usher us in. Naturally, as children, we considered this as an opportune time to outdo each other. So, when the gates were opened, we would all rush to our classroom with a scream and see who could get in first. There were no winners or losers, only that proud feeling of satisfaction that you were, well, the first to get inside the classroom.

I would never forget that time - that time when I learned that a kind person would literally pick you up. It was like any other afternoon. My classmates and their guardians were all at the town plaza which is located just across the school. When the gate was opened, we all rushed to get to the classroom. I was one of those who mindlessly ran. At times like this, my legs had a mind of its own. The next thing I knew, I was flying and I held my breath as I landed face-down on the pavement. The world stopped spinning for a moment, and when I looked up I saw a nun staring down at me just a few meters away from where I landed. Some high school students were also looking at me. My face felt hot as I realized that my skirt was in a position where my underwear was exposed for the whole world to see. I was too embarrassed to stand up. My heart sank when I saw some of my classmates beaming proudly because they were the "first" for that day. I could have been one of them if only I was not stupid enough to trip. I must have stayed there for a minute, but no one bothered to help - not the nun with her rosary beads and penguin habit, and not the high school students who were now laughing at something, probably at me? I was still rooted on that spot when someone, a classmate, put her hand around my shoulders and helped me up. And just like that, she walked with me to our classroom, still with her hand around my shoulders like I was her best friend. The rest of the day followed without any more significant 'trippings' on my part. And because of what she did, I actually forgot that I did something silly and embarrassing on that day.

I am writing this now because I never got to thank her. Her name is Elisa Labrador, and even though we became classmates again in second grade, I was not able to show my gratitude to her in any way. It's funny because we never really became buddies. Sure, we were classmates, but that was just it. But every time I think about my kindergarten days, she is always one of those memories that would surface, and I am flooded with gratitude. She saved me that day. Maya Angelou said people will forget what you did and said, but they will never forget how you made them feel. Elisa made me feel that I was OK even if I tripped. And for a kindergartener, that meant the whole world already.

I am also writing this now because my son has recently joined a Summer Camp and will start with Kindergarten this coming June, and I do hope he will encounter a kind person like Elisa, too. Better yet, I hope he will be kind like Elisa.