Column: Senior Moments, "What We Say"

“Are you shy? I wrote you a poem to make you courageous,” a sixth grader says. “I have a dog named Frankie!” a fourth grader says. “You sound like a clown when you talk,” a second grader says. “Is my mom gonna die?” a kindergartener asks. I listen to them, as they open their filterless minds to me, and think about what I should say. Oftentimes, they do quirky things like address me as Ms. Karen after I’ve told them my name name is “Erin” repeatedly. I’ve come to terms with it.

This year, I’ve found myself submerged in classrooms of children of all ages. To meet the requirements for the A+ program, I go to the kindergarten classroom to help them learn math for one hour every day. Alternating my seat at each of their color-coordinated tables, I watch them learn to count and write numbers, something I forgot I had to learn so long ago. It’s an honor for them to have a high school friend near them.

Then, once a week, I assist and lead activities in the second and sixth grade classrooms. I help a wonderful girl named Kally learn history and teach the second grade class to play games and build crafts. Twice a week after school, I help two little boys in the first and fourth grades learn math. Like a grandmother, I accidentally call them each other’s names and high five them when they solve a problem. Sometimes, it feels like even though I’m the teacher, I’m learning something new.

Regardless of the child, grade or situation, they always ask the common questions: What grade are you in? Why are you here? When will you come back? When they ask this, I say, I’m in 12th grade, I came because I was told to, and I don’t know when I’ll come back. This is a lie. I do know when I’ll come back, I just want to avoid their disappointment in case I have an uncharted absence.

On resumés, college applications and job interviews, we are tempted to lie or gloat about how awesome we are. The world will tell you to sell yourself, make yourself seem like the best possible option. The world says nobody will want you in their life unless you have something valuable to offer them.

The truth is, our teachers, friends and coworkers are asking the same questions as these children. What are your abilities, how can you benefit me and do you plan to stay?

What if we told them the truth and showed them who we are? The truth is, on the inside, I’m the same as all of these children. Being so young, they don’t comprehend I was five once, too, and one day, they’ll be 18. I show up and be with them by choice, because in spite of our age difference, we are friends. They shouldn’t worry; when you expect me, I’ll be there. I’ll come back.

These children I’ve come to know so deeply loved me before I answered any of their questions. They wanted to know me. They wanted me to sit beside them and make them feel seen. When someone presents themself to you, what do you say back? Will you give them a chance? Will you tell them the truth? Before you know them, for no other reason than that they are a person, will you believe in them?

Erin Urhahn is a senior at Oak Ridge High School. She's just a girl trying to find her niche in the world.