Once Upon a Unisex In-Class Restroom

Well, it's started already.

My five-year-old daughter Janett came home from pre-kindergarten on Monday afternoon with a bit of a story to tell. So when I called my wife, Janett got on the phone, spilling the details. Earlier that day she had been punched. By a good friend. I'm sure it is needless to say this, but she was a little upset. Yet her love for a good story moved her to tell me about her adventure with such excitement, her frustrations were nearly lost.

Apparently her friend invited Janett into the unisex in-class restroom to share something she wanted to tell her. After closing the door behind them, this friend turned and punched Janett square in the head. Startled by this joke, she began to laugh, but after the other girl landed two more fists across the side of her head, the comedy began to sting. And it's somewhere around this point that the joke faded. Confused and more than a bit perturbed, Janett excused herself, saying that she was going to go tell the teacher. At this, her fighting friend blocked the door and, with fist clinched and held to Janett's face, asked her what she's "gonna do about it." Janett, not knowing what to say or do next, just stood there and in a still-quite-confused-sort-of-way mildly muttered that she didn't know. Somehow around this point both of the girls made it out of the restroom alive.

After telling me all this, Janett admitted that it really hurt her feelings that her friend would punch her like that. But then she paused on the phone and explained that her friend was doing this because she was really sad. Her uncle had died. Earlier in the afternoon it turns out, as both girls arrived at school, her friend stuck her tongue out at my daughter. A few minutes later she apologized and mentioned her family tragedy. So when Janett was later punched by this friend, she said she knew why her friend did it. She was sad.

When my wife called the teacher later that day, the facts had been confirmed. In actuality, the death was a cousin, but an increase in abusive behavior had been observed of the student in the wake of the tragedy. Janett's teacher was great, apologizing for the incident and explaining what would be done in the future. She was truly great and supporting of us and our daughter.

Over the past couple days, I've been thinking a lot about everything. Some whom we've talked about this with have jumped on reasons for not sending our children to Chicago schools (yes, Janett goes to public pre-school). This is just the pre-K version of what is sure to follow as she gets older. That may be true. I'm sure that it is to at least some degree. But I guess this was not my primary concern. Maybe it should have been, but it wasn't.

What I was struck by was Janett's response in all of this. Though she was confused, frustrated, and I think a little humiliated in all of this, her primary concern seemed to honestly be over her friend's well-being. "She was sad. It was because her uncle died." She told me she wanted be a good friend for her, and that evening she prayed for her friend. She prayed that she wouldn't be sad anymore. And that she wouldn't punch her again.

Maybe I'm easily amazed. But I am taken aback by her other-centered attitude as a five-year-old. Now I'm not trying to portray this other-centeredness as necessarily characteristic behavior. But nonetheless I am moved by Janett's clear concern for her friend despite her own expense. I wonder what my concern would be in a similar situation. If a good friend of mine attacked me physically while in a state of grief--or better yet, took my credit card on a spending spree, how concerned would I be with their welfare? In my mix of frustration and pain with compassion and concern, which would dominate? Would my anger overwhelm my empathy? Would I be able to put myself in his shoes? And how much would my days be lined with prayers for my friend?

In his letter to the Philippians, the apostle Paul urges, "Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus" (2:3-5). An even more penetrating question asks me how concerned I am for others when they do NOTHING to harm me. On a normal day, when it costs me nothing, how much do I love those around me? And as Paul writes here, how much do I count others as "more significant than myself"? Do I EVER count others more significant than myself?

So this is what I've been thinking about lately. I find in my daughter an example to imitate. She stands as a challenge for me to more fully live in light of the Gospel. Her concern calls me to be more aware to the needs around me. She invites me to care more. And yet in all of this, she sits completely unaware that she has challenged me so. She's too busy playing and learning than to transform friends into bullies or to think much on her father's ramblings. May I learn this kind of humility and true concern for others. And may each of us in the church learn such community. May we learn to not only get along, but to truly love and care for one another in a way that puts the other first--regardless of how the other acts. And especially when the other is facing a particularly tough time. May we learn the depths of such friendship.

I didn't realize I have so much to learn from a five-year-old.