Through his eyes

Adopting a teenager is tough, and raising that teenager to be a young adult is even tougher.

I've already said that, many times. This stage of life seems to be harder than all the teenage stuff because I still see that teenager (more like a little boy) stuck inside that young adult body. What looks like laziness and rebellion is actually just a cry to say, "Please. I'm not ready yet. Let me stay here just a little while longer. I'm scared, and I need you."

As much as I wanted to spend more time alone recharging this summer, either writing, blogging, reading, or even cleaning and purging, I had this "kid" that needed a daily schedule and constant entertainment. He refused to take the initiative to get a second job (his main job still paid him all summer), but he lacked the skills to find productive things to do on his own or even find ways to entertain himself. He wasn't asking for video games or things to do by himself. He didn't ask to go hang out with friends. Instead he daily told me all the things he wanted US to do together. Us, as in me and him. What 21 year old wants to hang out with his mom and looks forward to spending a day with her? How could I say no to that?  If he's asking for it, then it's likely that he needs that time.

So we rode the DART to Dallas a couple times to visit museums and stop for coffee/drinks on the way back. We drove to Houston and stopped for Colombian food together. We celebrated Colombian Independence Day at a local Colombian restaurant here in town. We went to the movies together every Wednesday. We went to all the free concerts in the park and went Chick Fil-A hopping one day to get free entrees because we dressed up like cows. We played a lot of Skip-Bo, went thrift store shopping, went out for ice cream, and just spent a LOT of quality time together.

I felt like God really pressed on my heart this summer to try to see life through his eyes (Juan's). He's only been here (and been part of a solid family) for six years. We only have six years of memories built up with him. He's only had six years to learn from us, to observe us, to love us, and to know he's loved by us. Of course there are skills that are taking him a little longer than his peers. Of course the reality of adulthood scares him and makes him want to regress to a younger age mentality. Of course the money and time management aren't there yet. And the more I try to push him to accept those responsibilities, the more he pushes back because, quite frankly, he's just not there yet.

Then one day recently, it hit me hard how much I really haven't understood his perspective. We were watching the movie Freedom Writers on a DVD at home. In case you've never seen it, it's a true story about a beginner teacher who goes into the inner city and, after flubbing up immensely in the beginning, she finds a way to truly connect with her students in order to reach them. She studies their lives, gives them a safe space to journal, visits their homes, takes them on trips, and pretty much gives her entire life to her students in order to reach them. She gets herself into all kinds of trouble as a teacher, but she successfully connects with her kids and ends up inspiring them to actually finish school and go on to higher education. In fact, one of those students spoke at our school convocation last year and vouched for her, saying that every single one of them went on to become somebody--many who are now teachers, doctors, and lawyers. Kids who the rest of society had given up on. Kids who thought they'd never amount to anything or break out of the cycle of poverty, drugs, and gangs that their families had been a part of. Kids that I, myself, would have been terrified to teach.

I've always seen that movie from a teacher's eyes, wondering if I would ever be willing to sacrifice and risk so much for the sake of my students. I always thought the movie was about the teacher, as you can see how I just described it to you.

And then I watched it with Juan.

And I realized that the movie wasn't about the teacher to him. He identified with the students. He talked about watching the movie in the orphanage many years ago and how they all identified with those students. They lived a life so similiar to the students in the movie. They related to them. While I saw the movie as an inspiration, reminding me of the opportunity I have as a teacher to make a difference in my students' lives, he saw the movie from the perspective of a student whose life could change so radically if one teacher would just invest in him like she did into those students.

It was eye opening. The way he related to those kids reminded me of how differently I see the world than he does. It made me see that perhaps I should stop trying so hard to get him to see himself from my perspective and start trying harder to see things through his eyes.

I missed the first 15 and a half years of his life. Sometimes he fills me in on memories. Sometimes he opens up to tell me his stories. Sometimes I ask questions. But that's fifteen and a half years that a different system raised him and shaped his world view. I can't expect that merge of worldviews to magically work out together after only six years.

So here's to a new year with a fresh perspective, working harder to see things more from his eyes while still helping him see from my eyes, too.