Lena's Gift: The Passion for Giving by Divya

Lena's Gift: The Passion for Giving by Divya - January 2017 Scholarship Essay

I glanced at the bookcase beside my desk, for about the tenth time, skimming through the titles of the children's books that had been haphazardly thrown into the shelves. In the background, Mrs. Thompson's monotonous voice was droning on, so dreary that it could outperform most sleeping pills. I sat in the back corner and used every ounce of mental strength to not fall asleep, even though I could take a nap and stay completely unnoticed. Strangely, however, this seemed to be the case with most of the time I spent in that room. I was either unneeded or sometimes even unwanted.

All the children around me were intently listening to Mrs. Thompson, intensifying my feeling of insignificance. The only relief I received to weather this stormy feeling of worthlessness were the smiles Lena, one of the students, would send me during Mrs. Thompson's lessons. She kept looking back to my corner and smiling, fascinated by my presence. And I, not wanting Mrs. Thompson to scold her for being distracted, would motion her to keep paying attention. However, this type of small interaction with the students, while amusing, did not make me feel like I was playing an integral part in their learning process.

My time as a teacher's assistant at our district's summer ESL program for elementary school children was slowly coming to end, but my experience with the program was not at all what I had hoped for. I spent more time organizing paperwork than giving real English lessons or putting my knowledge of multiple languages to use. Most of the time, I felt like an unnecessary piece of decoration in the corner. The thirty-minute lunch break was the one thing that made me excited to volunteer every day. I would spend this time talking to the kids about their summer plans, favorite superheroes, and of course the newest craze - How to Train your Dragon 2. I got close to the children over time, but I still wanted to be able to teach them English, not just become their friend.

On that day, after examining that same bookcase for the hundredth time, the class was finally dismissed to lunch. As I was walking to the cafeteria, Lena, the little girl who kept looking back at me during class, started walking alongside me. We began talking, and I let her tell me all about the new episode of her favorite cartoon in her broken English. When we got to the lunch table, Lena opened her lunch box and handed me a piece of chocolate that her parents had packed for her. She insisted that she wanted me to have the chocolate, explaining that it was because I was her friend and had never laughed at her when she talked in English, unlike other kids in her school. I was completely taken aback by her sad confession but, selfishly, could not stop smiling. I could not believe my actions had made a real difference.

Going into the classroom the next day I had a completely different outlook on the day ahead of me. I began to understand the impact I could have on the kids' lives if I simply put myself out there. Instead of awkwardly sitting in the back of the classroom and waiting to be given instructions by an already busy teacher, I started going up to students and helping them with whatever they needed, no matter how small. These little moments with the students started to mean a lot more to me than they originally had, and I no longer angrily obsessed over Mrs. Thompson's unwillingness to let me assist her in teaching a lesson. Helping people, even with the smallest things, became more than a tedious task. And volunteering became a passion rather than a requirement.