"They say the difference between arrogance and confidence is the willingness to learn."
From a very little age, CJ was full of confidence. There wasn't much he didn't think he could do. He would often tell us he was going to do something, and then he would figure out a way to make it happen. This applied to just about anything from fixing things, to hunting and fishing, to sports.
When CJ was 8 he took hunter's safety with his sister. Almost all of the students in his class were at least 5 years older than him. It really didn't matter to CJ. He proudly raised his hand to answer every question the instructor asked. He wasn't timid or intimidated by their age difference. He had one of the highest scores on both the shooting and written portions of the test. I often envied the amount of confidence he had. I first believed it was because of his age, or innocence, or possibly because he was a boy, but as he got older that confidence didn't wane.
I often share how hearing new stories about CJ has become one of the things I treasure most since losing him. This spring in our process of selecting a recipient for his baseball scholarship, we had the opportunity to read essays submitted by the senior baseball players who had applied for the scholarship. In one essay a senior told a story of CJ:
One afternoon while this senior was in study hall, CJ walked in and came up to talk to him. This particular day he had his new baseball bat because practice was right after school. (I can clearly see this playing out in my head. Ever since CJ was a little boy, he would approach anyone who had a bat or a ball and strike up a conversation.) As CJ was talking to the senior baseball player he asked him if he could hold his bat. ( I can also see this playing out in my head. I'm sure CJ took a few swings with the new bat and rubbed his hands over it.) After holding it for a minute, CJ handed it back to the boy and said, " Here you go! Now that I've touched it, it will be lucky!"
Through the tears of reading the essay, I started to laugh. This was so typical of CJ. From the outside looking in, you may think it sounds pretty arrogant for a freshman to tell this to a senior, but for those of us who knew CJ, it was just par for the course. He was able to pull it off because when practice came around that afternoon, there is no doubt he would work as hard as anyone on the field, and he was always willing to learn from his teammates and coaches.
As a child, I never had that much confidence. I wouldn't have looked at a senior my freshman year, let alone joke with them. As I got older there were a couple of areas in my life my confidence grew- one was being a mom, and the other was being a teacher.
I always felt like I did a pretty good job at both of them, but like everything I've experienced in grief, I found myself completely doubting my ability in both areas after CJ died.
Losing my confidence in my ability to teach really surprised me though.
It was about two months after CJ died that I decided to go back to work. (For some reason, I have often viewed my life in grief through metaphors. I think it's your mind's way of trying to make sense of something so senseless.) When I decided to go back to work, I pictured myself just finishing a boxing match. I wasn't physically being hit and knocked down anymore, but I was completely stunned. I felt like I was living in a fog. My mind definitely didn't work like it had before. I couldn’t concentrate and completing tasks was so overwhelming- so my decision to return to teaching didn't come easy. I just couldn’t imagine it. I didn't feel like I had anything to offer my students. I felt like they would be better off with another teacher. I didn't even know if I could remember what I was supposed to be doing.
Eventually I came to the realization that CJ would expect me to live as he did. He would want me to face the challenge of going back to work and get back to doing what I needed to do…so that is what I did.
I knew it was going to be one of the most challenging things I had ever done- but I still can't believe the amount of fear I felt. I will never forget my first day back. I have never been so scared in my life. I don't know how to explain the feeling- it was just simply terrifying. I'm still not sure how I physically forced myself from the car, but I did. I am so grateful for my co-workers who carried me through that day and the difficult days that followed. I'm thankful for my teaching friend who gave me the "you can do this," pep talk as I prepared to walk into a room full of people for my first staff meeting. I am thankful for another colleague who checked in with me every day and let me pour out my heart even though I know it couldn't have been easy for her to hear. I am thankful for a former principal who offered to come with me when I had to receive my Covid shot knowing that it was at the same event center where we held CJ's funeral just two months earlier.
I'm so grateful for these acts of kindness that allowed me to find my footing and gain my confidence again. You never know when your kind act will change someone’s life. Returning to work was a turning point for me in my healing. I am so grateful for the people who made it possible. I will continue to try and pay it forward because I will ever be able to pay them back. ❤️❤️
Nicole
