Four years ago, I found myself in South India, participating in the foundation of a school in a small, poor community. The school taught English to all who came. The adult students became my friends, and with them I had many lively interchanges, but it was the children who captured my heart. They were so eager to learn. With only occasional lapses, they were devotedly present to the learning process.
Early on, roll call was eagerly anticipated by the children. They proudly stood and announced their presence, grasping the opportunity to voice a new-to-the tongue unfamiliar English word, the word 'present.' And truly present they were.
On one occasion, the youngest of my students popped to his feet to answer. Perhaps because of his youth, he had a tendency to be easily distracted, his attention flagging from time to time. That day he belted out his answer...ABSENT!!! The class erupted in laughter, perhaps only knowing that the wrong response had been delivered. How he came to learn his unknowing response, I could not guess.
Haris did not seem to be embarrassed by his mistake. His grin never faded. But he earned a nickname that day that stuck with him...'absent boy.'
As I have reflected on the scene from time to time, I realize that Haris taught me an
important lesson that day. In the midst of all the fascinating offerings life gives, I have a tendency toward scattered, if not completely shattered focus. Easily I can unconsciously become the absent boy, however well-intentioned I may be.
On the next page is a story I wrote about Haris and his family...
