Imagine You’re in a Box.
Yesterday was Shane’s birthday party. It never occurred to us that we would be in the midst of a crippling-the-city snowstorm.
Shane does not have a lot of friends. He is, instead, careful about the people he chooses to befriend – and as such, cares deeply for every one of them. Eight out of ten invited kids struggled through the snow to get here. The party was an absolute success.
I was watching them play together – a mass of 9- and 10-year-olds who were as likely to sit quietly and play as they were to tear apart the house. I know enough to have games scheduled, so they only tore apart the house in organized fashion – but the sit-down games were my favorite, because I was able to learn so much more about them.
One characteristic stood out above all others: Shane’s friends are smart. They are just a step or two deeper than what one would expect of fourth graders. There wasn’t a lot of talk about video games, or television. They used some creative toys in very creative fashion. And the jokes were almost adult in their intelligence.
One boy said, “Imagine you’re in a box. How do you get out?”
From my post in the corner I thought, Gee, I don’t know. What kind of box is it? Why am I there? Why can’t I get out?
Without even a beat, another boy called, “Stop imagining.”
“Right!” said the first boy. Someone didn’t understand, so he explained. “I said imagine you’re in a box. If you want to get out, just stop imagining.”
Maybe this is a popular fourth-grade joke, but I sure didn’t hear it when I was in fourth grade.
Later, it was time to break out the building toys. After cake, we had almost an hour scheduled for building. Shane wanted to make card towers and build with dominoes – so some kids did that. We also pulled out the Lego bin, and the boys swarmed all over them. Some of the vehicles sitting on my kitchen table today are awesome. And the domino tracks (which were occasionally knocked over by our dog) were also spectacular.
One boy, possibly Shane’s best friend in the world, wandered over to the bookshelf and found some incredibly hefty scientific books to study. This is a boy who has awed me with his discussions of symbolism in C. S. Lewis’ Narnia series.
The kids cleaned up before they left – without even being asked. All of them!
And these are Shane’s best friends in the world. They are kind, polite, incredibly funny, sweet and brilliant – just like Shane. They aren’t all in his class, or even in his school, but he hangs onto their friendships – in his heart mostly – just enjoying the company.
I can remember Shane playing completely and utterly alone during recess in kindergarten. Watching him for the first time, I was stunned. When I was in kindergarten, I always played alone. I didn’t have a real friend until fourth grade – and then just one. Like Shane’s friends, my one friend was bright, kind and sweet. And I hung onto her friendship until 7th grade, when I suddenly decided I needed to be cool and get new friends.
I regret it, and miss her to this day.
So I worry about middle school, and what effect it might have on Shane’s reaction to his awesome friends. But I also talk to Shane, all the time, about how hard middle school can be. I talk about how it’s more important for him to love his friends unconditionally than it is to try to be what the other kids might want him to be.
And then I sit back and watch him interact with his awesome friends, and I wait and hope for the best.