Little Heartquakes
How I learned some important life lessons from children while volunteering at an English camp
Author’s Note: Names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals mentioned in this story.
heartquake (n) A gentle and unexpected shaking of your heart as a result of encounters with people who touch your soul. The aftermath of a heartquake may leave you with a shift in perspective and attitude. Unlike an earthquake, it may stitch together the cracks along your heart and make it feel whole again.
1.
The room erupted into applause as Kenta, the 12-years old boy with big round glasses, handed me back the microphone. He looked up at me, his eyes worried and uncertain, searching for something. As my fingers wrapped around the talking piece, I was surprised to find it slick with sweat. In that moment, I saw past the illusion of confidence he had conjured up for everyone else in the room. Had everyone been silent, I might have been able to hear the sound of his heart beating wildly against its small cage.
That realization jolted me into action. I looked into his eyes and gave a reassuring nod. I smiled and said, “Good job!” It may have been a simple gesture but his small smile and bright eyes told me that it’s exactly what he needed.
Moments like these reminded me that even those who look the most confident and put together may need to hear words of encouragement and affirmation sometimes.
2.
Tears were streaming down Yumi’s face and she kept rubbing her eyes in a futile attempt to stop herself from crying. There was an untouched plate of food on the table in front of her and she looked small in her seat. I knelt down beside her and asked if she wanted to go to the restroom to wash her face. Sniffling and breath coming out in short gasps, she nodded her head.
When she finished washing her face, I asked her to sit with me for a while.
“Can you tell me why you are crying?” I asked.
Silence.
Then, she started crying again.
I felt that she might feel more comfortable to communicate in her mother tongue. So I said, “Nihongo de mo ii yo (You can speak to me in Japanese).”
“I am sorry for disturbing others by crying,” she replied in Japanese.
“Aww.. It’s okay, your friends won’t mind,” I reassured her.
We continued the conversation in Japanese, Yumi explaining why she cried due to the frustration of not being able to express herself well in English.
After a while, she started to calm down.
“Are you ready to go back?” I asked.
She nodded, blinking away her tears.
As we got ready to leave, she looked me in the eyes and gave me an unexpected compliment in English, “Your Japanese is very good.”
My heart was filled with respect and admiration for this young child, for thinking of others even when she’s facing a challenging time. Sometimes, we are too consumed by our own pain and sadness that we forget to think about others. A 9-year-old girl taught me that you can still care for others and make them feel good even when you are not feeling so good yourself.
3.
It didn’t take me long to notice Daiki because he stood out from the crowd. Based on my first impression, I thought he could be a potential troublemaker with his random shouting and inability to sit still for more than a few minutes.
Later, I asked his group leaders how it was like to interact with him. To be honest, I was expecting answers along the lines of how challenging it was. But they told me that while it could be challenging to control his behaviors sometimes, they also noticed that he had a kind and caring personality. They shared with me their observations about how he helped and cared for his friends in the group. From that moment on, my perspective shifted. He was no longer just the boy who randomly shouted loudly and could not sit still. Yes, he continued to do those things but I also started to notice moments where he showed laudable personality traits of kindness and compassion.
I learned from the boy and his group leaders to keep my eyes and ears open so that my heart and mind can be open as well. Sometimes, we are too quick to make our own judgments about someone based on what we think we know about them. But if we want to truly get to know people, shouldn’t we acknowledge that people are neither one-dimensional nor static? They have different sides that we may not be aware of and they are also dynamic beings, with the ability to grow and change for the better. Keeping that in mind, it might change the way we reach out and connect with people — with more patience, understanding and compassion.
Years from now, these young children will most likely forget about me. And I will probably also forget their names and their faces as I get older. But the impact of these little heartquakes from our brief encounters will stay with me for a very long time to come.
