Climbing the "graduation lawn" stairs to the SSB the other morning, I encountered a spider.
This spider.
Sure, spiders are commonplace. But this spider had grand ambitions. His web stretched from the first "S" in "Services" all the way to the handrail on the stairs leading to the doors. Actually, it was quite beautiful in its size and complexity, with the morning sun highlighting the intricacies of the spider's nighttime toils.
The only problem was where the spider chose to spin his web. He had expended considerable effort in creating one of nature's great works of art, but its location doomed it to complete failure. As I watched the spider continue to expand his web, out of the building stepped Gail from Admissions and a couple of student workers. They, too, shared my concern, stating that "we don't want to see him just stepped on." Acting on her worry for the spider's welfare, Gail devised a plan to protect the him. The students disconnected the web from the railing and Gail, with a file folder, gently coaxed the spider back up the web and into the safety of the curvature of the "S." Good deed accomplished.
As I think about this episode--a small gesture of kindness from individuals concerned about the safety of another living being--I realized that, in a lot of respects, the spider personifies many of the students with whom we come in contact on a daily basis. Our students work hard for their education, but sometimes they get off-track--they build their webs in the wrong place. Our efforts in that "moment of truth"--in listening, in showing understanding, in stopping to help, no matter how busy we may be--may make the difference to that student "being stepped on" or being guided to a safer, more supportive place.
This spider.
Sure, spiders are commonplace. But this spider had grand ambitions. His web stretched from the first "S" in "Services" all the way to the handrail on the stairs leading to the doors. Actually, it was quite beautiful in its size and complexity, with the morning sun highlighting the intricacies of the spider's nighttime toils.
The only problem was where the spider chose to spin his web. He had expended considerable effort in creating one of nature's great works of art, but its location doomed it to complete failure. As I watched the spider continue to expand his web, out of the building stepped Gail from Admissions and a couple of student workers. They, too, shared my concern, stating that "we don't want to see him just stepped on." Acting on her worry for the spider's welfare, Gail devised a plan to protect the him. The students disconnected the web from the railing and Gail, with a file folder, gently coaxed the spider back up the web and into the safety of the curvature of the "S." Good deed accomplished.
As I think about this episode--a small gesture of kindness from individuals concerned about the safety of another living being--I realized that, in a lot of respects, the spider personifies many of the students with whom we come in contact on a daily basis. Our students work hard for their education, but sometimes they get off-track--they build their webs in the wrong place. Our efforts in that "moment of truth"--in listening, in showing understanding, in stopping to help, no matter how busy we may be--may make the difference to that student "being stepped on" or being guided to a safer, more supportive place.