Trust

We all know the “trust game”.  One guy stands erect, crosses his hands in front of his chest, falls back, and trusts that his friend will catch him as he falls.   The test is “do you trust your friend” to catch you?  Over the years I’ve been comfortable being the catcher, but I’ve never been the guy who “trusts the catcher”.   I know – it’s a flaw.

We are asked to trust many people in our everyday lives – police, politicians, doctors, repairmen for all kinds of products – cars, computers, appliances,  and anything that has a switch or a gizmo.  The list is endless.

The greatest example of trust that I am privy to involves my wife, Ruth, and one of her students.  If this isn’t the greatest example of trust that you’ve ever heard, I’ll let you be my “trust fall catcher”.

Ruth taught for the Adrian Public Schools for several years.   They originally hired her to teach one hour a day.  The second semester they increased her work load  to a half day and the following year she was full-time.  She built the program because she was good at what she did.  Her original assignment was home economics.  (that’s long gone and a terrible decision)  They added interior design, independent living, child development, and sex ed.

Most classes were a semester long and the demand for her program grew. She went from one class to two full-time teachers within a period of three years. Phenomenal growth.

She planned many of her lessons at home and I expect that our three “students” have a number of stories in their memory banks about our dinner discussions.  While I would ask “what if” questions i.e. “What would you do if someone offered you a ride at the bus stop?”    Ruth had “show and tell”.  She spoke of STDs and had pictures with stories to back up her presentation.  She was very specific in her use of language.  Boys have a penis, not a pecker.  Girls have a uterus and vagina, not a hoochee.  Every discussion came with graphs and diagrams.  That was our dinner table life.

One summer afternoon, while I was still the elementary principal in Addison, I answered our phone.  A male voice asked if Mrs. Tebo was home.  The voice sounded young and anxious.  I told him “yes” and called Ruth to the phone.   I stayed in the room and listened to Ruth’s end of the conversation.  As the telephone call developed, I could tell that the young man needed help and the person he chose to turn to for guidance was his teacher.

Ruth:  “Hello?”

Anxious boy:  …

Ruth:  “Oh, hello, anxious boy, how are you?  Are you having a good summer?”

Anxious boy: …

Ruth:  “Yes, I remember our discussion of condoms.”

Anxious boy: …

Ruth:  “Yes, sometimes they break and if they do pregnancy is always a concern.”

Anxious boy: …

Ruth:  “Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s pregnant.   But it is possible.”

Anxious boy: …

Ruth:  “If she is pregnant then I believe that it would be best if she told her parents.  She may want you to help with that discussion.  The two of you should talk about that and decide what the best approach would be.”

Anxious boy: …

Ruth:  “I would wait until you know that she is pregnant.  There’s no reason to cause concern with her parents until you know that.  If she’s not sure then the best thing to do is to have her go to her family doctor to confirm the pregnancy.  If she doesn’t have a doctor, I can help you find one. How long has it been since her last period?”

Anxious boy: …

Ruth:  “How long has it been since you had sex?”

Anxious boy: …

Ruth:  “This happened thirty minutes ago?   The condom broke thirty minutes ago?”

Anxious boy: …

Ruth:  “If this just happened, I don’t think you need to do anything right now.   You both need to relax.  Chances are she’s not pregnant and worrying about it could cause her to miss her period.”

Anxious boy: …

Ruth:  “I’m glad you called.  Just relax.  Time will tell if you have anything to worry about.  You can call me any time.

Anxious boy: …

Ruth: “You’re welcome.  Good-bye.”

As I listened to Ruth’s words, a picture formed in my mind.  I saw a naked, teenage boy sitting on the edge of a bed with a broken condom in one hand and a telephone in the other.  I saw a young girl  wrapped in a sheet in the fetal position, listening to her boyfriend seek advice from his teacher.   The boy hung on every word that the teacher spoke. At the most vulnerable time in his life he needed help, and the person that he trusted most was Mrs. Tebo.

If that’s not the greatest example of trust you’ve ever heard, you can be my “trust fall catcher”.

Oh, I almost forgot.  She wasn’t pregnant.  The two married, but not each other.  Every  once in a while I read about the boy and the successful man he has become.  I expect that he remembers that call and Mrs. Tebo.  After over thirty years, I know I do.