Several weeks ago I was asked to be an adult participant at one of my former middle schools at their Challenge Day. I had dropped by the school a few weeks prior to Challenge Day and was asked if I would like to be a part of it.
“What is it?” I asked the dean of students who presented it to me.
“It’s hard to explain, but your name came up when we were thinking of who we wanted to invite. It was on Oprah. Did you see that episode?”
“I’m not an Oprah watcher.” I admitted. I didn’t get into all that.
“Well, it’s a nationally recognized program where it’s one day when these two trainers come in and train the adults for 30 minutes before the kids show up. It’s got a lot of activities and it’s meant to help deal with the problems and issues kids have. There is tons of energy and group talking time and we’ve been told to provide all the tissues. Look it up online if you want. You’ll find more information there.”
At this point I was mildly scared but also intrigued. How would these kids, strangers to me and I to them, bond over the course of a day and come to trust me enough to tell me their deepest kept secrets? What could this possibly entail?
I’m glad I wore yoga pants and my running shoes that day. I needed them for all the wild, frenzied physical activities. Dancing, playing volleyball, and basically running around to introduce myself to 100 7th graders who thought that all the adults there had consumed a case of energy drinks that morning in order to be this excited. It wasn’t our fault. The group leader who trained us told the group that whenever they mentioned the phrase, “We’re getting ready to play another game!” we were to act as if we won the lottery or found out that we were going to be the special guest on Oprah or as if we were on the tv show “Extreme Makeover” and we had to show the same excitement those families show when they announce for them to Move. That. Truck. We all did it willingly. Jumping, screaming, clapping. Honestly, we looked like crazed lunatics and wouldn’t you know? It worked. They teach us that in order to get really deep with their feelings we first have to take them really high with our energy.
I regret, however, that I wore mascara that day. Because the tears from everyone flowed and dribbled like a raging river that seemed to have an endless supply of rushing water. It was my own fault, though. I mean, they told us that they’d provide the tissues. I should have known that the waterworks of tears would surge forth.
We’re not supposed to talk about what was discussed that day because it is intensely private and we can’t break confidentiality. The kids in my small group opened up immediately during their concentrated 2-minute talk time. No one in the group is supposed to spend that time speaking except the one who has the floor. There was to be no validation of their feelings, no fixing of their problems, and no interrupting. We all held to that rule. Only one girl spent the entire 2 minutes in tears. She never spoke about what it was she could have shared with us and the other adult leader and I simply offered her tissues and knee pats and it’s okays when we could. There were four kids in my group. Matt, the only boy, was incredibly forthcoming during his 2 minutes. He was such a spaz during the earlier activities that it surprised me as to how sensitive and vulnerable he became.
The games were frenetic and intense. We played a game of volleyball with an enormous blow up ball and the kids, split into two teams, had to stay seated the entire game. Adults lined up around the outside and pushed the ball back into play. We got points for catching the ball and holding onto to it if it came to us and that was hard because the ball was incredibly huge. There was a halftime show where the adult teams had to create a “show” to earn points. Since we only had 30 seconds to come up with it we decided to do the Stanky Leg while they played the song for us and it had been a long time since I made a complete fool of myself in front of strangers, but the kids seemed to love it. They laughed at us and snapped their fingers to the beat and even tried to do the Stanky Leg while they were seated. Let me pause here to say that it looked very much like having a seizure while sitting cross-legged on the floor. None of it, truly, was very pretty to watch. Funny, yes. Pretty, no.
Toward the end of the day we did an activity (a game, and yes, we screamed and clapped and jumped up to express our enthusiasm) that was, apparently, something they did in the movie version of the book “Freedom Writers”. The speaker puts a long piece of tape down the middle of the gym floor (have I mentioned that this took place in a hot, stifling, sweaty, stinky gymnasium?) and reads a series of statements. I believe that it is simply called the Line Game. The statements began benignly enough and became more intense as trust amongst the group members increases. By this time of the day, however, there was an incredible amount of faith in the group.
There is no talking during this ‘game’. No laughing and no joking. If the statement that’s read applies to you, then you simply move to the other side and face everyone who hasn’t moved along with you. In order to provide support we were instructed to show love to those who moved to the other side of the line. Whether it was a smile or a nod or even the sign language for “I love you”, we were to just support. When you’re on the non-moving side and you stay where you are because the proclamations don’t apply to you, then you hold up the “I love you” sign. It says it all. I’m here for you. I see you. I got you. I love you.
It shocked me to see some kids and adults moving across the line. Some of the adults I know as colleagues and I had no idea about the things in their lives that set them to become a moving member of “Challenge Day” and cross the line.
Cross the line if you’ve ever experienced the death of a close family member.
Cross the line if you’ve ever been scared in your neighborhood or even in your home.
Cross the line if you’ve ever heard gunshots.
Cross the line if you’ve ever been homeless.
Cross the line if you’ve ever been bullied. Or even if you have bullied someone else.
Cross the line if you’ve ever experienced abuse.
Cross the line if you’ve ever lived with violence.
Constant movement is going on during this ‘game’. Some people go back and forth multiple times and there were moments when my brain registered the thought, “Safety in numbers” as I watched the bravery and vulnerability of these people. Not just these kids. Or these adults. But, these people. There were tears and sometimes when people moved to the other side a friend would put their arm around them or hold their hand. And, of course, there were signs of “I love you” coming across from the other side. What we all learned was that we have more in common that we thought. You have to reveal some things about yourself in order to see that standing next to you is a person you may have bullied or teased or ignored or been mean to for no good reason. You have to admit your experiences and step out there. Everyone might know, when you do that, that you have shameful episodes in your life and that you have encountered pain and suffering. It is a woefully absent practice in empathy and it’s powerful.
Like everyone else, I moved back and forth across the line. There were times when I didn’t move and stood in my place holding up the “I love you” sign to the kids and adults standing across from me.
There was only one statement for which I was the only person who didn’t move. Everyone else moved over the line and stood there facing me, but I couldn’t lie or fake it, nor would I choose to do so. It surprised me somewhat that I stayed there and it’s not as if there is a lot of time to think deeply about my choices for staying right where I was. Two of the adult friends I knew there, Jenni and Sara, were really the only people who knew why I didn’t move. They both cried while looking directly at me just like I did when I previously saw them on the other side. Do you know that look people give you when they are sorry for what you’re going through? They gave me that look. Even Matt, the young boy who met me mere hours before, saw me standing there alone. He wasn’t directly across from me, but he moved to get there and pushed his way to the front so I could see him. When he arrived he firmly planted his feet and forcefully held his hand up in the air.
“I love you,” he said. Jenni and Sara said it, too. Many other people, mostly strangers, said it as well. They said it with a sign and didn’t speak it out loud at all.
Cross the line if you ever got to have a childhood and be a kid.
I couldn’t move from my spot and I couldn’t cross that line. It wasn’t true for me. I’ve been responsible for so long that I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have burdens and liabilities and functions to perform. Someone else always comes first. Things need to be taken care of. I’ve never known a time when there wasn’t something to do. The I’ll take care of it gene is entirely too strong in me. Be the adult and do the right thing permeate my fibers. And it annoys the shit out of me. Nothing can be done to undo it, either.
But it was healing, even if it was just a little bit, to admit it to them. And it’s a little bit more healing to write it here and share it with you.
I wasn’t even there and I’m crying. What a powerful experience.
I felt the swells come and couldn’t keep my tears in as I kept reading… what an amazing, life-giving experience. So moving.
Steph
Thank You. I see you. Feel you and love you too.
gut wrenching. thank you for this.
I would probably eventually move but I’d have to think about it.
What a day to have, Kelly. This killed me. I do indeed love you.
Wow. What a cool thing to be asked to participate in. I’m not sure I could have done that. I’m sure it made a HUGE impact on the kids…and adult participants. Powerful stuff.
Oh I would have been a big ball of tears at that thing! What a great and therapeutic concept. Do you think with these activities some students would be more sensitive to their fellow students and not give them such a hard time?
What a great day. Uncomfortable, to be certain, but an amazing experience, I’m sure. Thanks for sharing this with us.
How wonderful, Kelly.. This will make profound differences in the children and the staff. Sounds like an amazing way to learn more about yourself, too. Big hugs to you and all those kids..
Wow. That was amazing. I’m glad I wasn’t wearing mascara this morning.
Wow. Really beautiful. Thanks, Kelly.
Beautiful! I love you too
I’m sitting here in tears. What a powerful experience for everyone involved. I love you, too.
I gotta say, I posted this with a what-the-hell attitude because I wasn’t sure how it would be received. That was secondary to the fact that I just had to get this off my chest.
@DeLaMi – There were a few things I didn’t like about the program. One, that it was so late in the school year. We were going to rip open scabs and wounds and send these kids home for the summer with no support. Second, that junior high kids aren’t really very good at confidentiality. My friend, Jane, who teaches at that school said there were some problems afterward with that. Kids using information against one another. But at least for one day there was solidarity and when that takes hold and kids backslide we have to hope that they learn from it and retreat back to a place where they remember that their actions have consequences.
In all, it’s a great team building exercise. Schools should do it and have a plan in place to sustain the results, if possible. I’d do it all over again.
It sounds like it was an amazing and intense day. It makes me wonder if the schools in my area do anything like that.
I figured it would be a teary session that you would be telling us about… but I did not expect to need tissues myself! Dang woman, I love how you can put me right in there with you. By the time you disclosed the question that you couldn’t cross the line for, I couldn’t see the screen anymore.
hugz!
btw I went through a similar teambuilding/trustestablishing effort back in 2003 or so. .. I was pretty much unimpacted by all the bawling going on during a session similar to the 2minute talk thing you had: the talker was to provide sincere truthful compliments about the receiver who was not to say anything, just receive it all, and say Thank You at the end. I lost it when a co-worker said she wished her daughters were more like me.
this post is 100% not safe for work…I’m crying too reading it…but it’s good to know that the kids understand that you “get it”. Thank you for sharing this with us.
You should have told us to get some tissues…
although you did give fair warning that there was crying involved, and I’m one of the biggest crybabies around when it comes to your posts.
I think “wow” will have to do.
i think this exercise should be played with a group of parents as well. Though, I wouldn’t be playing instead I’d be the bleeding heart crying all over everyone.
and man do I look ugly when i cry.
Wow. What an amazing opportunity to give and receive. Bless you, and bless those other adults and kids.
My first thought was “ugh!’ remembering the team building activities I have experienced as a high school student and an employee. But by the end I had chills and I wanted to be you. I wanted to share real things with people. I wanted to connect.
Thanks for that!
Hugs,
susie
Sounds like an incredibly powerful day! Wow.
You are such a strong, brave woman that I admire and respect hugely. I truly wish I knew you in person — I think your core strength is amazing and the ability you have to continue to move forward in the face of huge trials and struggles is inspiring. Thank you for sharing — I needed you today.
Thanking God I’m not wearing mascara right now. And thanking you for sharing this.
This weblog is being featured on Five Star Friday! http://www.schmutzie.com/fivestarfriday/2010/6/18/five-star-fridays-108th-edition-is-brought-to-you-by-honore.html
Tears for this whole post. And I’m at work.
Love you.
Showing you the “I love you” sign.
You made me cry so hard. I wish I could have been there that day.
I love you.
I would have stood right there with you, not crossing the line. And I probably would have made you hold my hand.
SO. POWERFUL.
Thank you so much for sharing this.
In a way, and this is gonna sound weird, it sounds a little bit like an AA meeting, particularly the part about no interrupting, judging, or fixing. It’s a sort of pure empathy and forced compassion you just don’t experience out there in the real world. Maybe at my next meeting I’ll suggest kickball.
I’ve never heard of this program before now. Thank you so much for writing this.
Reading the proclamations brought me to tears; reading that the information was *used* by some broke my heart.
Great read – certainly gave me something to think about.
Wow, Kelly. What a day that must have been.
I’d have been sitting there with you when you didn’t cross that line. While I don’t like thinking about it much, I’m glad your post made me. Think about it. I think that it makes me really hard to live with quite often. So now I’m going to stop before I start crying and my husband wants to know what is up with me.
Thanks for sharing this. I think you’re awesome.
Love this post! I’ve been an editor for years, but I’m just now entering my last year of school so I can teach high school English. I’m always intrigued when I read about things like this. Do you think it would be better/worse with high school students? As a class-bonding activity at the beginning of the year? The English classroom is an environment where a lot of that stuff comes up anyway, so it might be beneficial to the class to get it all out in the open early on in the year.
Glad I found your blog!
I can think of so, so many schools and organizations that could benefit from a program like this. What an outstanding experience – thank you for sharing this.
Also? Hi! Delurking.
that’s one of the most touching things i’ve ever read about. what a tremendously loving program.
I am in tears. Thank you so much for sharing.
Oh, my! I am crying so hard right now because i am right there with you. I can’t remember not being responsible as well. I’m in my cube crying and sniffing because as a child I knew that I was missing something but I couldn’t do anything about it because I also knew someone had to be responsible.
Such a powerful day.
Kelly! I didn’t take your crying warning seriously. Dammit.
Sending love to you now!
We did this my senior year of high school, and I still VIVIDLY remember the experience and how it affected me and my peers. While there are many statements that were moving and significant in their own ways, the one that sticks with me the most was, “If you’ve buried one or both of your parents.” See, our Challenge Day was less than six months after my father had died, and my father was a prominent figure at my high school. Everyone stared at me as I crossed the line – the only student to do so at my upper-middle-class suburban high school. I sobbed and sobbed to be reminded of my status as an outsider, as the only one who’d had to go through this horrible thing that no one seemed to understand. But it was meaningful to see that they weren’t staring because they thought I was weird or because they were uncomfortable. They stared because they loved me and they had no clue how to show it. When I came back to the other side of the line, I was swarmed with hugs and love from my friends and classmates. That was a very special day for us all, and I’m glad you got to do it too. I think everyone should.
I am a freshman in highschool and I was one of the lucky few that was invited to the challenge day at my school this year and it was literally one of the best expiriences of my life, it chanted the way that I look at people and bad situations, it does get emotional and yes, you will most likely cry during it, escpecially during the cross the line activity, but it feels good to let that stuff off of your chest, the challenge day literally changed my life!
thank you for sharing this,i am a sophmore at a small school with only 100 students per class, i am corrdinating a challege day for my school, because bulling is such a promident thing in my school even for how small it is.I hope this has the same impact on my school that it did at the school that you were at.