Tiny Humans, Big Impact

As the oppressive clouds of stress envelop me, the eyes that once gazed upon the color of
life began to dull. The hopeful color of my future began to escape me, and the chilled uncertainty
of failure welcomed me into its arms. Old memories became distant, and new memories incited
innate sadness. This has been one hell of a year. As family dwindled and love pained every
thought, the lure of sleep, death without commitment, became increasingly attractive. I began
drowning softly, yet effectively. With evey exhale, a piece of my spirit disipated. Hope was a
construct of distant implications. Despair became me.
Although that intro was overtly grim, I assure you the words used only scratched the
surface of the state I was in. The peak of this depression coincided with the beginning of my
internship. When I say that this internship saved my life, I mean that in the most impactful way
possible. In the summer prior to this school year, I signed up for VTFT because I heard that it
was legitimately the easiest class you could sign up for. As a terminal sufferer of procrastination
and laziness of course I signed up for the class. As I kicked my feet back and began to settle in
to an easy year, events around me abruptly halted this peace. I love my mother, and I love my
family. I love playing soccer, and I love my friends. The love I share for so many different things
caused a pain ineffable to the tongue. Heartbreak is an understatement, for my world was a
dumpster fire of a bleeding heart.
It all started when my Aunt Bridget was diagnosed with Stage 4 terminal lung cancer as a
Christmas gift. To make things even better, she was even gifted with the knowledge that her life
would end in a year if not months. Dont get me wrong, I love Bridget with all my heart, but her
inevitable death wasnt causing the grunt of the pain. Bridget was more than just a sister to my
mother; she is her best friend. Watching my mother inhale the diagnosis was like watching
someone reach in her chest, cracking each and every rib, and promptly ripping out her heart and
anything in the vicinity of it. That killed me. The bond a daughter has with her mother is built
with Valerian steel, thus to say the least I was hurting. Shortly after this heart wrenching
Christmas ordeal, I got a call from my mother while I was in calculus she never calls me in
school. Naturally I knew something had gone terribly wrong. I thought to myself, This is it, my
Aunt Bridget is dead. I answered the phone and received the telling of a sick twist of fate. My
Aunt Missy, who also happened to be my God mother, had died in her sleep the previous night. I
immediately scurried off to the bathroom, and fittingly sank to my knees and wept. People I
loved were dropping like flies, and my tiny little heart succumbed to the depression. To escape
this sorrow, I genuinely use soccer as an anchor to my happiness luckily for me I was dealing
with the workings of a torn hamstring, thus my escape from sadness had promptly shut its doors.
I hit rock bottom, and then fell to the center of the earth. The gravity of the situation pinned me
low, and my innards began to crumble. I condemned myself to my bed, for leaving the safety of
my comforter was something I was incapable of doing. This distanced me from school, thus also
my friends. I was physically and emotionally alone, and that is a dangerous place to reside in.
Then I had to start going to school again because I was required to go to my internship. So
needless to say, I went. I carried the weight of a thousand elephants on my back as I rolled out of
the safety of my bed and into some running shorts. I put my shoes on one foot at a time, and I left
my house for the first time in a while.
Tiny Humans, Big Impact

Walking into a classroom of an army of tiny humans, my heavy heart instantly became
lighter, for as their eyes gazed upon mine, I could feel the color seeping back through the clouds.
Just by being in a classroom with such bright young minds, somehow I could forget about
everything that could possibly kill my vibe. A sea of vibrancy flowed into my heart, my mind,
and my soul. The easy class I signed up for because of chronic laziness began to heal the open
wounds of depression. Each day as I came, and I went, the load got lighter and the days got
easier. I could cope with everything. Watching a kid named Zander dispel about the magical
qualities of potatoes somehow cured me in a way no doctor ever could. As Daisy gripped my leg
to stop me from leaving, I felt love in a way no romance could ever prescribe. As Bennett, the
boy with one leg, tells me that he wants to run track because I run track, I was humbled in a way
no person has ever been. The complexity of my situation was healed with the magical ponderings
of a potato. On the surface one cant fathom how a simple internship with kids could rid
someone of such problems, yet for some reason I was saved by some kids who had no idea they
were helping.
I could say that I learned how to better my classroom management through this
internship. I could also say that this internship taught me how to write and enact a lesson plan.
While these changed me from the administrative side of becoming a teacher, this internship truly
changed me in a way I never thought possible. Through working with the kids for an hour every
day, I could escape the tight clutches of innate sadness. I changed from feeling hopeless, to being
able to cope with the hardships I have faced. Regardless of whether or not I become a teacher is
irrelevant to me. This experience has thoroughly taught me how to live again, and for that I am in
debt to the tiny humans for the rest of my life.