by Shannon Penrod
Sometimes bad things happen. It’s a fact of life. For a while the world tilts and we all scramble to get a footing, attempting to understand why…why do bad things happen? I am fond of saying, “You are either the lesson or the student.” because I firmly believe that, if nothing else, it is important to learn something when bad things happen. This week I was the student.
I have been taking a class to learn more about ABA therapy and I found myself learning about something called “Errorless Learning” this week. This is a method of teaching a beginning skill that attempts
to ensure success by giving the student the answers. The idea is that if you are told the answer repeatedly at some point you will learn the lesson. This teaching method worked wonders for my son when he was just starting to get ABA therapy. He is a quick learner, unlike his mother.
Yesterday our family attended a memorial service for a dear friend of the family who was killed in a hit and run accident just a few days after Christmas. This was and is a terrible tragedy. Imagine a young woman who was lit from within by a thousand watt lamp, someone who danced in bare feet and celebrated every person, every life within the circle of her influence. Imagine that a life so precious could be extinguished in a moment, one horrible moment of total devastating tragedy. My husband and I sat in a room full of people yesterday, grieving the loss of this life and trying to find that toe hold on a tilting planet. How could this have happened?
I found myself thinking of the power of a moment. Everyday we all makes millions of miniscule choices that change our path, our schedule, our lives. Most of the time we are oblivious to the myriad of changes we set in motion when we make those tiny choices. It isn’t until something horrible happens that we see them like a shimmering web just out of reach, unchangeable, daunting. And there it is… the terrible lesson that there are no do-overs. It is horrible and humbling.
As the memorial went on I reached out and took my husband’s hand needing to touch him, to hold on to him. I felt the full weight of all I am blessed with. I swam in the gratitude of being alive and safe and loved. In light of this terrible sadness I could clearly see how unimportant so much of my day to day routine is. Perspective about what is important is so poignantly effortless in the face of tragedy.
I thought about errorless learning and could not escape the simple fact that time and time again life has shown me the answer – Be grateful, embrace life, tell the people you love how you feel because there are no guarantees. But have I really learned it? I don’t think so. Somehow it does not seem to stick. Sure, it does for a while and then life intrudes. There is always homework to be done, bills to be paid, laundry to be folded and time hurries on.
It does not escape my notice that it is called errorless learning, not effortless learning. Today I watched my son playing a computer game. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I wanted to drink him in. He will never, ever, be this age again. I stared at him until he looked at me and said, “What? Is there something wrong with me?” I hugged him and said, “No, you’re beautiful, just so beautiful.” He thought I was weird. Then when my husband came home. I told him I loved him, that I was grateful for having him in my life, for loving him and being loved by him. He wanted to know what he’d done wrong. I told him I was just trying to learn and we had a nice warm fuzzy moment. I cannot change the bad stuff, I wish I could. For now I need to attempt to get on life’s learning curve and attempt to make the lesson stick. In this moment I can and when all is said and done, it’s all about the moments.
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