CONNECTION IS EVERYTHING

Growing up in my small town in Wisconsin, I had a dream life.  I was a true “80’s” kid.  We had the Oliver Woods, the Sugar River, a backyard with flowers and blackberries.  I was surrounded by a loving family.  School was fun.  My friends were great.  We were always organizing a baseball game or an adventure and it felt like the sky was the limit.

By the time I was a sophomore in high school, however, I felt lost and utterly disaffected.

From my parent’s divorce to what I perceived as vanishing opportunities, what I needed was for someone to see me.  To connect with me in a way that was meaningful and impactful and honest.  To listen to me.  To hear my ideas, to hear how I synthesized information and to give me honest views, steady feedback, and support on my creativity.  I needed someone solid who actually cared.

I founded Ariser to give kids the foundation I had and the life skills and social-emotional skills I did not have. It is extremely important to me that the kids we work with have something else that I did not have growing up - a guide and mentor to stay connected with. The underlying foundation of our heart-based teaching model is - Connection is Everything.  

“Connection” is the 4th Module in our Teacher Training Course and is included in the Three Tenets of our work: “Centering, Presence, Connection.”  I’d like to give three use cases that show that “Connection Is Everything” featuring our Mentoring work.

Aidan. 

Aidan came into the learning center where I worked for some years with the biggest chip on the shoulder that I’d ever seen.  He walked through the doors looking like a wounded animal surveying the room for threats.  Heck, everyone was a threat. I could see it in his eyes.  I, too, had experienced that feeling before.  

The first thing I did was get down to eye level with Aidan and let him know directly “I am here to help.”  Once I had won a modicum of trust, we went away from the crowd of kids to a room that had a lot of space and windows.  I then gently offered and allowed a conversation.  There had been bullying to him and from him in multiple school settings.  Once he learned that I had divorced parents, the tears began to flow.  And I just held space.  I was present and I was with him.  Although I was in the role of teacher, I wasn’t above him or telling him what to do or trying to change anything.  I was offering a compassionate ear, honoring deep emotions, and staying grounded so we could feel safe in the experience of letting it out, and giving us a ground zero of regulation in my presence so we knew where we could land.

The way Aidan elucidated his feelings showed an extra level of intelligence.  He could voice how mad he was, how mad he was at everyone.  I said, “I see you, I get it, and I know what it is like to not be seen, and to be that mad.”

In Mindfulness class at the learning center, we had sheets outlining the body that we were coloring in to show feelings.  I grabbed a blank one.  I asked him to fill it out and use red for the anger.  

What I saw on the paper was that the red was all boiled up in his right shoulder and right arm, just like me.  I told him I had taken my anger out from my parent’s divorce by way of pitching in baseball because it was all in my right arm and that is how I let it out.  

At the end of our first meeting, we had established a bond. And because we were connected, in all subsequent work, Aidan listened to me, respected me, valued what I said, and I was able to give another level of care as we moved forward.  

The student he turned into in about six weeks’ time was one who I witnessed break up skirmishes, problem-solve for the whole class in our Bright Knights class, show deep compassion, think on different levels, and routinely meditate.

Finley.

Finley showed up one day at the learning center, his mom exasperated, some runny make-up from tears, with the look of someone who was experiencing the last ditch effort.  And it was.  “Regular school” didn’t work out, alternative schooling options weren’t working, and therapists were unable to reach her son. 

Finley’s face looked a combination of defiant and blank. His mom told me to do my thing and I comforted her and began the real job of teaching and childcare - Connection.

I asked many questions to try and bridge-build.  I offered some things in life that I like - basketball, surfing - to see if anything would take.  Math games?  Geography?  A fun story?  A fun line of questioning?  Nothing.

And right when you think nothing will work, right in that pause where only presence can fill the void, a breakthrough.  Finley began to offer what would later become a fantastical, elaborate well-thought out framework for “how everything worked.”  We would later build out a physical model of “how the body worked’” complete with tubes, fluid, and paper mache.  Da Vinci would have been impressed.

Why did I finally get a breakthrough?  I posit because he energetically knew I wasn’t wanting anything from him. I wasn’t looking for a result.  He knew my goal for us was simply to be with and together, to be connected.

The defiant, blank-faced naysayer had opened up and showcased his voice, ideas, and creativity.  During our time working together, Finley started doing better social-emotionally both at home and with his peers.

Gemma.

The start of my career in teaching and childcare started (unbeknownst to me) in 2008 when I was laid off from a factory job.  My friend Scott had also been laid off and right at that time, his girlfriend was pregnant.  A few months later, I saw my friend pushing a stroller by my apartment and I got to meet Scott’s daughter Gemma.  

Scott and Gemma would come over almost everyday from then on. From reading books to her to carrying her on hikes, Gemma and I started to develop a bond.  

One day, I noticed she had crawled away from playing blocks, but I was still playing blocks. It hit me in that moment that I was happy for the first time in a long time.

I got to be “Uncle Jimmy” and I recognized there was an innate talent emerging.  Perhaps it was from being the oldest of four, perhaps from taking permanent mental notes on grown-ups and teachers when I was young on what was working and what wasn’t, perhaps it can’t be accounted for.  One day Scott turned to me and said, “She loves you man.” 

Connection is a two-way street.  Because I also felt connected, joy and a sense of purpose had finally returned to my life.  As one of my mentors says, “We teach best what we need to learn most.”  Sometimes the helping hand we put out there ends up saving us.

Gemma graduates high school this year and we will be at her graduation party this summer.

At Ariser, connecting and bridge-building with kids is our primary focus.  Once the bridge is built,  we can help kids with social-emotional skills, academic pursuit, leadership, and so much more.  

(Kids’ names changed for anonymity)