One Direction

I keep putting off blogging because it's been so long and I feel like I need to write about everything that's happened in between now and when I last wrote. But, this isn't a journal. And not all things are interesting. And, no one wants to read that long of a post. Right?

So fast forward to now. Now when I'm sitting on duty in my dorm's main lounge and four Chinese boys and one girl are coloring in pages of the digestive system and trying to make a music video for a song that starts with chewing and ends with poop and is set to One Direction's "What Makes You Beautiful."

The girl is one of my advisees. Let's call her Mabel. She's failing Health class. The teacher, who is also one of the other dorm supervisors, gave them the assignment to write the song. The video is extra credit. A chance for Mabel to not be failing.  This weekend, every time I'd see her, I asked, "How's the video coming? Do you have the song written? How can I help?" She'd smile at me and nod. Then say, "Ehhh, I will work on it." English is Mabel's second language. Most kids learning another language don't have to learn words like masticate, esophagus, or rectal cavity. She's taking it a like a champ.

Yesterday, she came to my door as timid as a deer. I saw her walking up to the screen and it looked like she was going to veer off at the last minute, retreat to the kitchen downstairs. But she knocked, lighter than a knock, more like finger tap.

"How's it coming?" I asked.
"Could you help? Mabel asked.

Minutes later I was in her room watching a YouTube video of two girls explaining the digestive track to K$sha's "Tik Tok".
"does it have 2 use the scientific words? can it b funny?" I texted the teacher.
Mabel'd written "a song." It was just parts of her notes recopied. She said it went to "What Makes You Beautiful." I told her she needed a chorus.

It took everything (read: EVERYTHING) I had not to take her paper and write it for her. I like writing. I like creative projects. I like pop music. I wanted to write it soooo bad. Instead, I looked down at her gray-with-black-sketches-of-Paris-sites bedspread and said, "This song is about a boy singing to a girl. What if you sang to your body?"

She stared at me.
I gave her a first line. "Baby, you digest my food like nobody else."
She smiled.
"Why do you eat food?" I asked her.
"To get energy." She said after a very long pause and confused look.
"Right!" I almost shouted. "And what does energy and food do?"
Another pause. Another look. "Makes strong?"
"Perfect," I was practically gushing at this point. "How about 'The way you give me energy makes me very strong.'"
Another smile.
"I like it," she whispered.

And now there's a boy singing this song over and over in the dorm lounge. :)

I'm thinking again what great practice this is for me. Squelching my tendencies to take over completely and lead Mabel in one direction. To rewrite her song without asking questions. I know this is my way. I'm already doing it with Henry. When we used to walk to the park and I'd rush him to get there, thinking that was the point of the outing. Pushing him along as he put his tiny, round nose up to petals and blew air out. Telling him to turn around and walk when he pointed out the white and the dark, gray rocks. Looking at my watch when he counted the cars and trucks on the street. Maybe I'm mixing my sayings here:
Stop and smell the roses.
It's the journey not the destination.
Teach a man to fish...
But all of those remove haste. All of them mean thinking of something else, outside myself. All suggest asking different questions. Stopping and consideration.
Because that's what makes us beautiful. ;)