Finding Beauty in Contrasts

By Cindy Reitzi

November 2004

The challenge is to be yourself in a world that is trying to make you
like everyone else. - Anonymous

I grew up awkward. I was not a “good fit” with my family of smart pragmatists. They appreciated schedules and certainty; I appreciated abstraction and ambiguity. I felt misunderstood, and although I was extremely uncomfortable at the time, my awkwardness eventually morphed into an insight I came to realize was a gift. My family inadvertently gave me an appreciation of differences I wouldn’t have today if this part of my life had gone smoothly.

The concept of appreciation, in say, literature, doesn’t require that you like the book you’re reading, although I’m sure that helps. It does require that you seek to understand it. So it is with our differences as people.

We’re not all alike, and we don’t all agree, much as we might like to. But sometimes challenging ourselves to understand leads to appreciation. There’s a certain beauty in contrasts.

I often gravitate to the “different” students, the ones who not only march to a different drummer, but who are hammering out a whole ‘nother tune in the percussion section. Call it my quirky side, but part of me just thinks they’re interesting; part of me recognizes that some teens, who face various identity challenges, just need to make more pronounced statements to define themselves, whether it’s fashion statements like blue hair or an alternative value system. The way I see it, there are much worse things teens can be doing than dressing like vampires.

One sociable student maintained that she really was a vampire for a time. Her case manager dryly remarked that one day she simply decided she wasn’t a vampire anymore.

“How did she make that breakthrough?” I wondered.

“She decided she couldn’t be a vampire because then she couldn’t come to school during the day.”

“Good thinking,” I chuckled, appreciating how she reasoned her way out of that difficult phase. I was also glad that she liked school enough to cut the vampire act.

Most “alternative” students don’t go to such extremes of playacting to define themselves. They quietly insist on self-identity.

“Rose” initially seemed a bit standoffish and persisted in tucking herself in a deep left corner pocket of the room. She didn’t seem shy, just insistent. I maintained a friendly posture but left her alone enough to decide about the class and me.

One day, Rose gave me a “Tuesday report,” a sports report for student athletes. Teachers indicate the student’s grade (whether they are passing or not) and fill in pertinent comments.

As I signed it, I asked, “So, what sport are you in?”

“None.” I tilted my head quizzically at her.

“I just wanted to see if you’d sign it,” she grinned.

I laughed out loud at her little joke. “I see you’re going to keep us on our toes in this class.”

It turns out Rose had an “old soul” in a young body. She was a sensitive thinker whose writing and responses in class revealed depths atypical of a 9th grader. She was also a vegan, a strict vegetarian who doesn’t eat dairy or eggs, which also set her apart. Even though my own eating habits are a sharp contrast to vegans, I admired her choice nonetheless since it took a great deal of thought to commit to this kind of lifestyle.

A short time later, Rose’s mother visited for parent-teacher conferences.

When you initially meet a parent, it’s an interesting moment. The first impression on a parent’s face can offer clues to whether your student talks about school at home, likes your class, or thinks you’re Satan. She approached me with intense electricity.

“Thank you!” she said gratefully.

“For what?” I asked smiling tentatively, wondering.

“For making Rose feel comfortable … in English class.”

“Really?” I said. I listened more.

Her worries for her daughter poured out, “She…she had a lot of trouble in middle school. She didn’t fit in very well…”

“She’s a great kid. What’s not to like?” I said shrugging, “She’s smart, sensitive, a thoughtful writer…”

We continued to talk about Rose and her vegan lifestyle.

“You know, I’m really impressed with her commitment to be a vegan. That’s not easy, especially for a teenager. It took a lot of thought…”

“Commitment,” her mom repeated pensively and brightened, like a writer who’s found the exact description to express an idea.

“I like Rose,” I reassured her mom, “we get along. Besides, I’m pretty quirky myself,” I said with a grin.

There’s a certain beauty in the awkward fit that challenges us to ponder a different perspective or world view. A round peg in a square hole may not fit, but in the contrast, we can certainly gain appreciation for the round as well as the square.

Posted October 26, 2004