Letting Go

The plan was to go skiing this weekend. I watched the weather all week long. Took note of daily snowfall. Monitored the temperatures. The resort's website said the arctic clipper that had dropped temps to -20 or colder would sail off on Saturday; but then it changed. Miss Yupin and I discussed the possibilities of skiing in zero degree weather and decided it wasn't worth the gamble. We'd just wait for another couple of weeks.

Man, did I feel helpless. It's not a big deal, I know, but I kept coming back to me. The decision to abort haunted me. MY PLAN was not working out. MY PLAN was dead. Now what the hell was I going to do? Acceptance of the situation seemed out of the question. I was stuck. On facebook, I posted that I was in prison. Then I posted that the clipper had clipped my wings.

Friday afternoon, when I was supposed to be in the vicinity of Concord, NH, nearly half-way to Vermont, I was instead preparing to lead my fitness group in a game of dodgeball here at the boarding school. I was just out the door, heading to the gym with my bag of rubber balls when one of my advisees came over.

Cam (not his real name) said that he was under suspicion for a theft he had not committed. He wanted me to know that he had misspoken to the dean of students; that really he had had less money than he had previously stated. Could I help?

Help I could.

Today, after a number of conversations with the dean, I sent Cam home. He has been expelled from school for stealing $172 from one of his dormmates. Before he cracked, he offered at least five lies in attempts to cover his ass. Then, finally, he surrendered. He fell silent, and his face sank as he knew that he was done.

I told him that now he could get the help that he obviously needs. That he's not a bad kid, just a good kid who did a bad thing. That his parents will forgive him. That they'll take care of him. I threw every cliche in the book at him. He finally coughed up his confession--he stole the money right after my class, on Friday afternoon a week ago.

When it was all over, I turned to the dean of students and said, "I was supposed to be skiing this weekend." Funny irony, no? Because by now it had become abundantly clear that I was in fact supposed to be here. Dealing with my advisee. Helping him come to the point where he could admit that his life was unmanageable--or at least to the point where he could accept in some way the responsibility for his actions. I truly believe that had he not made this admission, he would be much worse off now. He'd still be expelled, but he'd also have that much further to go in terms of carrying on with his life.

I'm also pleased that I helped bring down a thief. Theives are insidious in a small community like that of our boarding school. They do not belong in the dorms. It felt good to recover the money and return it to its owner.

So, in the end, I'm grateful that the ole HP send arctic air our way and froze me off the slopes this weekend. I'm grateful to have had this opportunity to make a difference. I'm not sure how the difference will play out, but it feels good nonetheless to have been in the right place at the right time, open to guidance.