Page 118 - She's One Crazy Lady!

I felt empower“
“I want to be back at school to teach you”, I said. Yes, I simply had to return to school. A sense of calm prevailed but the chatter did not. They reminded me they were moving on to their secondary schools but said they understood what I meant.
We sat together on the cushions until lunch time. We talked non-stop – suddenly, they all seemed so mature and grown up. Mostly we talked about cancer; their experiences; their thoughts. It was so revealing, and they were so genuinely knowledgeable about the disease – and others. There was no sadness. We also talked about illnesses they had had; their experiences of being in hospital; their fears and thoughts about death; their own stories of death and serious illness in their family. We should never underestimate how much children know and how well they understand such adult situations. I felt empowered by their openness and their honesty. These wonderful children were just the tonic I needed, and I knew I would get through this. They didn’t offer sympathy; they didn’t fuss after me; they were confident I would be alright. They were also hungry and wanted their lunch! Highfield’s children were something else! All this seemed so natural.
ed by their openness and their honesty. These wonderful children were just the tonic I needed, and I knew I would get
through th”
is.
One of the quieter children in the class had asked such a direct, yet most simple, question:
“Miss Hooper, what is cancer?”
I had to think carefully how to answer this, then
inspiration came. I asked another pupil to go along to the staffroom, to look in the fridge and to bring back a punnet of strawberries that I knew to be there. A cheer went up. They thought they were going to eat them. No. Thinking on my feet (or my bottom, on this occasion) I was praying that one of the strawberries on the top was ‘on the turn’ or rotting. I explained to the children that in our science lessons we had found out that all living things are made up of cells and sometimes certain cells can do their own thing, as in fruit, making it go bad. The strawberries arrived and there, on top, was a ‘bad’ strawberry. They were intrigued. I went on...
“Look, one of these strawberries is bad. If we don’t take it out of the punnet, what will happen to the others?”
“My grandma died of breast cancer Miss.”
“My Mum had to go and see a doctor about her boobs.”
“Miss, have you told your Mum and Dad?”
“Are you scared?”
“Are you going to die Miss Hooper?”
With fingers crossed behind my back, I assured them I had no desire
to die and that the nurses and doctors would look after me to ensure I would be back in school.
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In one voice, they shouted: “They’ll all go bad!”