…everyone is fighting some kind of battle.

This quote has been attributed in various forms to everyone from Plato to John Watson. Maybe it’s because it’s a universal reminder that needs repeating. I know I need to hear it more often, because I was harshly reminded of it this summer.

Last spring, I worked with a difficult professor in an advanced Creative Writing class. It was handled workshop-style, where each of us has class periods to reveal our heart-felt and delicately-forged story as we would the beloved child of our loins. Then ten to fifteen people talk about what works in the story (you hope at least SOMETHING worked) and what needs to be revised, and how you might improve it. Sometimes we show our baby and the class agrees it is ugly. This can be an uncomfortable process, and it was made much worse by my elderly professor who would snap, “This is crap.” “You’re not writing a believable character, do you even know the basics of character delineation?” “You’re writing bullshit. Write a REAL story.”

Honest professional feedback is absolutely vital to a writer, but this became so painful that some students stopped distributing their work in the workshops and avoided talking during class. Though I received some relatively positive responses, I was upset at this crabby, rude old professor who really hurt some young writers.

While talking with another English professor this summer, I mentioned my experience. And though he agreed with my perspective, he also gave me an additional one. It turns out this professor is one of many forced into an early retirement because the state of Illinois is considering cutting pensions. Unfortunately, this professor has neither a partner nor children, so his teaching was his life. And right before my semester started, he was diagnosed with cancer.

My heart crumpled up.

With our own lives devastated the past few years with every conceivable misfortune, I can understand how trouble causes someone to be irritable and withdrawn and how easy it is to forget that others are hurting, too. There were times when a kind word or action would have been a healing balm on my soul. It’s quite possible that the poor man felt his problems were so insurmountable that he was unable to see how he affected others.

I don’t mean to say that we should be kinder to others so that they are kinder to us. I am saying that we all need more kindness; kindness breeds more kindness, and there is never enough of THAT in the world. Though I may be absorbed in my own problems, when I encounter meanness, anger, irritation, or cruelty, I should look beyond the behavior into the beautiful, hurting soul that could use a little love.

Feel free to keep reminding me of this thought.