I was given an amazing opportunity to present to a school on the subject of ‘Reflection’. This school was trying to address some behavioural issues and decided that delivering a fortnightly skit on ‘good’ behaviour at assembly would be part of the solution.
I saw this as an excellent opportunity to present to the whole school and to share the responsibility that we each have with the way we are, how we affect others and what we reflect to others from our choices and our way of being.
I decided that I didn’t want to speak to or at the students, but I wanted to show them with simple, practical examples in order to generate responses from them.
After I got the whole school’s attention by raising my hand and waiting patiently for everyone to stop, to look and to listen, I spoke in a low, calm voice and they tuned into my every word. There was no need for a microphone or for me to raise my voice. This was all setting the tone and feel for the presentation, as it was about reflection, so I was taking responsibility for everything I was actually reflecting to them by bringing gentleness to the way I spoke, the way I walked, the way I looked and engaged with my eyes.
I asked the whole school to just watch, explaining that I was going to do the one action three times and they had to observe very carefully.
I asked the students to pay attention to:
- what they see
- what they hear
- most importantly, what they feel.
At the back of the hall I had 3 chairs and at the front of the hall I had 3 papers, 3 pens and a whiteboard.
Firstly I stormed to the back of the hall, my heels making lots of noise and magnifying the anger I was walking in: I grabbed a chair, stormed back with it, banged it down at the front of the hall, wrote something on the board aggressively and slammed down the paper and pen on the chair.
Secondly, after taking a moment to bring myself back to being gentle, I gently walked to the back of the room, bringing presence to every step and gracefully making my way to the chair. I walked with my head up and my posture correct. I caringly picked the chair up in a way that supported my body and with presence, walked it back to the front of the room, paying attention to the way and care of how I placed it down. I wrote on the whiteboard with gentleness, allowing myself to feel my fingertips as I wrote. I then placed the pen and paper on the chair with care, making sure it was where it needed to be.
Thirdly, I walked back down to the end of the hall with my head down and shoulders slumped with each step having a dragging, given-up feel to it. I then took hold of the chair and dragged it to the front of the hall in a disregarding way; I sloppily wrote on the board and just dumped the pen and paper on the chair.
From here I asked the children one question:
“Which one out of the three chairs would you like to sit on?”
They all pointed to the middle one and from the principal sharing with me afterwards, the kindy, pre-primary and year 1’s not only pointed but were up on their knees pointing to the middle one.
From here the discussion and communication was amazing. I opened it up and asked: What did you see? What did you hear? What did you feel? What did you observe and what happened to your body during each skit?
‘When you walked angrily I felt scared and didn’t want to be near you.’
‘When you walked gently I felt cared for.’
‘When you stormed down I could feel the floor move.’
‘When you dragged the chair it felt like you didn’t care’ and so on . . .
We were then able to discuss true reflection and how we affect others with the way we speak, the way we walk and the way we look. This presentation gave me an enormous appreciation for the power of reflection: the effect of what I presented to the students was astounding.
They really got it and participated fully, feeling the power of what I shared. Another awesome confirmation happened the next day in my year 6 class – the first girl who walked in said ‘I am going to do what Ms did yesterday with my chair’ and six others followed her doing the same. The ripple effect!
Inspired by the true reflection, work and presentations of Serge Benhayon, the practitioners of Universal Medicine and the student body.
By Johanna Smith, Waikiki, Perth WA
Bachelor of Education (Major Special Needs, Minor Psychology), Graduate Certificate of Early Childhood, Practitioner of Esoteric Therapies, Wife, Mother, Teacher, Practitioner, Writer
Serge Benhayon – A Real Example of Walking the Talk
Inspired by Serge Benhayon & Universal Medicine: Feeling the True Me
We teach more by reflection than by words
What a way of living we currently have where we have to share such simple ways of living so others get to feel what it is like to be in our bodies. Thank you Johanna, this standard of teaching should be normal and natural world-wide.
True education for life.
‘When you walked gently I felt cared for.’ This line sums up how beautiful true responsibility is when we take care of ourselves lovingly first, and then bring a supportive loving quality to our every movements.
The ripple effect of reflection can last a lifetime, or lifetimes.
What an amazing way of presenting and teaching children, I know all children would love this presentation, as they can relate, and it makes so much sense, whilst confirming them in their feelings.
I love how you interact with the children, and the way you confirm what they are feeling and innately know.
Such a cool experiment that shows we feel much more than we see. How confirming for those kids to witness.
An amazing opportunity offered to all those children to feel that they all each hold a power and that through how they choose to move, talk and express the power of love or lovelessness is communicated which has a direct impact on everything and everyone around us.
Yes, the children were offered so much in this presentation, ‘We were then able to discuss true reflection and how we affect others with the way we speak, the way we walk and the way we look. This presentation gave me an enormous appreciation for the power of reflection: the effect of what I presented to the students was astounding.’