Believe me, don't be afraid

There is a boy in the third grade.  He shakes. Not all the time, the radius is about five feet I think. I come within five feet from him and he will put his eyes down and it's like someone is singing just the right pitch to rattle his glass bones.  I asked my coteacher and she says he does the same with her so it isn't because I am exotic.

Last night I was coming home on the subway and the old woman sitting beside me, (I stood), poked me in the back.  She bradished a religius leaflet and spoke Korean.  The only words she said in English were 'heavenly mother'.  I said "I'm sorry, I only speak only a little Korean." More truthfully, and more telling, I actually said "I feel shame, Korean little." She went on regardless and I, polite, followed along. The woman beside her said she felt sorry for me with her eyes.

The old woman was so sure of her heavenly mother. What did language matter. The spirit of this would certainly sink into me. She motioned several times for me to phone a number   a number on the back of the pamphlet.  I am certain there would have been no English on the end of that ine either.

This is how I feel about the boy though. I am desperate to take him aside and assure him that I beyond anyone should not shake him. Certainly my good intentions will shine through the awkward gape in language.

Of course not.

 I wish you could see this kid though. He shakes like a roll on a snare drum.