Image by Pheladi Shai from Pixabay
Many years ago, I was working as a coordinator in a private school in Defence, Lahore. There was a girl I still remember, even though the details of the incident have faded with time.
She was careless, or at least that is how she appeared to us. She was not serious about her studies, often in trouble, and always seemed to be testing boundaries. At that time, I used to say something I still believe: children can sense when you do not like them. They know. And once they know, it becomes a chicken-and-egg situation. Are they behaving badly because we have already judged them, or have we judged them because of their behaviour?
One day, something happened and I ended up speaking to her mother. I do not remember the complete context now, but I remember the mother’s worry very clearly. She told me her daughter was not studying and that she was concerned about her behaviour.
As we spoke, I understood a little more about their situation. The mother was divorced and living with her parents, raising her daughter within her family home. From what I understood, they were financially comfortable, but that did not mean her life was easy. In Pakistan, especially at that time, being a divorced woman with a daughter came with its own emotional weight, social judgement, and quiet limitations.
I could sense that the mother was hoping I might be able to help her daughter in some way. And honestly, I wanted to help too. I just did not know exactly how.
After school, my routine was to stand outside and keep an eye on everything while the children were leaving. There were other teachers on duty as well, but this was how things usually worked. One day, I saw this girl standing with her friends instead of heading home. I called her over.
I do not remember every word I said to her, but I remember the heart of the conversation.
I told her that I had spoken to her mother and that her mother was worried about her. I told her that I understood her mother was raising her alone, and that must not be easy. I said that her mother probably did not get the same opportunities that she had now. At that time, many girls were not encouraged to study or build careers. They were simply expected to get married and adjust to whatever life gave them.
I told her that I was not better than her mother. I was just luckier. I had parents who believed in my education and gave me the opportunity to become independent. Her mother may never have had that choice. Maybe life had been decided for her before she was old enough to understand what she wanted from it.
I told her that it was not her mother’s fault. Maybe no one had guided her. Maybe no one had given her the chance to imagine a different life. But she, the daughter, had that chance.
“You are in a good private school,” I told her. “You have an opportunity. Now it is your choice. You can study, work hard, become educated, and one day stand on your own feet. You can earn your own money and make your own decisions. Or you can ignore this chance and then regret it later.”
I also told her not to blame her mother for the things she could not give her. Sometimes parents are also victims of their own circumstances. Sometimes they are doing the best they can with what they were given.
The girl did not say much. In fact, I do not remember her saying anything at all.
But about a week later, her mother called me.
She said, “I don’t know what you said to my daughter, but she is studying now.”
That made my day.
At that time, I was not in a very good place in my own life either. I was dealing with my own struggles, my own worries, my own uncertainties. But knowing that I had made even a small difference in one young girl’s life gave me a sense of comfort I cannot fully explain.
It also made me think about my own attitude towards her.
I had not liked that girl very much. I had seen her as careless, difficult, and uninterested. But she was not just that. She was a child carrying a story I did not know. Her behaviour had a background. Her attitude had roots. There was pain, confusion, and perhaps even anger behind the way she showed up in school.
And that is true for so many people around us.
Everyone has a story. Sometimes people are rude because they are hurt. Sometimes children misbehave because they feel unseen. Sometimes people disappoint us because they themselves have been disappointed too many times.
This does not mean we excuse everything. But maybe we can make a little room for people’s background stories. Maybe we can pause before judging. Maybe we can offer a word of advice, a little patience, or a moment of understanding.
It may not always change someone’s life.
But sometimes it does.
And sometimes, in trying to help someone else, it changes something inside us too.
