Piercing the Darkness (35 page)

“First the sawdust drains from your head . . . then from your neck . . . then from your chest . . . You just start sinking, sinking, sinking toward the ground . . .”

Kate watched the clock on the wall. So far they’d been lying on the floor for ten minutes.

The music kept playing. Miss Brewer came to the end of her soothing, lilting monologue. She paused, looked around the floor at every child, and then proceeded with some softly spoken instructions.

“Do you hear a babbling?” Then she whispered, “Listen! Do you hear it?” She took a moment for the kids to listen. “It’s coming closer now, isn’t it? It’s your new friend, your wise person; they’ve come to
talk to you. Let your friend appear on your mental screen. What is your friend’s name?”

Kate scribbled just a few words to guide her memory. Most of the details of what she was now witnessing were familiar to her.

“Pick a room for your friend; make up a room in your mind to be your new friend’s house. Make it something just right for them. Now talk to your friend, your very own wise person. Remember, your friend knows all about you . . . how you feel . . . what you like . . . what you don’t like . . . all your problems and hurts . . .”

The exercise lasted another fifteen minutes or so, and the silence in the room was impressive for this age group. At last, after a predetermined amount of time, Miss Brewer counted to five slowly and then snapped her fingers. The children seemed to wake up from a trance, and sat up.

“Very good! Now we’ll all take our seats and the monitors will pass out some paper. We’ll draw our new friends.”

The children folded the blankets, put away the pillows, hung up the coats, then returned to their desks. One child from each row passed out drawing paper. Under Miss Brewer’s firm but kind guidance, the children got out their crayons and began to create portraits.

Miss Brewer walked up and down the rows, surveying each child’s progress. “Oh, what a nice-looking friend! What’s that on his head? Stars? He must be a marvelous creature!”

Kate took a short tour herself. The children were drawing ponies, dragons, princes and princesses, and some rather frightening monsters as well. They all received praise and compliments from Miss Brewer.

One little fellow showed Kate his picture. “This is Longfoot,” he said. “I’m going to keep him in my mental basement.”

The picture was typical fourth-grade artwork, but recognizable as a giant, lumbering figure with large feet.

“Look at his huge feet,” Kate said playfully. “What does he do with those big feet?”

“He stomps on my mom and dad and all the big kids.”

“Oh my.”

A little girl turned to join the conversation, holding up her drawing for Kate to see. “See my friend? He’s a dragon, but he doesn’t breathe fire. He spits out jawbreakers!”

“Oh, and did you meet him today?”

She shook her head a little sadly. “No. He already lives in my head; he’s been there a long time, and we’re friends. I couldn’t see my new friend today. I heard him, but I couldn’t see him.”

“Look at my picture!” said another little girl.

Kate walked over to take a look. Then she took a longer look.

The child had drawn a big-eyed, chubby-cheeked pony. The drawing was exceptional.

“This is Ponderey,” she said. “He’s my inner guide.”

“A pony . . .” said Kate in wonder. She smiled. “That’s a wonderful picture, honey. You draw very well.”

“Ponderey helps me. He loves to draw.”

Kate took her seat again in the back of the classroom and jotted down a few more notes, even though her hand was a little unsteady. She was so upset, she feared losing her quiet, professional manner.

Before long it was time for recess; the children filed out in a neat line until they reached the door to the playground. Then they abandoned the building like sailors from a sinking ship.

Miss Brewer sank into her chair at her desk and sighed with a big smile. “Well, that much of the day is over!”

Kate approached her and found a chair nearby. “They’re a wonderful group.”

“Aren’t they, though? This is a great year for me; the kids in this town are really special!”

“The creative exercise was something special too; it evoked a lot of response.”

Miss Brewer laughed out of pleasure and pride. “It’s an adventure every time. Kids can be so creative, and there’s just such wisdom and insight locked up in each one of them. You never know what they’ll uncover.”

“And what do you call this? Isn’t it like Whole Brain Learning?”

“Sure. That’s part of it. But most of the concepts and exercises are from the
Finding the Real Me
curriculum. It’s a tried and tested program, and it includes the best of the proven theories now in use. It’s very comprehensive.”

“Well, what’s the underlying principle to all this?”

Miss Brewer smiled. “You’re not a parent, are you?”

“No, just a curious citizen. Like I said on the phone, I’ve heard a lot about what you’re doing here, and I thought it would be interesting to watch.”

“Sure. Well, of course our perspective is that each child should be free to achieve his or her own highest potential, and that takes a certain measure of creative and intuitive freedom. Too often an educator can stifle that potential by imposing a particular rule of behavior or truth upon the learner when the learner should be experiencing his own realities, creating his own concept of the world.

“We’ve found that relaxation and visualization exercises are a real key to untying each child, setting him free to start his own process of becoming. Human consciousness, even in a child, carries an incredible wealth of knowledge that no traditional classroom could ever cover even in a lifetime. That knowledge is available to each child from his own inner wisdom. We don’t teach the child how to feel or how to perceive truth. All we have to do is show him how to unlock his own wisdom and intuition, and the rest just happens.”

“And that’s what you were doing today?”

“Well sure, exactly. We only use about two percent of our brain anyway. When we teach the children how to tap into the vast resources hidden in the rest of their brain, the sky’s the limit.”

“So where do these ‘inner guides’ and ‘wise persons’ come into all this?”

Miss Brewer let her eyes search the heavens as she formulated an answer. “To put it simply, there is a vast storehouse of knowledge locked up in our own hidden consciousness, and one of the ways to access it is to personify it, dress it up as a person, a character familiar to us. So, say I’m a little girl with fears about big people, grown-ups, maybe my own parents. Actually, I already have within myself all the knowledge I need to cope with whatever situation I encounter. I only need to learn it from myself. So, to facilitate that, I relax, let my mind go, and imagine—visualize—a favorite image, a character, a friend. Did you notice the pictures the children drew? Every one of those drawings was the child’s expression of an inner friend, an inner guide, a personification of their own wisdom with which they feel free, unhampered, and comfortable. Once they create this image, it takes on a life of its own, and can talk to them and give them the advice and counsel they need for
whatever they’re having to deal with. In essence, they are learning from themselves, from their own buried consciousness.”

“And this is all contained in this
Finding the Real Me
curriculum?”

“It’s all in there, all organized, categorized, and graded. It makes the whole task a lot simpler.”

“But—if I might play the Devil’s advocate for a moment—what are they actually learning from this? Is there any academic achievement connected with the time you spend going through these exercises?”

Miss Brewer paused to formulate an answer. “I think what you’re alluding to is the kind of argument we hear a lot, that we’re not really teaching the kids anything, but are programming them, or using them for guinea pigs. But really, what is education? It’s training and equipping children to live their lives, to survive in this world, to have the right attitudes and life skills to adapt to a rapidly changing social environment.”

“And . . . I take it, of course, that reading, writing, mathematics, social studies, subjects like this have their place in this overall definition of education?”

Miss Brewer made a strange face. “Well . . . basic academic training is one thing, but it won’t bring about the necessary change . . .”

“Change?”

“Well, reading, English, arithmetic, and those other subjects are in another category. They can’t be applied in an affective, clinical sense . . .”

Kate hesitated. This young gal was enthusiastic about her job and her teaching style, but also vague with her answers.

“Okay . . .” she said, looking over her notes. “You used the word ‘clinical.’ So you see your role as more than just a teacher? You see yourself also as a therapist of some kind?”

Miss Brewer smiled and nodded. “That’s a fair way to put it, I think. It’s not a complete education to just fill their heads with the same old ideas that were taught to their parents. We need to equip them to rise above whatever knowledge came before, and to search out their own truth and personal values.”

Kate was tired of generalities. “Even if it means training young children in shamanism and Eastern meditation?”

Miss Brewer laughed as if she’d been told a joke. “You make it
sound like there’s some kind of religion going on here. That’s a common objection we hear all the time. There were some parents who came to me with that conception, but we cleared it up. This isn’t religion; it’s purely scientific.”

“I understand those same parents withdrew their children from this school because they were convinced you were teaching religion here, something contrary to their own beliefs.”

Miss Brewer nodded. She remembered it. “I guess that’s how we cleared it up. Sounds like you’ve already talked to them.”

Kate nodded back. “Yes.”

Miss Brewer was still pleasant and all the more confident. “Well, I have no misgivings about what we’re doing here. I think the school board and all the teachers they hire are more than qualified to judge what is helpful and constructive for the children. And the courts have stood behind the education community in that regard. If parents don’t feel they can trust highly trained professionals to be competent in handling their children, then I guess withdrawing their children is their only real option. We aren’t here to cater to fringe elements who insist on living in the past.”

“You referred to the school board. I take it they selected and authorized the
Finding the Real Me
curriculum?”

“Yes, unanimously. You really should meet them before you draw any final conclusions. They’re a wonderful group of people. I’m proud to be working with them.”

“Well, I’m sure they are. But tell me . . .” Kate was ready to ask the question, but didn’t know if Miss Brewer was ready to answer it. “Wasn’t Amber Brandon in your class this year?”

Oh, Miss Brewer received that question like a revelation. She closed her eyes and smiled a long, showy smile as if to say,
Aha!
“So . . . is that what this visit is all about?”

Kate decided to try some education rhetoric herself. “Well, let’s just remember that we all believe in freedom of thought, freedom of information, and above all freedom from censorship for those who have a right to know.” Then she tried a straight answer. “For your information, I’m a friend of Tom Harris’s, and I’m doing some research for him.”

Miss Brewer was truly an admirable person. She remained strong and sat up straight. “I don’t mind. I don’t have to make apologies or
hide anything I’m doing in this classroom. In answer to your question, yes, Amber Brandon was in my class, and as a matter of fact, she’s back once again to finish out the year.”

“Was she here today? I don’t think I saw her.”

“No, and it’s understandable. Due to the trauma she’s going through, she just isn’t willing to attend this part of the class anymore. She spends this time in the library, and then returns to class after lunch.”

“Then can you tell me about Amethyst the pony?”

Miss Brewer rose from her desk and pointed out a crayon picture posted high above the chalkboard. “Here she is, right here.”

Kate walked closer for a better look.

It was an eerie experience, like getting the first look at a night-stalking burglar, or seeing the face of a serial rapist for the first time.

So this was Amethyst!

She was a little purple pony with shining pink mane and tail; her eyes were large and sparkling, she had a five-pointed star on her cheek, small white wings grew from her shoulders, and she stood tall and alert under a rainbow arch. She was beautiful, a remarkable drawing for a ten-year-old. In the lower-right corner, Amber had carefully printed her name in dark pencil.

“She drew this about a month before she transferred to the Christian school,” Miss Brewer explained. “She was having some remarkable experiences during our exercise sessions. I’ve never seen such progress in a child.”

Kate swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

“And you . . .” she began, but had to clear her throat. “You hold that this . . . this image . . . is a . . . uh . . .”

“A visualization of Amber’s own inner wisdom.”

“I see.” Kate took a moment to formulate her next question. “So . . . as you probably know, the current case against Tom Harris stemmed from a confrontation between himself and . . . and Amber as Amethyst.”

Miss Brewer smiled. “Well . . . all I can give you is my opinion.”

“Please do.”

“Whenever a child is thrust into a situation that is intolerable, such as a case of abuse, it’s not unusual for the child to bury the memory of it or any thought of it to avoid the pain and trauma of the event. Many
child abuse counselors have found that one way to bring things back out into the open is to allow the child to project the memory into a neutral object, such as a figure or doll or puppet.

“In Amber’s case, you have a little pony who is bright, confident, and pristine, and who has the strength to deal with such problems where Amber doesn’t. When it comes to what really happened at the Christian school, Amber can’t talk about it, but instead lets Amethyst come forward and do the talking for her.”