by Mya Dundzila
Mya Dundzila
Regional Membership Coordinator
The final leg of my journey to Pinnacle this summer was a 90-minute flight from Chicago to Wichita. The last two passengers to board were a father and his adult son, who had an intellectual disability. The son was yelling, spewing profanity, and clearly upset. The pair was seated two rows behind me. As soon as they were seated, the son started kicking the seat in front of him.
The father was patiently trying to calm his son, but nothing seemed to be working. At that point, the young woman in front of them (and immediately behind me) turned around and very cheerily started up a conversation. “Hi, my name’s Janey! Do you live in Wichita?” The father answered for both of them. The son’s name was John and soon, he and Janey were talking about the Chiefs’ quarterback and the best hamburger joint in Wichita.
This situation could have been a huge disaster. I was uncomfortable and already thinking about changing seats. Janey reached out to John with deliberate kindness and compassion, seeking to help. It turns out she was a teacher and probably had the superpower of redirecting people. As I listened to the ongoing conversation, I finally set aside my own personal concerns and began feeling immense gratitude and awe at how Janey responded.
This was an unusual occurrence, yet I think we all face less dramatic situations where it is easy to get irritated at something or someone. While there is always room for the random acts of kindness, sometimes intentional intervention (and risk!) is what’s needed.
I can remember rehearsals where another ringer was struggling to get a difficult rhythm pattern. Instead of glaring at the struggling ringer, I should have asked the director to go over the difficult measure on behalf of my part. This may have taken the pressure off one person and likely benefited many in the group.
Sometimes a lot of friendly chatter can feel disruptive at rehearsal. Even the chattiest of groups will eventually have to focus on the director. I bet if Janey rang handbells, she would have a great technique for redirecting her neighbor, like “I would love to see your new kitten—could you show me the pictures after rehearsal?” or “You found the blueberry flavored M&Ms? Awesome! Could I get the link after rehearsal?”
Fortunately, I did not need Janey on my flight home from Pinnacle—no disruptions or conflicts, and no opportunity to emulate the kind and courageous young woman who made an enormous impact on me and John.
PS: There aren’t blueberry flavored M&Ms yet, but there should be.
The final leg of my journey to Pinnacle this summer was a 90-minute flight from Chicago to Wichita. The last two passengers to board were a father and his adult son, who had an intellectual disability. The son was yelling, spewing profanity, and clearly upset. The pair was seated two rows behind me. As soon as they were seated, the son started kicking the seat in front of him.
The father was patiently trying to calm his son, but nothing seemed to be working. At that point, the young woman in front of them (and immediately behind me) turned around and very cheerily started up a conversation. “Hi, my name’s Janey! Do you live in Wichita?” The father answered for both of them. The son’s name was John and soon, he and Janey were talking about the Chiefs’ quarterback and the best hamburger joint in Wichita.
This situation could have been a huge disaster. I was uncomfortable and already thinking about changing seats. Janey reached out to John with deliberate kindness and compassion, seeking to help. It turns out she was a teacher and probably had the superpower of redirecting people. As I listened to the ongoing conversation, I finally set aside my own personal concerns and began feeling immense gratitude and awe at how Janey responded.
This was an unusual occurrence, yet I think we all face less dramatic situations where it is easy to get irritated at something or someone. While there is always room for the random acts of kindness, sometimes intentional intervention (and risk!) is what’s needed.
I can remember rehearsals where another ringer was struggling to get a difficult rhythm pattern. Instead of glaring at the struggling ringer, I should have asked the director to go over the difficult measure on behalf of my part. This may have taken the pressure off one person and likely benefited many in the group.
Sometimes a lot of friendly chatter can feel disruptive at rehearsal. Even the chattiest of groups will eventually have to focus on the director. I bet if Janey rang handbells, she would have a great technique for redirecting her neighbor, like “I would love to see your new kitten—could you show me the pictures after rehearsal?” or “You found the blueberry flavored M&Ms? Awesome! Could I get the link after rehearsal?”
Fortunately, I did not need Janey on my flight home from Pinnacle—no disruptions or conflicts, and no opportunity to emulate the kind and courageous young woman who made an enormous impact on me and John.
PS: There aren’t blueberry flavored M&Ms yet, but there should be.
Mya Dundzila
Regional Membership Coordinator