I've always been highly aware of how people can have completely different personalities depending on whom they're with and the situation. I can come off as shy or even standoffish to some people if I'm feeling reserved around them, while other people might call me bubbly and outgoing. There was one very popular girl from a higher grade in high school who I know was considered one of the "mean girls," and though we weren't friends outside of the classroom, I had a couple classes with her and always found her to be delightfully fun, witty, and warm to me, and she would frequently say hi to me and be friendly when we passed in the hall. I don't think she was aware that I was not one of the popular kids in my grade, but regardless, I only saw a very positive side of her personality. Conversely, there was another girl in school who everyone thought was incredibly sweet and kind; I saw her as a brilliant, manipulative liar -- which isn't to say that she wasn't sweet and kind with others, but when she was with me, I clearly brought out the worst in her. And numerous times I've done a show where there's someone whom I like very much but whom other people dislike, or the other way around. We could tell each other why that person's actually nice/mean/outgoing/quiet/etc., but as long as different people perceive or for whatever reason bring out different behaviors and different personalities from the same person, we'll always disagree on what their personality is.
With young children, I think sometimes this seeming division in their personality can be even stronger. They frequently behave exactly as they feel, with no attempt to put forward a different facade or mask their feelings. There's one young boy in the ballet program I work for who arrives to our school every week with a horribly miserable expression and attitude that would suggest every puppy and kitten in the world has just died and his being forced to be awake and alive in the world is somehow just killing more puppies and kittens -- but either way the whole universe is going to explode anyway tomorrow, so he'd really rather just be in bed…. That's the energy I get from him. All the time. The other day, it was particularly bad and he came out of class pouting. One of the other adults asked him if he'd had breakfast, and he sullenly shook his head no, so she told him to take a seat in the hallway while she went to go find him some breakfast. So he plopped down dejectedly on the chair, leaving just the two of us in the hallway. Normally I'd chat with a child in that situation, but I knew from watching others try to engage him that adults attempting to make small talk with this boy just got attitude and sullenness and rarely even a single word in reply. So I pretty much ignored him, going about my business trying to fix my broken name tag using the supplies on the desk now vacated by the adult who went to go find him breakfast.
On this particular day, I happened to be dressed in my Donald Duck Vans sneakers, skinny jeans, and a bright colorful top with my hair in a pony tail... sooo pretty much like kids his age dress. And, because my name tag had broken when I was helping to set up before school started, I wasn't wearing my name tag like all the other adults were. So perhaps in the child/adult dichotomy of his brain, the boy hadn't quite classified me as an "adult." As he sullenly slumped on the chair and I stood two feet from him working on my name tag, I saw him sit up straight suddenly and tilt his head to see what I was doing. His brow furrowed in concentration and confusion as I glanced at him. He looked up at me curiously and asked, "You're a teacher?"
Surprised by his sudden shift to perkiness, I replied, "I'm an assistant."
"An assistant?"
"Yeah. You know how there are two people in your class who come around and give you corrections?" He nodded. "I do that. And this, obviously" -- gesturing to the hallway and the dressing rooms -- "helping you guys check in and get ready for class."
"Oh..... " He thought about that for a few beats and then leaned forward, scooting to the front of his chair and craning to see my name tag. "What's your name?"
I showed my name tag to him, and he asked, "But what's your first name? I see your first name on the back."
So I told him he could call me "Miss Jessica," wondering where all this personality had been hiding, and then he sat up straight again in his chair, looked at the wall, and asked brightly, "Why is there a big space in the wall? Why isn't it painted there? There's a big rectangle where the wall's not finished."
I've been asked about tiny holes in the brick wall quite a few times before, but remarkably, no child has ever asked me about the gigantic 4 x 6 foot rectangle where clearly something once existed that has since been removed.
"That's an excellent question," I replied. "I have no idea. Something must have been there once upon a time and they took it down."
"I thought it was a TV at first. Maybe there was a TV there once."
"A 4 x 6 foot TV? That's an awfully big TV, don't you think? And kind of a weird place for one, right in front of the elevator...."
"Yeah, but we have a TV at home that big. It's huge. It's that big."
"Really? I have a TV that's about two feet by two feet."
"Huh. No I think that was a TV once."
Right then the other adult came back with his breakfast. The boy immediately slumped back in his chair, his eyes lost their light, and he resumed his depressed "I'd rather be in bed" expression, eating his breakfast without another word before silently cleaning up after himself and shuffling back to class.
Stunned by the completely different personality I'd just seen -- by the fact that hey, there's actually a little kid in there -- I told the other adult about it, and she said, "Yeah, I think he's in there, and I think he's a nice kid. It just doesn't come out much."
There is most definitely an awesome, curious, alive little kid in there somewhere with a definite spark. I don't know what makes him tick, but I'm pretty sure that for him it's not dancing -- and it must be something other than just the thought of giant TVs. Hopefully the grown-ups around him can help him find that spark more often. If so, I think he’d be a much happier child, and I know the world would be a little richer place.
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