Whereas the music, effects, costumes, props, and performers, were amazing I found the storyline to be quite thought-provoking. Did I like it? No, in fact I didn’t. To be perfectly honest, it was quite disconcerting (and the sequel is even more so!) However, leaving the theater, I found myself feeling a little sorry for the Phantom. Now some of you might think that I am going soft, which I assure you is not the case. Please, do not get me wrong, I found him to be utterly stalkerish, disturbing and dark. He made me feel uncomfortable and I do not agree with his methods. But, I did have to ask myself, what was it that he really wanted? In the Wikipedia synopsis it said that he only gives up Christine, because he “Stunned by the kiss, which is the first real human love he has ever felt.” How sad!!! The poor man!! Considered a freak and outcast from childhood, all he truly wanted was love and acceptance by another human being…
Now I realize that the Phantom of the Opera is just a deranged fictional character, but what if he wasn’t? What if he was a normal human being? What if he was a neighbor? A co-worker? The homeless lady begging for money on the street corner? The little old man that used to sit in front of Edgewater Publix selling newspapers? You fill in the person…
Now I’m not going to encourage you to run off with them into the basement of an opera house. Nor, am I going to tell you to give them a kiss, but I would encourage you to give them a smile. A kind word. A simple deed. Humans are all the same, we want love and acceptance. As Christians, we realize that we are given that from our Heavenly Father. But it’s the non-Christians that we should truly pine for. They are lost, hopeless, and unsatisfied. They may try to hide it, but deep-down, they are hurting… What I am about to tell you next is not meant to be a chance to “blow” my proverbial horn. I am not trying to glorify myself (for I can take no credit) but instead encourage you that even the littlest things we do can make a difference in another’s lives.
At the beginning of the school year, we had several, as I will refer to them, “phantom” students. These students did not attend regular classes, but instead worked privately in a separate room. Several students would only communicate briefly with specific teachers while one in particular, would literally run down the hallway and hide around the corner when any other students were in the vicinity. He literally would shake while he timidly peered around the corner to make sure no one was around.
Of course, these students brought curiosity from me, but I didn’t know how to appropriately ask about them. Over time, I learned that each one had special needs (not necessarily mental or physical but emotional as well) and they were given the opportunity to work at their own level with the hopes of slowly integrating into normal school life. As the weeks progressed, I, from a distance, was able to see them progress. The little “runner-boy” stopped hiding from the other students – and in fact, now will sometimes interact slightly with some of the other “phantom” students. The little girl who always silently works by herself, attended a concert given by the other students. The “small wrestler” started attending morning meetings with the other kids. In the fall, I was invited to eat lunch with them, and nobody ran away!! In fact, I even got a little bit of English out of them in the process.
Well, this past January, another “phantom” student arrived. He was obviously older than the rest and incredibly shy. He always was polite to my vice principal, but extremely awkward. For some reason, he specifically peaked my curiosity, and slowly I learned things about him from the other teachers. He is half-Japanese, half-Brazilian (not a good combination in a society that esteems pure-blood and in a city that is discriminatory against Brazilians). Some years prior, his parents divorced. The shock of their decision was too much for him, and he had failed to attend school for many years. Also, he had spent considerable time in Brazil and whereas he can speak formal Japanese, he is unable to read and write it well. All-in-all, he lacks the ability to relate to his peers. However, for some reason, he decided to begin attending school. Even though he knew he wouldn’t have the chance to catch up with his classmates before graduation, he has determined that he will work hard and even start attending night school. He doesn’t want the things of the past to affect his future.
All, of these things, I slowly had to piece together, but it was the next bit of information that really surprised me. One of the teachers told me that he really wanted to talk to me, but he was afraid that his English wasn’t good enough. She assured him that I knew a little Japanese and would be patient, and encouraged him to talk to me. After finding this out, and realizing that he was still too nervous, I decided to approach him. First it was a simple smile and “Hello.” Soon, I was getting those two things back! Then he added “Goodbye”, which the other “phantoms” started to imitate. Next it was my turn, with a few simple sentences complete with lots of gestures and a few Japanese words scattered throughout. Slowly, he started to communicate back, asking me one-word questions. When he decided to join the other kids for lunch, we would walk to the class together discussing our likes and dislikes of the day’s menu…
This past Wednesday, the graduating seniors had a bicycle safety course. He was in attendance, looking as uncomfortable as ever. During break, I watched as he sat by himself while the other kids chatted around him. He finally got up and tried to join a group. While the kids were obviously not rude, the also didn’t make a huge effort to include him. Finally, he left (was it from boredom, insecurity, or incapability to understand, I do not know) and quietly sat down again by himself. When I plopped down beside him, a smile lightened his face and we slowly began to discuss the next day’s events – a trip to the zoo. I asked him what animal he liked. He said “cat.” He gestured to me. I replied with “rabbit.” I told him I couldn’t go, but I hoped he had a fun time.
Yesterday (Friday) my “regular” kids excitedly told me all about their trip to the zoo, the animals they saw, and the rides they rode. Several hours later, while I was quietly working at my desk, he walked in and shyly handed me a bag. “Cat,” he said as he pointed to himself. “Rabbit,” and pointed to me. I peeked inside the bag and choked back tears…

