Mercy

 We had two students at the end of first semester with failing grades. They asked for a second chance on a literary analysis they'd taken too lightly, and Deb, who'd made the assignment, was willing to work with both. 

It's weeks after grades were finalized, and we're rumbling over how to handle the one student's grade which is two percentage points away from passing. Do we still let him fail? Do we let him learn a lesson of poor choice and consequence?

Yes, we will provide a lesson, but it won't be about failure, it will be about mercy.

For we have learned in our years of teaching to err on the side of mercy.

When mercy is received as it is given, it will change the recipient's life.

For true mercy when given with pure intent, comes with compassion and love. It builds and edifies. 

The benefactor of mercy is relieved and grateful. It's as if he stepped into the street without looking but the car swerved and his life was saved. That split second action. He feels profound gratitude and never steps into the street agains without first looking. 

It's Victor Hugo's 1862 story Les Miserables. When the priest grants mercy to Jean Valjean he changes at his very core. Yet the story is so powerful because of mercy withheld. Javert, who refuses to grant mercy, destroys himself. 

This is in part why Les Miserables has withstood the test of time--it is timeless. Mercy and its need is timeless. It's as pertinent in a 2021 classroom as it was in 19th century France, as it was in England in 1598.

 “The quality of mercy is not strain’d,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes…
Portia, from the Merchant of Venice


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