For some years I had been working with "difficult" children.  One day, I decided to invite twenty students from school to my home.  The principal and superintendent were reluctant to allow this. My insistence won over their fear, and we set a day for the visit.

On the appointed day, a school bus rumbled up to my house and twenty boys and girls from a gang-riddled neighborhood got off and headed up my driveway. They were between twelve and fourteen years of age.

Imagine my shock when I saw three attendants accompanying them. My plan had been to have an open conversation with the children for two hours, to eat some snacks , exchange phone numbers and learn a lesson or two in trust.

The attendants insisted on remaining in my house for "security’s" sake. Since I hadn’t expected them, all the chairs were taken. I asked them to sit on the staircase.

The kids were wonderful. They smiled at the sight of their keepers not being given a chair, but did not start their usual bullying. I introduced myself as a child survivor of the Holocaust and asked them to tell everyone in one sentence something significant about themselves. At first, there was a moan, and one boy shouted out, "Nobody never listens to me, so why should I do that?"

"Guess you'll have to take a chance today," I answered, "because I asked you to come here to get to know you, and for you to get to know your friends from a different viewpoint.

He was the first to talk about himself and told us about his father being in prison, and how lonely he felt at times. A couple of boys sitting next to him patted him on the back, and we were off to a discussion which became more and more open. After the first hour, I served them cookies and hot chocolate, and while they enjoyed it, they really wanted to get on with the powerful new connection they felt for one another.

A few of the children needed to use the bathroom and the attendants jumped up. "We must accompany them if they are going upstairs. Who knows what might happen?"  Some of the girls shrugged their shoulders. Such lack of trust had become an everyday experience for them.

I could not allow the warm feeling which had been created to stop. Instead, I explained that the house belonged to me and that I implicitly trusted these kids. "You'll find out when your jewelry is missing", one of the adults said in a raised voice.  

There was no possible answer to such aggressive behavior, and I decided not to say another word to them.  After the children settled down, our talk continued. We heard stories of great love of parents for their children, of parents who worked over twelve hours each day, of decisions the kids had to make about whether or not to join a gang or be attacked on the streets, of hopes for the future. Their faces were animated as they talked and listened to one another.

When it was time to leave, there were hugs, phone numbers exchanged, and promises to visit again.           

The attendants nodded to me as they left. The bus noisily made its way down the street. My house became too quiet.       

I began to stay at the school longer hours.  Little by little I began a program there. On Friday afternoons after school, we had an hour of conversation with anyone who wanted to come.

We sat on the floor in an all-purpose room, and became very close. As the months went by, parents became involved, and we took the kids on little trips to the beach or to some place where they could run and let their energy explode.

One day, I brought up the subject of meditation. They had not heard of it. When they found out about all the good things which can come from it, they wanted to try it. I added three more hours to Fridays at the school. These children who had been problems for their teachers and parents now breathed a different breath, a breath of trust, a breath of friendship, and a breath of self-knowledge.       

I am still in touch with two of the students from the original twenty who filled my house with their young voices. One of them became an attorney, and the other owns a restaurant.

By Margot Webb - An expert meditation author and a teacher. She learned meditation in India. She was also coordinator of integration in a school in a large city and worked with students who came every day carrying their private problems with them. At 90, she enjoys music and the warmth of friendships thanks to her meditation practice.