Valentine's Day is still a big deal in elementary schools. Even the "too-cool-for-school" fifth graders I teach still look forward to making their mailboxes and exchanging greetings of friendship and love on this holiday. In fact, some of the 10 and 11 year old kiddos go all out for Valentine's Day. This year, because I happen to have wildly talented and creative little people in my care, about half my class made their own handmade Valentine cards. (I particularly enjoyed the Star Wars themed ones that said, "This is not the Valentine you are looking for.")
This year, the week of our Valentine's celebration started out on a sad note, though. One of our class members had a sudden death in the family and had to travel to attend his grandmother's funeral. He wouldn't be at school for Valentine's Day. We have a community sharing time every day at our school called Pride Time that keeps us relating well to each other as a class in hugely wonderful ways. When I let the class know what was happening at Pride Time, the response overwhelmed me. I expected them to be very concerned for their classmate because this is a particularly closely bonded group of students. What I didn't anticipate was the depths to which that care and concern would impact us all.
Immediately upon hearing of this, the class decided that they would make sure that all of the Valentine cards for their classmate would be collected so he could have them upon his return. One of the leaders in the class (and there are many, trust me!) stepped up and organized who would make the all-important Valentine mailbox, and then decided that the class would make one large Valentine expressing their sympathy at the loss of their friend's grandmother, and their best wishes that he would be happy again soon. In a matter of moments, there were tasks assigned to bring materials, volunteers recruited to construct the card, and information shared by his closer friends of all the sports teams, animals, and literary choices the child liked so that they could be included in the design of the card.
I sat back, taking all this in, gratified that I wasn't needed. At all. My class had it covered...completely. The only thing that was needed from me was permission to use morning work and recess time (YES...they gave us their RECESS to do this!) to actually construct the card. It was one of the most glorious moments I can remember having as a teacher. I know that these little people are special, but to see them in action is a beautiful thing to behold.
Pride Time ended and the day moved forward in its regular rhythm. It wasn't until our mid-morning break that I noticed the intricately folded note on my desk.
It was in the shape of a pyramid, another by-product of teaching highly creative students. Nothing is ever just halfhearted, not even notes to the teacher. As I carefully unfolded it and read it, I struggled mightily to keep from crying in front of my class. Another classmate wrote this:
"On the card we make for ____, can I include, 'Don't worry they are in a better place,' and 'I know how it feels.' My grandfather just passed away last Saturday, too."The student who wrote that is a quiet child, one who could easily be overlooked unless you specifically make a note to keep your eye on him as a teacher. He doesn't like attention to be drawn to himself, which is likely why he slipped this note onto my desk unnoticed by me and his classmates, and also why neither he nor his parents shared the news of his grandfather's death over the weekend. But he is a deep-feeling person, as is perhaps evidenced by the incredible act of empathy he showed to his classmate. Had he seen me cry, he would have been very upset at having caused my tears, and so I swallowed them down.
I thought on this for the remainder of the day and when the student left to use the restroom before dismissal, I very quickly and quietly shared with the class that another student also lost a grandparent. I was not at all surprised this time when another leader stepped up and organized creating a card for this classmate, too. It was rather stunning that they did it quietly and in about 2 minutes. Literally. Their genuine care and concern for each other motivates some amazing actions, which perhaps explains how although many of them fail to complete assignments they have hours to do, they can completely and effectively organize a group to donate supplies and provide labor in a matter of 120 seconds!
The week moved on, the cards were created, one in secret, and then it was finally time to exchange our Valentines with each other. I had wondered how we would do this, and how the very quiet student would handle receiving a card from his friends. When the time came, I decided to let the group together deliver it, since it was their wish for their friend. I gathered them up front and when they were quietly seated, nodded quietly to the leader who organized creating the card. He told his classmate that when the class found out about his grandfather dying, they were sad and wanted to share some love with him, and then presented him with his own card, just like the one he knew they had created for the other classmate. The child at first looked surprised at his classmates' gesture. Then he smiled a beautiful, wide smile...just before he put his head in his hands and cried!
Had it been a mistake to do this publicly, I wondered in a moment of panic? But then, in a moment I will remember for a lifetime, I watched 26 students get up and literally surround him in a group hug and say things like, "It's OK," and "I cry when I'm sad, too." They made this child feel loved, accepted, and like he mattered. I was very grateful that they were all busy loving on their classmate...because there was absolutely no way to choke back those tears this time! (In fact, a few of the more sensitive kiddos in class were wiping their own eyes a bit, too!)
The day ended on a happy, celebratory note with our class party and I was very pleased with the outcome. When I opened my work email later that night, I was surprised to get one from this child's mother. She was out of the country at her father's funeral, gathered with her brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. When he got home, it seems my student face-time messaged her and shared the card. His entire family got to share the love that his classmates sent him! His mother wanted to thank me from the bottom of her heart for taking care of her child and his emotions in her absence. She shared that knowing that he was well loved helped her feel better about being absent while he was grieving at home. I replied that while I do love her son, it was completely his classmates' idea to express their sympathy in this way, and explained the situation that led to them doing so. To which she replied, "...but you create the atmosphere in the classroom that makes things like this happen."
YES! Yes, I do! THAT is why I teach!!
Teaching is so much more than dissemination of knowledge. A computer can do that, sometimes far more effectively than I can. No, rather teaching is expert modeling - of how to read fluently, of how to solve real life problems using solid mathematical computation and reasoning, of how to communicate with others effectively in speaking and writing. But at its best, teaching ought to also be modeling for little people how to live life well - how to care for others' needs, sometimes even more than you care for your own, how to make people feel loved and respected, how to be a person who has empathy for those around him. It is envisioning and creating an environment in your classroom where there are high expectations for academic achievement, and even higher ones for living well with each other.
I am entrusted with this responsibility every single time I walk into the classroom. It's not a part of my job that can be measured well by test scores or even by observing a single lesson that I've taught. But there is still plenty of evidence that I've done it effectively so far this school year. There are 28 little people whose lives are being lived well and making a difference in their world.
I'm so proud to be their teacher. They are one of my greatest forward moves in life, my magnum opus as it were. The seeds I plant in them for the 180 days is it my privilege to call them my class will bear much, much fruit. In fact, they already are!
This is why I do what I do. It's far more than a career, or even a calling. It's a passion.
Moving Forward..
Angie
:-)
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