Every story needs a beginning. Well this beginning is going to have a story. I enjoy shaking things up like that. This is the first entry of my new blog.
This is the true story of a small moment involving one of my students. We'll call her Mary.
This moment took up a few short minutes in one very long day, yet it kept me energized and motivated for late-night grading and planning. Mary is a very kind girl. That seems like a simple sentence, but it holds a lot of meaning. She is selfless and considerate—polite without being boring. She thinks of others before herself, a quality seen all too rarely within my school walls. This is made more notable because her life is no cakewalk. Alcoholism and other forms of abuse are no stranger to her family. She has seen and spoken of things that, by rights, she shouldn't have ever experienced as an eight-year-old girl. She is also homeless, and the time between meals is often far too long.
That's a lot of exposition, but I wanted to show the resilience of a young girl who can remain an amiable human being in the face of adversity.
On April 24th, Mary came up to me as I was getting students lined up to go to one of their Specials classes; I believe it was Physical Education. She handed me a piece of paper, folded in fourths, and told me that it was a gift for me. I accepted it without opening it and continued to transition my class to the gym.
Upon returning to my classroom to make the most of my planning period, I took the folded paper from my pocket and opened it. It was a drawing:
This is the true story of a small moment involving one of my students. We'll call her Mary.
This moment took up a few short minutes in one very long day, yet it kept me energized and motivated for late-night grading and planning. Mary is a very kind girl. That seems like a simple sentence, but it holds a lot of meaning. She is selfless and considerate—polite without being boring. She thinks of others before herself, a quality seen all too rarely within my school walls. This is made more notable because her life is no cakewalk. Alcoholism and other forms of abuse are no stranger to her family. She has seen and spoken of things that, by rights, she shouldn't have ever experienced as an eight-year-old girl. She is also homeless, and the time between meals is often far too long.
That's a lot of exposition, but I wanted to show the resilience of a young girl who can remain an amiable human being in the face of adversity.
On April 24th, Mary came up to me as I was getting students lined up to go to one of their Specials classes; I believe it was Physical Education. She handed me a piece of paper, folded in fourths, and told me that it was a gift for me. I accepted it without opening it and continued to transition my class to the gym.
Upon returning to my classroom to make the most of my planning period, I took the folded paper from my pocket and opened it. It was a drawing:
I borrowed her from P.E. so I would have some time to talk to her, and I took her to a semi-private corner of the office. The administrative assistants were busy at their desks and paid us little attention. I approached the topic on eggshells.
"I got your drawing. It looks like you spent a lot of time on it! How were you feeling when you drew it?"
"I was just thinking."
"You are very thoughtful. What were you thinking about?"
"I was thinking about taming something. I was thinking about the Prince's responsibility."
Here is where I have to explain myself. When I took this position, I was excited to spend some time reading great books to my students. The book I was reading at this time was Antoine de Saint Exupéry's The Little Prince. It's one of my favorite books. For those who don't know, one of the themes of The Little Prince is rediscovering the uniqueness and wonder inherent in the seemingly ordinary. It's a return to childhood thinking, a way to infuse oneself with vitality of spirit. The little prince in the story did this by taming, and being tamed by, a rose on his home asteroid.
Every day, as I read this layered story that has meant much to me since I was a child, I hoped that my students felt something similar. They definitely enjoyed the story, but sometimes it is hard to tell exactly how they are receiving a message. My thrill at having discovered the true intent of Mary's drawing was immediate, and I hope not overly apparent.
"Oh, is this the flower in our story?"
"Yeah, it's the prince's flower!"
What I thought was a tombstone was the jar the prince had placed over the rose to keep her safe. The fresh grave was merely the brown of the prince's home asteroid. I thanked Mary for her drawing and sent her back to P.E.
This moment made me face the impact that negative elements have on me. Why did I instantly interpret Mary's drawing so morbidly? I learn as much or more from my students as they learn from me. Their lessons also seem infinitely more relevant to the human condition than the curriculum that focuses on robotic testing. Mary reminds me to look for the positive—I hope I can live up to this lesson. Thankfully, every time I now look at the drawing I see only a rose lovingly protected by a glass jar.
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