We had a raw and honest day, here in the Magic Tree House. First graders are so incredibly REAL. I’m not exactly sure at what age children become inhibited and self-aware, but having raised four of my own, I know it is coming soon for my charges. As a society, we demand it. There are unwritten mores that must be scripted and followed. Fall in line or be labeled odd.
Too bad. I much prefer bald honesty.
Here are a few examples. We are still young and tender enough, that if feelings get hurt, tears flow. This applies to girls AND boys. Who decided that it is unmanly and a sure sign of low testosterone for the male species to shed a few tears? I don’t know and I don’t get it. Today we had hurt feelings and the predictable river of salty tears. I did use it as a teaching moment as to how to make the leap from hurt feelings to problem-solving. We want our young men to learn to be proactive about their problems, but for goodness sakes, shed a little water if you feel like it. It does not make you weak, at least in my fair estimation.
We also voted on our weekly spelling bonus word. These are entirely student nominated and voted-upon. My only rule is that it must be school appropriate. I have also decreed that we will stop nominating each others names as bonus words. This often lead to excessive campaigning and something of a popularity contest. I instituted this rule AFTER “Mrs. Dahl” finally won last week.
Guess what this week’s word is? No, not booger. It was nominated, but did not win. This week’s grand winner was “naked.” I considered pulling the plug on it, mostly due to the near certainty I will get a call or two from wary parents. (“Mrs. Dahl, what in the world is going on in your classroom???”). But I decided to let it ride and use it as a teaching moment.
It was intended by its nominator to be a giggle generator. And of course it was. But I grabbed the dictionary off the shelf and read the definition. Unclothed is one of the definitions, of course. But they were surprised to learn it can also be applied to objects, such as tables or trees. Anything without a covering is considered “naked.” We discussed the term, “naked truth.” Well, that took the wind out of their blushing sails. I’m guessing next week they will give “booger” another try.
Later in the day, I looked at a deep stack of outstanding assignment sitting in front of a student. I sighed. “This has to be done, you know.” He nodded and looked around at his classmates finished with their day’s work and now busy with an art project. “Can I take it home and do it tonight?” he asked hopefully. I started to object having been burned before on getting homework back in a reasonable fashion from this lad.
And yet… I do believe in second chances.
I sat down on the table beside him and leaned close to his face. “It has to be done tonight,” I said earnestly. He looked intently into my eyes for a long moment. Then he offered the biggest assurance that a first grader is capable of giving. He lifted his small right hand and held it in front of me, his pinkie finger extended. Without a word I lifted my hand and grabbed his pinkie with my own. “Do you pinkie swear you’ll get it done?” I asked with the solemnity of a Supreme Court judge. He nodded somberly. We shook on it then, both satisfied that we had a legal agreement that would stand up in any court in the land.
The day ended with the bright reminder of the culture of this place, this school and this community. Now I’ll just say here, that I am handed an “I love you, Mrs. Dahl” card about every 30 seconds (or so). Although they are common, each one is precious and (yes, I’ll admit it), kept by said teacher. I have never, however, been given one quite like today’s.
She thrust it into my hands at the very end of the day, just before the bell rang. “I made this for you, Mrs. Dahl,” she said hurriedly. I accepted it absently as I was trying to attend to another matter. When my attention could be brought back to the object in my hand, I was clueless as to what I was looking at. She must have recognized my blank look for she quickly offered her explanation. “It’s a horse hoof.” Oh. Oh?? I didn’t see it yet. She could see I needed more information. “It’s the bottom of a horse’s hoof.” OK, I could (kinda’) see that. Interesting concept. But there was more. “Yeah, and it stepped in poop, and there’s always hair and stuff in poop… yeah…” her little voice trailed off. Sure enough, she had cut little strips and pieces of paper and glued them all around the edge like, well, like poop with stuff stuck in it.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I doubt I will ever again get a card shaped like a hoof covered in plop. I had to celebrate the creativity. She did not AT ALL mean it to be insulting or crude. This is a farming community. Manure is as much a part of their ranching lives as are chores and rodeos. She loves horses and all-things horsey. She wanted to share that love with me. This is the world I work in and these are my students. They form alliances based on the color of tractors they own. You are either a John Deere or a Case IH fan. These loyalties run deep and are generational. I get it… and I love it.
I set the one-of-a-kind card on my desk in a prominent place to remind me that whatever is important to my students should be important to me as well, and that where character-building is concerned, hope should always win.
My goodness, I love my job.
And you know what? I think I’ll see a stack of finished homework first thing in the morning. In fact, I’m sure of it. How do I know?
We pinkie shook on it…
POSTSCRIPT: All homework was finished and returned first thing this morning. I love second chances...
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