Connections

During my last class on Friday afternoon, one of my students kept giving me a thumbs up. At first, I thought that she was just giving me a thumbs up—as in—“I get it, Ms. Deaton,” or, “You’re doing a great job, Ms. Deaton.” When she kept giving me the thumbs up, though, I started to think, “What if that means something? What if she needs to go to the restroom and she’s trying not to interrupt class?” So I looked at her and asked, “R, are you just giving me a thumbs up or does that mean something?” “It means that I have a connection,” she said. “Oh, okay! Well…what’s your connection?”

“You know what you just read? ‘Cats stayed with cats. Dogs stayed with dogs. Like stayed with like. And that’s just the way that it was.’ That’s segregation,” she connected. “You are exactly right,” I responded, smiling. “And I’ve heard that you guys have been studying about that in class.”

I was proud of that connection. But I was even prouder of the original connection that let me know what she and her grade-mates were studying.

My assistant principal walked into the music hut with her clipboard and computer at the end of what has become one of my difficult classes. The phrases “bouncing off the walls” and “running in circles” could have been coined by the boys in this class. I cringed. Thankfully, the official unannounced observation was for the next class.

Friends: Even though I do nothing different during observations than I do during normal lessons, observations are still no fun. They make me second-guess my every word and action and amplify every student minor offense into major misdemeanor. So when one of my students wandered out of his seat at least 10 times, sometimes telling me things that correlated with the lesson, sometimes not, I began to wonder how my evaluation would be influenced. But then this happened:

“Ms. Deaton. This is just like black people and white people. Black people and white people used to not get along. Just like the cats and dogs didn’t get along.” “You’re exactly right, C. That’s a great connection.”

(Background: We’re working on a program called “The Unity Tree.” In the program, cats and dogs at first hate each other but then learn to get along.)

A few minutes later, I asked C to share his connection with the class. At the moment I asked him, he was distracted by a puzzle on my desk.

(Sidenote: Elementary students are fascinated by 500-1000 piece puzzles.)

But as soon as C heard his name, he stood straight up, faced the class, and clearly and confidently said: “Black people and white people used to not like each other…” (pause) “…until people like Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr. stood up to stop sl--” (pause with intense thinking face that knew that slavery wasn’t the right word but couldn’t think of the right word) “the stuff.” (pause) “That’s just like the cats and dogs in our program didn’t like each other until someone stood up to say that it was wrong.”

I was so proud of C in that moment that I almost burst. And…that momentous connection had occurred during an observation! Score!

Out of his chair ten times or not, C was paying attention and making connections far beyond anything I actually expected…yet somehow always hope.

Friends: We never know when the words that we say or the things that we do will connect with the eyes, ears, and brains upon which they fall. So may we always act in such a way that when they do, we can celebrate with joy and add the connection to our list of things for which to be grateful instead of our list for which to be ashamed. Amen.