Freshwater in Parched

 

Each year around Thanksgiving, 

I give my students the opportunity to make a word cloud of things that they appreciate about their teachers.

It’s always interesting how some classes are so very descriptive 

While other classes barely have anything to say. 

It’s also interesting that the kindergarten students 

Cannot distinguish between things about their teacher and things about their day. 

Feeling safe and loved by having structure and routine, 

Going to lunch, encore, and recess,

All of the things that teachers must do,

Equate to appreciation for the younger kids. 

 

In addition to the normal

Helps us learn, nice, and pretty that I often hear, 

A couple of highlights of this year’s word cloud making were when 

One student said that he appreciated his teacher simply because she was alive. 

He appreciated her for being a person and all that that means. 

Another student said that he appreciated his teacher for always being there.

And another student said that he appreciated his teacher for giving so much to teaching.

I thought those students were pretty perceptive.

 

On the flipside, I was taken back when I came to a student who said, 

“I don’t have anything to say because she’s always rude to me.”

Another student in that same class echoed the sentiment by saying,

“She doesn’t like me. She hates me actually.”

And a third student said the same thing. 

What made these statements worse is that the other kids in the class agreed.

Not that the teacher hated everyone, but that she didn’t like those three students and treated them poorly. 

 

I found that sad.

While, as a teacher, I know that there are certain students that we struggle with,

I also know that most of us don’t truly hate our students. 

They are kids. 

They are products of their parents and a very broken societal system. 

We don’t hate the kids. 

We hate the circumstances that make them act out. 

We hate that our hands are tied in discipline. 

We hate that we work so hard for so little respect. 

We hate that we give so much and get so little in return. 

Teachers carry a lot. 

And so sometimes, 

I fear, 

Kids misread our body language, tone of voice, and actions. 

At least that’s what I hope. 

 

I’m happy to report that each of those students did find something good to say about their teacher

Upon further reflection.

And I’m also happy to say that that teacher was just as happy reading her word art as everyone else.

It was neat, seeing teachers immediately read what their students said about them.

It was as if they were parched in a dry land, 

Needing freshwater to drink.

 

May we, as individuals, offer that freshwater freely,

And may we, as teachers,

Know our worth and value. 

May knowing our worth and value help us rise above 

All that we hate, 

And may our students know that they are loved for just being alive. 

Amen. 

Prayer in School

 

Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did. 

 

I’m practicing in the auditorium with my 4th and 5th graders this week. 

We have a program on Friday night. 

A church meets in the auditorium on the weekends.

Some of their instruments and unassuming stuff is still on stage. 

At the end of rehearsal this morning,

One of my students walked up to the prayer request station 

And quietly asked if he could write a prayer. 

I told him yes. 

So he did. 

Another kid joined him and asked me how to spell Vietnam. 

As the original student walked away, he wiped tears from his eyes.

 

Like I said, maybe I shouldn’t have let them use the church’s materials

To write a prayer during school hours. 

But I did. 

And at least for today, 

I’m not sorry. 

Anger Issues

 

I have a student who is a very good musician. 

He is super sweet when he’s in a good mood,

But he has major anger issues when he’s not. 

He’s been doing well in my class this year,

Sitting at my desk and drawing to keep himself focused and calm,

But last week, he wandered away from my desk and started bothering some classmates.

When I told him to come back over to my desk—

Not because he was in trouble but because he does better at my desk—

He got mad.

He started mumbling.

“Man, I hate school.

I’d rather be doing ANYTHING but school.

I hate school.

I hate everything about it.

I’d give anything to not be here—

I’d go anywhere else.”

And he kept on going.

Then a classmate joined in,

“It’s okay.

This torture will be over soon

And then we can go to lunch.”

“I hate lunch.

Lunch isn’t even fun anymore.”

And they just commiserated with one another

About how horrible everything was.

All the while,

I was listening and trying not to take it personally.

Especially the part about
“This torture will be over soon.”

 

There’s a lot I could say about this situation,

But I think what strikes me most is

The little sting that stung when I heard my class called torture.

I know, these two children have no idea what true torture is.

But in their 4^th grade brains,

Sitting through music class while learning a Preamble Rap

Was torture.

What a dramatically strong word for something so minor as

Being redirected and then not liking a song!

And what a powerfully stupid word to hurt me.

 

But it did.

A little.

Because words are so very powerful--

Even words from children who have no idea what they’re saying.

 

So may we choose our words wisely,

What we say and what we write,

And may we model healthy emotional expression to the children

Who are hurting,

And my goodness are they hurting.  

 

Amen.

Little Pumpkin

 

Each year during fall,

I buy little pumpkins and gourds for my classroom.

They serve not only as decorations but also as

Visual examples for lessons with Kindergarten and 1^st grade.

 

Last week, I unpacked my pumpkins during my exceptional children’s (EC) class.

One of the students immediately became fascinated by the pumpkins

And started playing with them.

He even drew faces on them.

I later found out that he was mimicking a shape activity that they had done

On the smartboard in their classroom!

 

As the class left, I gave one of the pumpkins to the EC teacher.

Two days later, she wanted to use the pumpkin in a teaching activity

But the pumpkin was gone.

When she asked the fascinated student where the pumpkin was,

He said, “Home.”

She said, “L! That pumpkin wasn’t yours!”

He said, “Ms. Deaton. Musica.”

She said, “Ms. Deaton gave it to me!”

 

As the teacher was telling me this story, laughing,

I got choked up.

“He knows my name?” is all I could think and say.

He’s autistic.

He doesn’t talk much.

When he does, it’s usually gibberish Spanish because he’s either happy or mad.

He comes to music with his EC class and with his mainstreamed class,

But he doesn’t usually directly participate in the lesson, and

He’s never said my name.

Not to me.

But he said it to his teacher.

“Ms. Deaton. Musica.”

And it made me cry!

 

I make it a point to say my student’s names every time they come to class.

I try to say their names when I see them in the mornings, in the afternoons, and in the hallways.

I know that names are important.

But I didn’t know that MY name was so important until

I heard that teacher say it as L said it.

“Ms. Deaton. Musica.”

 

I AM

Ms. Deaton,

Musica.

And inasmuch as the title sometimes drives me crazy,

It is a privilege

To be a pumpkin bearer

And a joy sharer

To the least of these,

Our children.

 

Amen.

Heart-Flipping Moment

 

I had a brief moment with Kindergarten today

When my heart flipped.

I was doing some hand-eye coordination activities with sticks

When one of my students,

Whose name I often say

Because he needs a lot of redirecting,

Became fully engaged.

 

I looked down and he was standing right under me.

He had chosen two sticks to match my sticks

And he was following my motions exactly.

In one heart-flipping moment,

We locked eyes,

His little dimple pronounced in concentration,

Smiled,

And nodded at each other in solidarity,

As if all in the world was right,

Because in that moment everything was.

 

In a world where it seems that more goes wrong than right,

May we hold to the heart flipping moments

When all is at peace and

All is well and

Even the most untamed of the

Kindergarten space cadet cats

Is focused

And trying

And succeeding.

 

Amen.

Chocolate Pudding

I saw something on car rider duty yesterday that I can’t unsee.

A 4th grade boy,

Constantly dirty,

Excitedly went up to his 2nd grade brother,

Also always dirty,

And exclaimed with wonder,

“Look what I got in my bag!”

He was holding up a chocolate pudding cup.

He was talking about the bag of food that he gets each week from backpack buddies.

He was so happy.

A few moments later,

The 2nd grader asked Heidi The Librarian if she liked popcorn.

She said yes.

He then pulled out a bag of microwave popcorn from HIS bag of food.

He tried to give her his precious food.

And food to these boys is precious.

I know that sometimes they go without.

He explained that they didn’t have a microwave.

So Heidi took the popcorn with the plan to pop it for him and give it to him tomorrow for snack.

He was thrilled.

There’s a 3rd brother, too.

Older.

All three boys are being raised by a single dad who is doing his best

To raise them right

While working his blue collar job.

They may be dirty.

But they never stink.

They may be hungry.

But they are not neglected.

They are good, respectful boys.

And if I could,

I would give them

All the chocolate pudding in the world.

On Showing Up

 

Just as I arrived on family vacation, I received a text that one of my student’s mothers had died.

Her funeral was this past Saturday.

I had the time and availability to go, so I did.

I thought it would be good for the student to see a friendly face from the school.

Heidi the Librarian went with me and ended up speaking at the funeral.

The student’s kindergarten teacher was also there.

 

The mom was a nurse at the local hospital.

She graduated from the local community college and because of this was honored by something called the Nurses Honor Guard.

Two nurses dressed in traditional nursing attire read A Nurse’s Pledge, A Nurse’s Prayer, and honored the work that the mother had done in her life.

After that, one of the nurses rang a bell 3 times.

After the first ring, she said, “KP, report for duty.”

After the second ring, she said, “KP, report for duty.”

But after the third ring, she said, “KP, you have been released from duty. Job well done.”

It was very moving.

And something I had never seen.

 

After the funeral, we went through the receiving line and spoke to the family.

I only waved to the student because he was feeling very shy,

But I hugged the grandmother who I’d often seen in the car rider line,

And I know she was glad we were there.

 

I know this sounds strange,

But if I could create any job in the world,

Then I would create a job doing exactly what I did on Saturday:

Showing up and holding space for students, families, and teachers when they need it most.

And if I could do this as a representative of the local school system,

Then I could create a Teachers Honor Guard and honor the work of lives well-spent in teaching.

 

….

 

A chaplain to the public schools.

That’s my heart’s deepest desire.

If we believe in multiple intelligences,

Then we cannot ignore the spirituality within us all—

The yearning for something more—

The desire to connect on a level deeper than we understand.

 

….

 

20 years from now, I doubt my student will remember that his K1 music teacher showed up at his mom‘s funeral.

Then again, maybe he will.

Either way, he and his family were being held in light and love and goodness and prayer

On that day,

In those moments,

And they lived through them,

Surrounded by people journeying with them,

Connected to something so much deeper than themselves.

 

Oh God: Help us to show up for one another and honor one another both in life and death. Be with my student as he learns to navigate life without his mama. Help him always to remember her love for him and help her legacy to live through connections even she will never know. Amen.

Why Are You Always So Busy?

 

I hear a lot of things from my students.

Some are silly.

Some are serious.

Some warrant further investigation.

Some are better left as passing statements.

But last week, a Kindergartener said something that I just can’t shake.

She said,

“Ms. Deaton, why are you always so busy?”

And I am.

I’m always busy.

I have e-mails to check,

Lessons and programs to plan,

Notes to write,

Spreadsheets to organize,

Things to do.

Oh yeh, and I need to teach the kids.

To save my voice, my feet, and my sanity,

I often get the kids—especially the younger kids—started with a song or activity and then Supervise them to make sure they don’t hurt themselves or one another.

While I supervise, I sometimes multitask on the computer.

It was during this multitasking that my student asked,

“Ms. Deaton, why are you always so busy?”

I didn’t know what to tell her.

Why AM I always so busy?

It’s true. I am.

Always busy.

But why?

 

Last week, I wrote this for my staff:

In the movie Frozen, little sister Anna asks big sister Elsa if she wants to build a snowman. For so many reasons, Elsa says no. Likewise, we live in a world where students, children, grandchildren, families, and friends are constantly asking us to build snowmen, but, for so many reasons, many of us say no. Yet the world is starving for snowman builders. The world is starving for the commodity of time. So this Holiday Season, in the hustle and bustle of it all, let’s try to make the time to build some snowmen, and then when we come back in January, let’s continue building. Our snowmen don’t have to be perfect. They just need to get off the ground.        

 

You know…

I think my student, in her question of my busy-ness,

Was asking if I wanted to build a snowman.

And I accidentally said no.

 

Dear God: Help us to slow our busy-ness and to build more snowmen. Amen.

Octopus

 Somehow,

And I’m not sure how,

I found out that one of my students, K, likes octopuses.

(This is the same student I wrote about a few weeks ago

Whose father died suddenly over the summer.)

Because I have a soft spot for said student,

I decided to give him an octopus book that I found in my classroom library.

 

I laid the book on my desk so that K would see it when he walked in.

He lit up the moment he did.

“A book on octopus!” he said.

“Did you know I like octopus?” he inquired.

“Yes,” I responded.

“How did you know I liked octopus?” he questioned.
“I just did,” I responded.

And then he opened the book and began to draw a shell from its pages.

 

About 15 minutes later,

Out of the blue, K said,
“Wait. Who is giving me this book?”

I said, “I am.”

He said, “You are?!”

“THANK YOU!

THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH.”

Then he came around my desk,

And gave me a huge hug.

“Thank you,” he said again.

“You’re welcome,” I said, smiling.

 

There are a lot of difficult, hard things happening in this world,

And thanks to the media,

We seem to know all about them,

All at once.

Quite honestly, it’s overwhelming.

But in the midst of all that’s bad,

There is still so much good.

There is still so much right.

 

May we be a people who try to hold to what is good and right,

Who smile at the simplicity of 1^st grader’s exclamation of their love for octopus,

And who take heart in the genuine sincerity of a child who has lost so much in his short life,

But who is determined to truly live nonetheless.

Amen.