It is not very often that I pick up my children from school. When Rosebro #1 was the only one in school, he would ride with me, but when Rosebro#2 started school, my husband started taking them to school. Of course when they were students at JBE, they would come to my office afterschool, and like many teachers’ kids, rode home with me when my work for the day was done. When they both left JBE, I missed those few moments in the car together each afternoon. Now Rosebro #1 either stays with his Dad at SHS, gets a ride home from our teenage driver next door neighbor, or begs for a ride with a friend’s mom to the golf course. Rosebro#2 stays at his school every afternoon for football practice and on Fridays he rides the activity bus to SHS as he has team manager duties for the football team. So, it was very unusual, when on Thursday afternoon, I had to pick up Rosebro#2 from his school due to football practice being cancelled because of conferences. The car line at his school is long. From a long way back in the line I watched curiously at the preteen social dance of activity taking place. I suppose I am like most mothers and worry about friendships, relationships and decisions of our children. It gave me some relief as I watched Rosebro #2 joke and talk with a group of kids as I slowly crept closer to the front of the line. As I did someone other than Rosebro#2 caught my eye. It was that of a former JBE student. One who was at best description-awkward, socially unaware of the consequences of such behaviors. This student had a teacher in 5th grade at JBE that saw past the awkwardness and found joy. The work of this teacher transformed this student not only academically but emotionally. I saw this student with a group of kids, laughing and joking. It made my heart smile. What may have happened in the strange years of middle school to her had this 5th grade teacher not worked so hard to make this student find her voice. It also immediately made me think of Tina.
Tina was a student in my class 15 years ago. We had a strange departmentalization of core content and I taught social studies to 4 classes and 2 classes of creative writing. It was so very important to me to teach these students the value writing could possess and how expressing feelings, emotions, and wonderings could hold power. I did my own version of writing workshop and spent a great deal of time conferencing with students, helping them edit and revise their pieces, and then building up their confidence enough to share. The community of our classroom was strong. Then Tina entered our class. She was new to our school. She was different. She hadn’t fit in to any one group in the class. The other teachers and I had discussed her- and her lack of work ethic- often in her few weeks with us. So imagine my surprise when during author’s share time, Tina asked to share-even though I had not even conferenced with her on her piece just yet. It was one of those moments as a teacher when you’re caught in a conundrum. The last thing I wanted to do was to harm her eagerness to share-this burst of enthusiasm needed to be celebrated, but I was terrified at the response the other students may give this new student; after all, they knew my expectations, they knew how hard I could be on them-she did not. We teachers have seconds to make major decisions-I so wish I could make non-educators understand this. I let Tina share- while silently praying that this would go well- for all of us. My other students knew that share time was sacred and I was proud, as Tina began, at their interested in her words as she began.
That week in our mini-lessons, we had been working on hooks. I’d been using Disney movies to show how the movies caught your attention in the first few lines of dialogue and how those movies all began with a screenplay-a writing. Tina began with the words “If you could create just one wish what would it be?” I immediately bit my lip and a few kids even looked at me as they knew one of my writing pet peeves was starting with a question. Her next statement made that pet peeve seem minor when Tina continued with, “My wish would be to meet my mother.” Silence. I seriously could hear crickets breathing. She continued to read her words detailing her mother leaving her father when she was a toddler and that she did “Mom” work around the house-cooking, cleaning, and even taking the clothes to laundry mat-always on Friday night instead of Saturday mornings-when it was not so busy (a fact I remember thinking an 11-year-old should not know). Her writing, albeit lacking in complete grammatical and syntax perfection, told a story that had my class intently listening to every word. As she finished her sharing, her last sentence made a tear escape from my eye when she stated, “This is my wish so that every night I would stop dreaming about what she looked like.” Tina took a deep breath and waited for “peer feedback”. What Tina got instead was a small applause from a couple of girls that ended with a loud roar of applause and a few “whoops” from a couple of the boys. Tina’s face will forever be etched in my memory as she brushed her hair, that she often used as a veil to hide her face, to the side to reveal a beautiful smile. Quieting down the class, I thanked Tina for sharing and noticed as she walked back to her seat, the manner her peers immediately responded to her in ways they had not 10 minutes prior.
I realized at that moment-and in many more since then-that our job as educators is so much more than creating great academic scholars. We must create environments where our students are safe enough to learn and grow. Without that type of environment, our students can never be scholars. They will never find their voice. The lack of that type of environment, we harm rather than help our students.
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