What if I give all?

 

What if I Give All?

My students and I had an interesting discussion about the tooth fairy one day. After we got past the “Is there really a tooth fairy/Santa/Easter Bunny?” question, we got down to the nitty-gritty -- just how much does YOUR tooth fairy leave?

I told them that back in the stone ages, we got a dime from our tooth fairy, or if she was particularly affluent, a quarter. They guffawed!  

“A quarter!” I always get at least two dollars!” 

Many reported getting five, ten, even twenty dollars. I said that the tooth fairy must have made some good investments since my days or that lost-tooth futures must be skyrocketing.  

Kids seem to have a lot of discretionary income these days. I wouldn’t have known what to do with 20 dollars when I was seven, but my students seem to have big plans for their spending money most involving video games, action figures, or screens. Some are saving for a family trip or pet.  

Parents contribute to this acquisitive nature. We want our children to have what they need and, since we want them to be happy, so we give them what they want. We don’t just keep up with the Jones’s but outdo them 200 percent. So our children have it all. Or do they?    

A first grade boy in Canada heard about some children in Africa who needed a well to bring fresh water to their village. He went home and announced that he would give that village a well. His mother explained to him that this would take lots of money but that didn’t stop him. He started that very day to earn that well. It took him many months but he did it.  

Another boy learned of homeless people in Philadelphia sleeping in the cold and set out to get them warm coats, blankets, and sleeping bags. He began by giving his own coat away. Both boys started with a dream to help others and both have founded charities to help many around the world. Where in the world did they get such courage, compassion and generosity? 

Probably from their parents.  

Children notice what their parents have. Do they have the latest car and computer or do they have time to help others? Do they have hefty bank accounts or do they share their earnings with charities? Do they take or do they give?  

Sean was an ornery little fellow. Often in trouble on the bus or the playground, he gave me a run for my money in the classroom. His life had been pretty tough. At the age of three, he lost his father. His mother wanted to do her best for Sean and his two brothers but was battling demons of her own. He didn’t have a lot of stuff, but he had a lot of spirit.  

On our field trip to the zoo, Sean was my special buddy so I could keep a good eye on him. His grandmom had given him three dollars and he was eyeing the souvenir case hungrily. Waiting behind the others, he noticed a box full of money off to the side. 

“What’s this money for?” he asked. I told him it was a fund for feeding the animals. He looked at me for a moment, glanced at the shining souvenirs, and walked over and put his three dollars in the box.   

Wouldn’t it be great if the next time the tooth fairy visited your child she left a note that suggested that part of her gift be given to a child who needed money to get good dental care? What if your child donated part of his birthday or allowance savings to a child living in poverty. What would she learn?  What would he acquire?  Imagine how the world would change if every child who has, gave to those who have not. It would change the world.

 It can be done — one child at a time.  

Are you blessed or bless-ed?

 

Are you blessed or bless-ed?

I admit it; my mind wanders. Sometimes I catch up with it, but often it gets away from me. I let it go because when I follow it I get someplace I never would have found on my own. For example, while listening to a recent sermon (and I was listening, Pastor), my brain latched onto the word “blessed” and took off.

The word, blessed, can be pronounced in two ways. As one syllable, it means “fortunate” as in, we are blessed to have such a fine preacher in our church. Pronounced with two syllables, with emphasis on the –ed, it means, at least in my mind, someone who gives blessings to others. So the question is: Are you blessed or are you bless-ed? 

One of the many email messages circulating for the last few years defines “blessed” pretty well. 

“If you woke up this morning with more health than illness, you are more blessed than the million who won’t survive the week.  If you have food in your refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof over your head, and a place to sleep, you are more blessed than 75% of this world.  If you can read this message, you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world who cannot read anything.”

Most of us are very blessed, but how many of us are bless-ed? One who has health is blessed. One who is bless-ed visits the sick. One who is blessed eats well. One who is bless-ed volunteers at the neighborhood free-lunch program. One who is blessed has a beautiful home and a library full of books. One who is bless-ed spends a week repairing homes in Appalachia, makes quilts for cold children in foreign nations, supports a homeless shelter, or teaches reading at an Adult Education center. One who is bless-ed shares his blessings.

Dr. Frank Crane, the master essayist whose series of Four Minute Essays has been inspiring me, must have had a wandering mind too. His mind led him to some great thoughts. In his essay “Greatness” he reminds us that the greatest of all must be “the servant of all.” A great person feels the needs of others and strives to fulfill them. He describes the great as “submerging… losing… giving … feeling… caring.” He defines one’s greatness as “the ability to interpret” and fill the needs of others. A great person is one who is truly bless-ed. 

So my wandering mind led me to this thought: Am I only blessed, or am I blessing others? Not a bad thought to take away from a sermon. Not a bad thought to act on. Blessings given away return as blessings received. The most bless-ed among us will also be the most blessed. 

Blowing Away

 Blowing Away

     It had been an extremely cold, wet, and windy winter, and my two-year-old daughter and I had been stuck inside for at least a week. The highlight of our day was bundling up and trekking out to the mailbox. Our mailbox is about 150 feet from the house, so it is a bit of a hike.

It involved putting on the snowsuit, boots, and mittens that toddlers wear, you know the kind in which it is impossible for them to bend, and in which, they immediately announce that they need to use the bathroom right after you button the last button, zip up the last zipper, and pull on the last boot.  

We live on a busy road, so it was my habit to plop my two-year-old on the top of a hill, adjacent to the mailbox but a safe distance from the road, and then walk the last ten paces to the box. My toddler stood with arms outstretched in her rigid snowsuit while I pulled out the mail. Suddenly, a huge gust of wind caught her and pushed her backward. She shrieked, “Mommy, I’m blowing away!”  

I tried to run up the hill to grab her, but this was a particularly fickle wind gust, and while it was pushing her up, it was pushing me down. I struggled against it, crying in frustration, yet laughing at the absurdity of the entire situation. My baby was ten feet from me and yet I couldn’t reach her, the hand of an invisible wind keeping us apart.  

As the years passed, I often reflected on this moment. I had bundled her up, placed her in a safe place, and done all a mother could do to protect her child, and yet the cold cruel world was carrying her away from me. As she grew, I continued to try to protect her, but as I did, I realized that I also had to let the wind take her away. 

First, it was kindergarten. How I cried after I put her on the bus that very first day! Twelve years of firsts followed. The first friend gained and lost, the first triumph and failure, the hard-won and lost battles of childhood. Every time, I tried to help but was often pushed away as she began her own struggle against the winds of the world.

And my daughter caught the wind too. She finished high school and college and then joined the Peace Corps traveling farther than I could have ever imagined when I first rocked her in her cradle. Her global travels were vast, and her spiritual wanderings matched them. She learned about the joys, troubles, and philosophies of the world. And when the wind set her down, she grew.

On that long ago windy day, the gust gave way and I grabbed onto my little girl. We laughed together as the tears streamed down our faces and I carried her back to safety. I told her that the wind would never get her, that Mommy would always save her, and that she could never blow away. 

But I was wrong. The winds of the world do blow our children away. If we are lucky, the wind blows them close now and again so that we can laugh and cry together. We can’t always protect them, but we can give them the love they need to spread their arms and embrace whatever life brings their way. And we can hope that there is always someone there to catch them in love when the wind lets them go.

An Open Heart

 

An Open Heart

In August, Jay bounded into my second-grade classroom. “I’m going to have a great year,” he announced. His happy smile and open heart made him many friends. 

In October at parent conferences, his mother told me that she had divorced a few years back but that Jay saw his father frequently and seemed to have adjusted well.

In December, we made a paper chain to count the days to Christmas. With every link we removed a child would share a Christmas wish. Most children wished for toys or special trips. When it was Jay’s turn, he said, “I wish that my mom and dad would get back together.” Surprised, I responded with general assurances and we moved on.

In January, Jay ran into the classroom with eyes alight. “I have great news! My mom and her boyfriend George are getting married on Valentine’s Day!” Jay and George’s two children were participating in the wedding party and Jay couldn’t wait.

In early February, I got a call from Jay’s mom. Her father had died and they were postponing the wedding. Jay wanted to come to school so she wanted me to be prepared. When Jay arrived, he shared the news with the class. His friends gathered around and we gave him a group hug.

In April, Jay bounced into the classroom with exciting news. His mother was expecting twins! We bounced up and down with him.

June came and we put together our memory books, Jay raised his hand. “I had a great year. When I started, I was an only child. Now my family has five children!” 

I’ve often thought about Jay over the years. Jay’s year didn’t go as he expected. His parents didn’t reunite. He lost his grandfather. Three strangers moved into his house. Twins, who could take attention from him, were expected. Yet, because he had an open heart, he was ready to welcome whatever came his way. 

I ask myself, Is my heart open? Am I ready to welcome whoever and whatever comes my way? Opening your heart is not easy but when you do unexpected joys can enter. 

Jay’s year began and ended with a smile. So did mine. 

A Chicken in the Back Seat

 

A Chicken in the Back Seat

7/21/99

“Move it, you %$#^%$#%!” The roar of a motorcycle and the curses of its rider shattered the serenity of my early morning walk. I looked ahead to see a biker nearly kissing the bumper of the car in front of him. A stream of invective poured from his lips. He shouted at the top of his lungs. I could hear him, but I doubt that the object of his venom could. The car’s driver continued at his unhurried pace as they passed me.

I shook my head and continued my walk. I understood. I had once been a hurried driver. Slow traffic drove me wild. What were these people doing on the road? Didn’t they know I had to get somewhere and get there fast? I especially despised drivers who took what seemed like a week to make a right-hand turn. If you don’t know how to drive, get off the road why don’t you?

 

But that was before I took a chicken to school.

My second-grade class was enjoying a unit on farms. Ever the inventive teacher, I decided to bring a little bit of the barnyard into the classroom. Our daughter kept a few bantam chickens in a coop in our backyard. One particularly docile chicken by the name of Pumpkins would just love a trip to school. Or so I thought.

My husband constructed a chicken carrier from a few boards and some chicken wire and my daughter cozied it up with some straw. Pumpkins obligingly walked in. After scratching around in the straw for a few seconds, Pumpkins nestled down and looked perfectly comfortable in her new home.

I placed the carrier on the back seat and set off for school. Pumpkins clucked contentedly as we rushed along — until we took the first corner. The wheels went one way and the cage went the other. The chicken carrier flew end over end with Pumpkins tumbling inside. I stopped the car and set the cage upright again, but this chicken had had enough. Feathers flew as she battled to get out. A maniacal squawking filled the car.

I arrived at school with a frazzled chicken and a car that looked like a chicken coop on wheels. Brushing away the feathers, and trying not to look at the other not-so-pleasant deposits Pumpkins had made, I carried my visual aid clucking into school. 

Pumpkins calmed down and the kids enjoyed meeting her. I drove home carefully and had a less eventful ride. But the experience set me thinking. Where was I rushing anyway? More importantly, why was I so critical of other drivers who were taking their time, doing the speed limit, and driving defensibly? Maybe they had a reason for their caution.

Angry drivers fill our highways. Road rage is a national epidemic. Cars weave in and out of traffic on our superhighways trying to gain a few extra seconds advantage during morning rush hour. Fender-benders abound as commuters vie for parking spaces or race to beat a light. Drivers pass on double yellow lines and blind curves to be the first to get to the stop sign. Slower motorists are cursed and nearly run off the road. An extensive language of gestures has evolved to express our rage.

I decided that not only would I drop out of this race to nowhere, but that I would also remember to be gracious to those on the road driving to a different drummer. Instead of growling, I hummed. Instead of shaking my fist, I waved cars ahead of me. I waited my turn at four-way stops. I allowed others their pace. I slowed down, calmed down, and cheered up.

So the next time you feel impatient on the highway or wonder why that car ahead of you is taking so long to turn into the supermarket parking lot, relax. Maybe they have a good reason for their caution. 

     Maybe, they have a chicken on the back seat. 

Everybody Ought to Have a Globe

 

Everybody Ought to Have a Globe

When I was growing up, my father wouldn’t tell me anything. Well, he did teach me philosophies and morals and stuff like that. But when I asked him a simple question, like, “What does obsequious mean?” he would point me toward the dictionary and say, “Look it up.” What kind of help is that?  

He wouldn’t tell me the location of Liberia or the circumference of the Earth, or how spiders killed their prey. He was a library man. When you needed to know something, you went to a book and looked it up. If you couldn’t find it in a book, you visited a museum or got out a globe or a microscope or telescope or a spider and found out yourself.

So I learned how to find out. When I had my own children, I kept my tools close at hand. I had my trusty encyclopedia and when questions came up – Bam! We found out the answers together. I always wanted to keep it in the kitchen where it would be really handy (and where I seemed to be most of the time).

My kids and I found out a lot and, as a teacher, I continued this practice. It is much easier, of course, to just answer the questions children pose. But it is much more productive to teach them how to find the answers themselves and more fun because you are doing it together. 

So I am suggesting a list of tools all parents and teachers must have in order to raise curious and independent children, at least academically.  

1. Everybody ought to have a globe. I love my globe. Every year, I put a happy face sticker on our state so we could orient ourselves and then ventured out with my class into the great world. When we looked for any country, river, ocean, or island, we always started by pointing out where we were (like all those maps in malls – YOU ARE HERE – how do they always know) and then traveled. Maps adorned my walls. Again, we started by saying, “Here we are in our town, in our state, on the eastern coast of the United States, in the Western Hemisphere,” before setting out on our journey. The kids got a good sense of place and distance.   

2. A dictionary is amazing (astounding, astonishing, remarkable, wonderful, marvelous!) A thesaurus is great too. A teacher always refers to “my friend the dictionary,” when word issues come up. A dictionary is not just for spelling. It is full of interesting information about word origins and histories, maps, diagrams, and photos. My students loved browsing through it or searching through an online dictionary.

3. A magnifying glass enlarges learning.  Studying things up close opens up your eyes and your imagination. Pull one out and become a detective. The universe which is invisible to the naked eye is as diverse as the world around, above, and below us. Get a telescope and sky map too!

4. A pencil and pencil sharpener are vital to learning. Highlighters, crayons, colored pencils, and pens are important too. Keep records of what you learn. Draw pictures. Label diagrams. Take what you learn and embellish it with your kid’s own ideas. Lead others to what you have discovered.

5. An inquiring mind needs texture. Folks today usually turn to a computer or TV for details. While efficient, these are not nearly as satisfying as unfolding a map, thumbing through the mighty OED (Oxford English Dictionary – Unabridged), or crawling through the grass looking for beetles. Feel the facts. The more senses you involve in learning something, the more you retain.

So don’t tell your kids everything.  Teach them how to find out for themselves. Join them in their pursuit. Oh, and by the way:  “Obsequious: willingness or eagerness to...”       

No, I think I’ll let you look that one up yourself. 

Preparation H(helps)

 

Preparation H(elps)

One spring, the second-grade teachers at my school did a very brave thing. We took three classes of seven-year-olds out to lunch at a smorgasbord restaurant. Imagine—more than 60 squirmy kids loose in public with food in their hands. It could have been a fiasco, but we weren’t worried, because we knew the secret of “Preparation H.”

“Preparation H” translates to preparation helps. I learned long ago that preparing children for new situations and experiences prevents a lot of problems.  

Our daughter was a toddler when her two big brothers were just getting involved in big kid activities. After a few soccer games spent chasing her up and down the sidelines and one dreadful drama experience where she averaged seven questions per minute, I realized that we needed a game plan for sharing these great times as a family.

So we set out to fill little sister in. I didn’t know a lot about the game of soccer, but I did know that each team was trying to score in a certain goalpost and which color her brother’s team wore. We kicked the ball around a bit at home and she got the idea. Now she could be a cheerleader and we could actually watch the game.

When her big brother was cast in his school play, we went to the library and got out recordings and books about the story. This was in the days before videos or DVDs, but even in those primitive times, we used what we had to explain the story and by the time we got to opening night, she was breathless with anticipation. She followed the plot and almost sang along with each musical number. Her brother was a huge star in her eyes and later, when she was a big kid, she caught the acting bug and stepped before the footlights herself.

Every teacher does this. We prepare the students so that they can really enjoy and understand the experience. What would be the point of visiting Philadelphia without knowing about the Declaration of Independence or Ben Franklin? Wouldn’t it be great to know how potatoes are grown and which states grow them before visiting the potato chip factory? Wouldn’t you read an author’s books before meeting the author? Sure, you are going there to learn, but won’t you learn more if you have some background on which to rest your new information?  

Parents can do this too. How much more fun will it be to visit great Aunt Gertrude if the kids know about the time she “sweetened” the lemonade with salt or hid her baby brother’s trousers in the old oak tree? So you have to sit and wait while your brother gets his braces adjusted? Why not get a really gross book from the library with ugly pictures of the insides of mouths to study while waiting? Kids love that stuff. Use your imagination, do a little research, take a little time and have a whole lot more fun.

For two weeks before our smorgasbord visit, we drilled the kids in appropriate restaurant behaviors. We talked about the other diners. We practiced our table manners and used quiet voices. We discussed how many desserts were appropriate. We chanted, “I will wait my turn and eat everything I put on my plate.” We even sent home a note detailing restaurant manners for the parents to review with their student and sign.  

When the yellow school buses pulled up at the door, we saw the faces of the other diners and could almost read their minds: “Where are all these kids from?  Oh gee, guess my meal is ruined.” 

We fooled them all. Every single kid behaved beautifully. That place never heard so many Pleases and Thank yous. We were so well-behaved, that the waiters came and thanked us. We had learned the lesson of preparation and it really helped.