Coming Out in G-Force
Real
life learning happened on Friday at Morton Ranch Elementary, and experiencing
this was daunting and beautiful, all at the same time. It wasn’t part of the
curriculum or in the lesson plans, but it quite possibly might be the most
important lesson both my 4th graders and I learned this year.
The
moment I picked up my Little Gs (my term of endearment for them) from lunch in
the cafeteria, I could sense something was off, something was wrong. They
walked solemnly towards me, not bouncing with energy like usual, several
students had tears in their eyes. As I walked down the line to gain a better
understanding of what might be going on, I took a moment to look into the eyes
of the kids who were and weren’t crying. They all looked similar with varying
degrees of despair and sadness. “This can’t be happening,” I thought to myself.
I quickly thought of a recent TED talk I watched on Twitter about emotional
stress in young students and thought of the dabbling I had been doing in
studying mindfulness (thank you Kate Henninger) and decided going back to the
classroom to “check off a lesson” would be counterproductive to these kiddos’
well-being. We exited the cafeteria and headed for the front porch of the
school. Looking back, maybe this decision was just second nature for me, as so
many problems have been solved in my life by talking them out with trusting
folks, on a beautiful day, on a porch.
We
all sat in a circle, some wanting to be close, others trying to not to be part
of the group. “Thumbs up if this is a class issue, or thumbs down if this is an
issue concerning a few people?” I asked. All 19 kiddos put their thumbs up. As
luck or divine intervention would have it, our Zoe had a koosh ball with her.
“Zoe, can I borrow your koosh ball?” Zoe tossed it to me. “Nobody can talk
unless this is in their hand.” I instructed. What followed was a respectful,
purposeful REAL conversation among all of us. It began with students saying
there were arguments among them in a previous class, something I was unaware
of. Before the conversation could turn into a “he said, she said”, the kiddos
were reminded to only speak on THEIR actions, not those of others. This began
with apologies to each other for their actions towards their peers. Students were
taking pride in apologizing, taking ownership, and asking for forgiveness. They
were doing this without trying to make excuses for their actions. I witnessed
students who, at first, I could tell were not going to admit wrongdoing. These
are my tough as nails boys, but then as they heard others apologizing to them,
their faces softened, their hearts opened, and these tough as nails boys couldn’t
get the koosh ball in their hands fast enough to ask for forgiveness of those
they had wronged. This was powerful and beautiful, yet I knew we had to get to
the root of the issue. These kids hadn’t been mean or petty all year long. What
was causing this? And then it was said…the smallest student in our class
vocalized for the other 18 the “WHY” behind all of this. “I don’t know why this
is happening, why I am acting like this, Miss Glasscock. I’m stressed and I
just don’t want to lose these friends I’ve made. I just got them and some are
leaving.” Almost in unison students burst into tears and/or begin fiercely
nodding their heads in agreement. There it was…19 students looking at me for
answers on how to face…their fear of
change.
As
students continued to talk it out, I began ferociously texting Ms. Harrison and
Mrs. Carr. “They will know how to handle this better than I,” I thought. No one
wrote back. No one answered the phone. No one came. Funny thing is, I knew they
were in meetings in the conference room that had a window looking out to where
we were sitting. I wondered if this was the way it was supposed to be. That
together, these 19 beautiful souls and I could figure out how to conquer this
fear, a fear I, myself have struggled with throughout my 33 years. I asked one
student to go grab a book off of my small group table, while the others were
talking, listening, validating each other’s thoughts and feelings. “Why is Katy
doing this to us?” one student looked at me and asked. I tried my best to
explain that change was part of life and that Katy ISD wasn’t doing this to
them, they were doing this to help all students have exactly what they needed
to best learn, that we were getting too big, so more schools needed to be
built. I even told them about how the same thing happened to me as a little
girl, in Katy ISD, with the building of Fielder Elementary and Beck Junior
High…how my friends and I were separated, not once, but twice…how it made for a
special bond between the Katy High and Taylor High classes of 2001. Some took
comfort in knowing that we were alike, others weren’t having it. “Channel your
inner Julie Harrison, your inner Kelley Carr, your inner Christina Dismuke,
what would they say or do? How can we turn this negative into a positive?” was
my inner dialogue.
Julie, Kelley,
Christina
After
letting them talk it out, I asked them if I could read them a book. They agreed
and so I began reading the picture book, “We Shall Overcome: The Story of a
Song” by Debbie Levy
and Vanessa Brantley-Newton. It was a long shot, but I was going to try and make a
connection and turn this situation into an empowering one for these kiddos. If
you are not familiar with this book, let me give you a quick summary. It is all
about slavery, race relations, and the journey of equality and doing the right
thing between blacks and whites. The book walks the reader through history,
showing the reader that even in times of struggle, strife and pain…there was a
reason to sing, to celebrate, to believe that “we will overcome” this obstacle
in front of us.
As
I read, the faces of my precious babies softened, their tears weren’t falling
as hard, and one by one I saw them move closer, hold hands and lean on one
another. The message of the book was healing not only their hearts, but mine as
well. What these precious children don’t know is that I have been struggling
with this change too, knowing that MRE staff members are embarking on a new
journey to open a new school, worrying about losing friends and part of my
support system. I wondered how many adults in our building are dealing with the
exact same feelings these 4th graders are dealing with, even the
ones that are excited to go, don’t want to leave others behind. I kept reading,
trying not to think about the power of this exact moment too much, knowing I would
turn into a puddle of emotion, if I did. My voice quivered a bit, but I knew it
was okay for these 4th graders to hear me being real. I looked up
and a few students were getting up and went to stand on a line, a crack in the
cement. At first I thought, “What are they doing,” but before I could make
sense of it, they made sense of it for me. In the most genuine, quiet, orderly
fashion, the rest of the students followed. They all stood as one, side by
side, on that line, arms around each other, now swaying as I sat on the
concrete finishing up the book, “We Shall Overcome”. When the book ended they
all clapped and as if it were scripted, the biggest group hug in the entire
world happened.
There was no more sadness, there was hope. We went back to the classroom and brainstormed ways we, this class of the most beautiful souls put together for such a time as this, could communicate and stay in touch. Email? Texting? Apps? Websites? We don’t have it all set in stone yet, but together, 19 4th graders and one humbled teacher, are building a plan to keep the lines of communication open and OVERCOME our fear of change. Yesterday, REAL LIFE happened at Morton Ranch Elementary, and it was the most beautiful lesson I have ever witnessed. 19 empowered 4th graders supported each other, worked through a tough growing pain and TAUGHT the teacher something so much bigger than anything in the curriculum.
Miss Renee Glasscock
