The other day I arrived at work full of stress, my son needed to go to his doctor unexpectedly, yet I had big plans with my students. I didn’t want to leave, but had to go. It’s an awful place to be stuck between the guilt of a mother and the guilt of a teacher, but that’s another blog to be written later. This is a story of hope and learning.
All month we were building excitement for our reading marathon. To help demonstrate the fact that practice is practice no matter the skill, and that stamina is something to be built through practice, I came up with a Run for Reading. The idea was to have the students participate in a fun day of reading in their jammies with stuffed animals for the sole purpose of reading all… day… long. For incentive they were told that for every hour they read, an adult would run a mile. Kids love “punishing” adults so they were sold. After doing some preliminary Math I realized that I would be running about 23 miles, so I decided to illicit the help of some others. Much to my chagrin, not many of my colleagues were into running for some students they didn’t know. In a panic I turned on my charm and sent persuasive email after email, bribe after bribe, and the promise that parents would be invited too so there was less miles to cover, and that did the trick. So, that’s how my reading marathon turned into a community wide event. The same reading marathon that was going to have to be cancelled because my son was sick.
As I stressed over the predicament I was unavoidably wrapped up in, I trudged to find my Teacher’s Assistant to fill him in on the bad news. He was in the gymnasium with students ranging from Kindergarten to Fourth grade preparing to run them through their fitness routine. I heard him bellow, “push-up position” and dropped down. In a sea of students I sat there on the floor, just like them. I thought nothing of it at the time but when I looked around I saw all eyes on me… hundreds of little eyes full of awe, wonder and astonishment. Then the exclamations began, “Ms. Nichols!” “You’re doing pushups!” “Is that a teacher?” I smiled and said, “Of course I’m doing push-ups” to a fourth grade girl next to me. After our eight reps were done, one of my students who happened to be nearby stood up with his shoulders proudly squared and said, “that’s my teacher” with so much pride in his voice that I felt like a super-hero. It was a little moment that had so many side effects I am still now just beginning to realize the impact eight morning push ups can have on a child’s life.
Later the next day I was at the grocery store and one of the Fourth graders from my school was shopping there with her family. She was never one of my students, but I recognized her from the gym that morning. She ran up to me excitedly, said hello and gave me a giant hug. She began to tell her family who I was and again I heard that tone of pride only an innocent child can manage, a child who hasn’t yet been jaded by disbelief, disappointment or any of the other ailments of adulthood and “wisdom.” This couldn’t have happened at a better time.
I literally spent six hours the previous day in tears. I was so upset that my son was sick again, one time in a long list of illness as a result of being born with a severe medical illness. I felt that I had let my students down and that all of my good intentions seemed to be derailed. This little girl, and those eight push-ups helped me to realize the power of actions. Whether I was there or not, my students were learning from me. They learned from my example, not from the few hours I was not with them on one day of school, however important that day was. There are many other days and many other times that they have seen what I do.
I will never forget their enthusiasm the morning of the reading marathon either. It is a reminder that even our smallest actions have a rippling impact on the lives of those around us. In my stressed state I was putting on a smile to get the students excited about their day of reading. I was on survival mode just going through the motions: push-ups, morning message, etc. All the while I was thinking about what a disaster everything was and how all I wanted to do was lie in bed and cry. I was thinking of the 11 parents I would have to call to cancel our after school activities and the eight coworkers of mine that would not be running. I was thinking about me. I was thinking about my life and my stress. Then a student raised his hand. He is largely obese and comes from a family who shares the same genetic makeup. His mind is constantly occupied with video games and he has a special education plan to help him develop enough muscle just to sit up. This morning he raised his hand high, and beamingly announced, “My dad is running for my reading. He has never run before but he wants to run for me.” This set off a cascade of hands and exclamations. Lots of parents were running for their kids. As the kids were announcing and claiming their excitement, I was taking mental note of the misery it would incur, of all the phone calls I would be making to cancel and let people down. It wasn’t until much later, until I saw the pride in the fourth grader’s eyes at the store that I realized the power and impact all of it had. Though I wasn’t there and I only invited parents to lighten my load, I had set off a domino effect of events. Parents were stepping up and showing their kids that they care and that they were proud. They were running for their kids reading. They were sending a message to the loves of their lives that they mattered, that reading mattered, that they were proud of them and willing to show it by running. I realized the inadvertent power actions and examples can have in the lives of others, even when they are unintentional and we are not aware.
Our actions are like matches dropped in a dark hole. However intentional or accidental that dropping may be, the light lasts far beyond where our eyes can see, and we are never fully aware of the fires it may or may not light. Never underestimate the power of your actions and don’t expect to always know the impact you have. Let your light shine.
Cut To It 