I Needed To Know They Had Permission To Do All The Things They Aren't Supposed To Do

My daughter is now a freshman in college, but I clearly remember the first time I allowed her to ride her bike around the block without me.  She had begged. She was quite responsible. She was a very confident rider. After a couple of years of making the trip with her, I knew it would only take about seven minutes. She'd be out of my view from the porch for less than five. As she rode away, I know I prayed as if she was on a solo flight across the ocean.

It hasn't gotten much easier.  It wasn't easier with my son a few years later. We all know a lot can happen in five minutes.  This week, too much did.

On Monday, a bomb threat prank made my school evacuate our buildings. As we relocated to a nearby building and then bused to a church, my phone beeped with an Amber Alert from a town only an hour down the highway.  Knowing my students were safe and our parents were informed, my heart fell knowing another district was dealing with something much worse... a student taken on their way to school. Two other teenagers associated with Facebook friends went missing over the next twenty-four hours.  Praise God, all three of those kids were rescued and returned safely.

Tuesday was different for Hailey Owens.  She was a ten year old child from Springfield, only an hour away from our school, that didn't make it home safely. She was taken by a man and killed.  It was awful. Horrific. And senseless.  I block images that try to enter my mind. The pain the family feels is impossible for most to understand.  

The accused man, Craig Michael Wood, is a teacher's aide and coach for the Springfield Missouri Public School. He was my nephew's 7th grade football coach about 6 years ago.  My sister was obviously surprised.  She said her son couldn't believe it either when she told him. "How can a monster like that hide in our own schools?  How was it not possible for me or anyone else to not see the evil when talking to him?  How can that hide?"

My students didn't seem to know about the incident on Wednesday, but on Thursday, they all did. Towards the end of the day we circled up to chat. I didn't allow big details of the situation to be discussed, but it was obvious that most of my seven and eight year olds knew almost as much as I did. 

We focused on feelings. How did they feel? How did they think the family, friends, and classmates of Hailey feel?  Once again, without scenarios, we discussed the "yucky" awareness that sometimes is felt around certain people. They may not have done anything wrong to you, but you know how uncomfortable you feel.  It may be someone your parents hang out with, someone with your family, church, club, or even at school. But when you sense that awkward feeling inside, that is when you tell someone you can trust. 

We discussed safety practices for walking home from school or a friend's house. Call first. Stay in groups or pairs. Stay alert. "Stranger Danger" situations and other risks .... And then, honestly for my first time as a classroom teacher, I found myself saying things I've only said to my own children. I have always left it up to the counselors or parents to tell the kids the "get away" stuff.  But Friday, as we sat and talked, I needed to know that my students heard it clearly from someone.  I needed to know they had permission to run, scream, kick, poke, hit, scratch, bite, and do anything they could to get away. 

Someone said something to the effect..."So we can do all the things you tell us not to do on the playground."

I said, "Yes, exactly!" 

We giggled a bit. I told them they could always tell me anything. It was followed by a few more wise cracks that lightened the tone enough we could end the day still smiling.

I pray the talk wasn't necessary.  I pray they aren't ever in a situation that makes them feel "yucky" or the need to run.  I just needed to know they had permission to do all the things they aren't supposed to do.

Hailey  Owens 

  

It Was Just "Ordinary"...And That's Wonderful!

Change.

There's been a lot in my life recently. I expect there to be more in the upcoming months.

In the past six weeks I have moved my daughter to a different city, first apartment, and new college, had a health scare in my family, changed classrooms to allow a growing class enjoy our large classroom, and have had my two teenage nephews move in with my family. There were a few moments a bit more dramatic that this description, but I'll spare you. But whew. It's been quite a month.

Things are settling down.  Not to what it was, but to a new kind of normal.

When things were at their craziest, with my home filled with boxes (some incoming, some outgoing, some just going to storage), evening filled with phone calls to figure futures out, and a few rushed appointments. I truly saw and felt what I think our students feel when chaos surrounds them at home.

School was ordinary. And ordinary was wonderful!

For those few weeks, "ordinary" meant safe, natural, familiar, settled, and predictable.

It had nothing to do with the lessons I was still preparing, the seasonal and themed projects I was still doing, or even the interruptions that were still happening.  Instead, school was the one place that I could see a system of organization that made it safe for me to continue to truly be me and forget my worries.  At school, I had the freedom to breathe deeply. I found more hugs. More smiles. And I could giggle.

*Sigh*

I never thought "ordinary" would be a word I'd want anyone to use to describe my teaching, classroom, or school. But if it is, I hope it's because they found comfort in it as I did.