The Good Juju: July 2015

I recently finished my first year teaching elementary students, and I've never been so frustrated, so encouraged, so exhausted, or so thoroughly entertained.

Here are 9 lessons I learned from my students this year:

1. Kids can be blunt.

During my first week on the job, a 2nd-grader raised her hand and told me, “Your makeup makes you look like a clown.”

Later in the semester, a first-grade girl asked, “Did you even brush your hair this morning? Because it’s sticking out all around your head.”

“Yeah . . . like a lion!” a boy piped in.

Granted, I’m sure they were right—my makeup area doesn’t have the best lighting, so getting ready in the morning is literally a shot in the dark.

2. Kids can be sweet.

Thankfully, my kids know how to boost my confidence, too. Whenever I walk down the hallway, I’m attacked by surprisingly forceful hugs and cries of “Mrs. Steelsman!” (no typo).

On my birthday, the first-graders gave me handmade cards, most of which showed my hair sticking straight out to the side like Pippi Longstocking. And for the first time in my life, I was actually the tall stick figure. (Dreams really do come true!)

I got one card that read, "You are the best techr usr." I also received a picture of me and a student on a sinking submarine. If it was meant as a metaphor, I'd rather not know.

(Pictures at the bottom of the page!)

Another day, after a lesson on Daniel, an all-too-naive 4th grader looked up at me through his rose-colored glasses and said, “Mrs. Steelman, Daniel sounds a lot like you.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’m afraid of lions.

3. Kids can be politically-incorrect.

At the start of each class, I allow my students to say one fact about themselves—their favorite LEGO pack, what they did over vacation, how many hours of video games they played last night, etc. Because kids tend to be followers, the first student to answer usually sets the standard for the rest of the class; if she names her favorite sport, the rest of the kids name their favorite sport, too.

In one of my more diverse classes, the first student chose to share about her ethnic heritage, declaring “I’m Haitian and Irish.” And, of course, her classmates followed suit.

Student 2: “I’m Jamaican and Irish.”

Student 3: “I’m Haitian and Irish.”

Student 4: “I’m Puerto Rican and Irish.”

Student 5: “I’m from Trinidad . . . And I’m Irish.

You get the point.

We go through the whole class, each student proudly proclaiming Irish roots, until we get to the last student in the room, a quiet girl with pale skin, blue eyes, blonde hair, and freckles.

“I think I’m just Irish,” she said shyly.

The rest of her classmates stared at her in utter disbelief.

Finally, the first girl declares, “I’m sorry, honey, but you are not Irish.”

Later in the year, that same freckle-faced girl missed class two weeks in a row. I told the rest of the class that it had been so long since I last saw her, that I couldn't even remember what she looked like.

Since most of the students don't understand sarcasm, they all stared at me in complete shock and horror.

One boy shook his head angrily, exclaiming, "How could you not remember what she looks like? Just look in a mirror and you'll see her!"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Frustrated by my lack of understanding, he stood up and yelled, "You're practically twins! You both have blonde hair, white skin, and YOU'RE NOT BLACK!"

4. Kids can be surprisingly mature.

I made the mistake of trying to play Bible trivia with my first-graders. After about thirty minutes of re-explaining rules and reminding students not to repeat answers that have already been guessed (ten times . . .), I gently told them they weren't acting like very good listeners, and that maybe we'd have to save the game for next year, when they were a little older.

As soon as I finished talking, one of the boys stood up and said, "Mrs. Steelsman, thank you for rebuking us."

"Yes," a girl added. "We know you're only disciplining us because you love us and want us to become better people."

5. Kids can be way off-topic.

I've always believed that school should be discussion-based because that allows students to share ideas and to be actively engaged in the material. So, early on, I tried to provide my students with plenty of opportunities to speak. I encouraged them to give answers, ask questions, and share from personal experience.

Rookie mistake.

See, teachers and students have a bit of an unspoken agreement: I call on you, and you offer up a relevant comment or question. But I've learned that most younger students simply can't handle this responsibility.

Let's say I ask, "Have you ever accomplished something that nobody else thought you could do?" These are the types of responses I'll get:

"I scored six goals in my soccer game."

"Can I please go to the bathroom?"

"I like to play soccer, too."

"I just wanted to tell you that Joey keeps bugging me."

"When are we gonna play a game?"

And each class has at least one student who tells the longest, most-detailed stories—all in one breath.

I watched a movie on Tuesday, or Wednesday, I think it was Tuesday, and there was a dinosaur who destroyed I think it was New York City, and everybody was running from him, and there was a little boy eating ice cream, and it was mint chocolate chip, and while I was watching it my younger sister started to cry but I kept watching it because she cries about everything, and she always wants to use my iPod but I never let her...

Oh, and another thing: You can NEVER let students give prayer requests. You end up taking twenty minutes to learn about kittens, Minecraft levels, Little League games, and cuts that don't actually exist.

6. Kids can be realistic.

One of my third-graders was misbehaving a bit in class, so I half-jokingly told him, "I hope I don't have to tell your mom that you weren't a good listener today."

He just shrugged and said, "Eh, she's pretty used to it."

7. Kids can be naive.

Another day, that same boy announced that he was simply too lazy to do his work.

"You know, it's not very good to be lazy," I said.

"I don't care. I'll just get a butler."

"How are you going to pay for a butler?"

"My mom will pay for it."

After I told him that I doubt his mom is going to pay to get him a butler his whole life, one of his classmates joined in on the conversation.

"Yeah," she said, "your mom will probably stop paying when you're, like, 25."

8. Kids can be touchy.

Early in the year, I announced to the class that my voice was weak because I wasn’t feeling well. One boy raised his hand and said, “Aww, Mrs. Steelsman, I wish I could come right up and just rub your belly to make you feel better.” I politely declined his offer, but a week later, as I was standing in my classroom talking with another teacher, I suddenly felt something touching my stomach. I turned around to find that same boy rubbing my belly from behind.

So yeah, kids can be affectionate.

In fact, my students are so affectionate that I didn’t have to initiate a single hug until March.

One of my younger students struggles with sitting still—okay, they all do, but he regularly sprints around the classroom like he’s RoadRunner, so he takes the can’t-sit-still trophy. One day, he asked me if he could color, so I handed him a piece of paper and a few colored pencils and relished the peace that came from quieting him down for a few moments. As I continued on with the lesson, he walked over to me and showed me his picture.

“I am a 0” was written in black and gray.

I took him aside and asked him what the picture meant.

“I’m a zero. I don’t have any friends and I’m not good at anything, so I’m just a zero.”

Now, I was boy-crazy as a little kid, but this was the first time a first-grader had ever broken my heart.

I opened up my arms, and he burrowed his head into my shoulder, his small body shaking with every sob. If you know me, you're probably aware that I’m terrible at consoling people; I usually give them a pat on the back and offer up an awkward attempt at a joke that falls painfully flat, ensuring that they will never again seek solace from me. So here I am with a 6-year old boy crying in my arms, and I have no idea what to do. I just want to show him that he’s loved.

I remind him that he is smart, and fast, and funny. I mention the classmates he normally plays with. I tell him how much I enjoy having him in my class. I assure him that God loves him and thinks he is wonderful.

After class, I showed his teacher the drawing and discovered that this was not the first time he had drawn/written something of this nature.

That night, I came home disappointed with myself because I had no idea how to help this kid. I didn’t know what else to do, so I began praying for him and begging God to give me wisdom.

The next week, he again asked if he could color. I said “yes” but spent the rest of the class anxious about what he would draw this time around. Toward the end of class, he came up to me and proudly handed me a colorful drawing of “Lego Batman.”

“Can you hang this up?” he asked with his huge, proud, handsome smile.

I now have a small collection of his drawings taped to my chalkboard, reminders of how wonderful he is, and reminders that every kid needs to feel loved.

So I guess the third piece of knowledge I gained is this:

9. Kids can steal your heart.

It’s impossible not to fall in love with your students—at least when they’re as awesome as mine.

Oh, and I also learned that first-graders give the best birthday cards: