Must Be Present To Win
There is one thing I have been thinking about since the last day of school in May and it’s specific to my own school, but maybe some of you can relate. My building is K-5 and last year’s group of 5th graders were . . . . to put it nicely, kind of little stinkers. 😂 Within the first month of school I got a “F**k you, you raggedy ass bitch” because I expected a student to clean up at the end of class. There were several issues throughout the year with blatant: heartbreaking racism, problems in the lunch room and bathroom, girl drama (including fight club at the top of the slide that resulted in several girls being suspended), a sexual harassment accusation against a teacher that was manipulative and also deeply wounding, etc. So, sh*t is real here. The kids are tough and strong-willed. They don’t have the luxury of trusting every adult they meet, and they didn’t have any interest in forming community with their peers.
Our building is only two years old so what we are trying to build in the way of culture, the 5th graders hadn’t completely bought into yet. Their experience with school has been disappointing at best, harmful at worst. AND YET, on the last day of school . . . when every teacher was silently giving Jesus and the liquor store a shout out for helping them survive, guess what happened?! The 5th graders ugly cried! Almost ALL of them. Big, real, honest, vulnerable tears. Chest heaving, weird noise making, I need a hug bawling. It was unreal. I literally couldn’t believe what I was seeing. To my school counseling brain, it all made sense. But to my human condition, it was outrageous. Those of you who know me, know I believe all kids are good. I want to teach them unconditionally and I know that vulnerability and empathy can be taught. But you guys, that last week of school I really thought, they didn’t get it. We ran out of time. They couldn’t accept the love we kept throwing at them. But the reality is . . . they got it, they were craving it, they just couldn’t show it.
HOW in the world do we get them to show it?! Aside from continuing to love them day in and day out and model what courage looks like, HOW do we get them to believe that they don’t have to wear the armor every day until the last day? How do we get them to actually practice feeling safe?
Oh sorry . . . if you came for the answers, I ain’t got ‘em. All I really know is that building a new culture in a school full of kids who have been let down by “school” is hard. Building community in your own classrooms, no matter what kids have been through, is hard.
In July, I went to the Innovative Schools Summit in Vegas (so, Andrew’s European trip? Yes, basically samesies) hoping to walk away with some new ideas or at least some inspiration. There was a little of both - but one thing I’m still thinking about is something the keynote speaker said. He was from Minnesota and shared that Minnesotans do this thing called a meat raffle. I can’t remember who he said provided all the meat, presumably whoever is hosting the raffle or whoever just got home from elk hunting? I don’t know; it doesn’t matter. But they lay all this meat out on a pool table and if you’d like to take some meat home with you, you buy a raffle ticket or 10, or 100. Then, per the rules of “raffles”, if they call your number, you get to pick a piece of meat. Cool. Cool. But here’s the part that matters. Raffle Rule #1: You must buy a ticket. Raffle Rule #2: You must be present to win. This. Whole. Time. Are these the only rules we needed?! From a meat raffle?!
I know you know that this is too simple. Kids and the state of education are complicated. Those rules just bode more questions . . . like, how the hell do we get them to buy the ticket MJ?! And the only answer I have to that question is, of course, another question: What do you have to offer that they will not only buy a ticket for a chance to win, but stay to the end to see if they win? For example, Andrew’s unique gift, pardon me, one of Andrew’s unique gifts is knowing everything there is to know about APA . . . if you buy a ticket to that, let me know how it ends. Just kidding. The prize is you learn that he’s actually an expert on a lot of interesting things and he has a way of inviting you to participate in those things that makes you feel both surprised to be chosen and totally worthy at the same time. I don’t know any kids, or humans for that matter, that don’t want to feel that. One of my unique gifts is reducing shame and providing empathy that I hope makes kids feel less alone. I want kids to buy into the idea that no matter what is happening, there is a way to fix it. It might be hard, but the prize is finding out they can do hard things. I think another gift I have that I don't utilize often enough is sharing my joy. Because I spend most of my days talking to kids about really heavy, serious stuff. . . I forget that it’s ok to make them laugh.
So, again, I don’t have all the answers but I do know that my two goals heading into this new school year - where I’m bound to find more “stinkers” - is to sell as many tickets for empathy and laughter as I can and gift as much empowerment and joy as I can possibly fit on the pool table. Will it solve all the problems we encountered last year? Of course not . . . but I’m not the only one filling the pool table with prizes. If every adult in my building brings something . . . there is hope. Whatever unique gifts you have, please remember that your armored up little turtles need permission to remove their shells. You need to be able to see them to teach them. They won’t practice vulnerability because you tell them to. They will practice when they can see there is a prize worth staying until the end for.
Welcome back to the 24-25 school year! Make it great!