You know your students' names, but do you know their parents' names?

One of the many gifts I have gotten in this life is to teach for a living. It is something I was born to do. The child of two exemplary educators, it was encoded in both the nature and nurture parts of my childhood. Regardless, to me teaching is a gift with which I take pride, find stress in and rejoice at the small bits of daily triumph. The second gift I have been afforded is that of being a parent. Like any parent, I find awe in and grow to love my daughters more each day. Nature's response to this in my innate feeling to provide them with the best that I can. The best warm winter jacket, a filling and healthy lunch, a well rested and clean body with which to happily start the day. I also want what most parents want a school that is going to take over where I left off for the day. A place that is going to teach them to read and write and be ready for the world beyond first grade, but mostly a place that is going care about them while doing this. A place where they feel safe enough to ask questions and make mistakes. But, also a place where if they are pushing the limits their teacher cares enough about them to involve me in their choices, not because the behavior is a nuisance and interfering with his or her teaching, but because he or she cares enough to expect better from them.


There is a former kindergartner of mine, we'll call him Lyle (not his real name) who is now a second grader. When Lyle first arrived mid-year in my classroom, he was an expert in pushing the limits of both my patience and the boundaries of what our class had decided was socially acceptable in our classroom. He was an extremely friendly kid, very easily engaged but academically low compared to his classmates and one of only three children of color in the class. His response to work when things became difficult would be to visit with another kid and get them off track, thus diverting the attention from himself (tricky, right? quite brilliant) or become defiant. It took me several weeks to see the patterns. It took me the same amount of time to learn his mother, Gayle's (not her real name), cell phone number by heart.

Sometimes, I would march him over to the phone and we would call her together. She would give him a good talking to and remind him that Mrs. Haen wanted just what she wanted, for him to do his best. We both cared about him. There were other times when I would call Gayle out of Lyle's presence just to check in on things and update her on his progress or struggles.
We got to be a team. She called often to ask questions about her other three children or just to talk.

It became the secret magical tool that I could pull out. The caring and compassionate tool. "I care about you, I care that you learn, I care that you expect the best from yourself just like your mom does." Lyle knew these words. He knew them well.
So well that I'll never forget one day while he was sitting at his table and he saw me walk towards my desk and said, "What you gonna do call my momma?" In fact I was, it was a perfectly normal day, nothing extraordinary, nothing rotten just a kid sitting at his table doing the work that his teacher had given him. I called him mom to report day and she teared up in responding to my consistent caring and compassion in being Lyle's teacher. She said that she had a teacher just like me when she was in school and she never forgot her. She was the reason that she even graduated.

Lyle is a second grader now and has had a string of excellent and compassionate teachers. He still struggles with academics, but not for want of his teacher's caring, he is making the necessary growth. I see him at least once a month and talk on the phone to both he and his two older sisters and mom once a week.

Gayle and I were a team during Lyle's kindergarten year. One of many teams I have been on. Gayle new my expectations were high not because I wanted the smartest kids in my class, but because I cared about his future, his well being and his positive choices. These were the same things she cared about. We should all be so lucky should it be our choice, to be a parent know the deepest depths of wanting the best for our children. This can translate into the depths of caring that we want for our students.

What team are you on? Do you know the names of all of your parents? Give yourself a little quiz and see if you are at grade level with the score. How can the simplicity of caring cross racial, economic and social lines in your school and classroom?

Don't Wait Until Martin Luther King Day

Strategy:

One of the easiest things to do as a teacher is to integrate achievements of people such as Martin Luther King Jr. into your classroom discussions and community year round. Although our government has set aside special time to honor his particular life and legacy, the simple concept of civil rights is a very basic tenant that will resonate with many children as young as kindergarten who can't believe that there was a time in our history when students were sent to different school based simply on the color of their skin.

Each year when I introduce my kindergarten class to the idea fiction and non-fiction, there are bins that are clearly labeled with stickers on the front, F for fiction and NF for non-fiction. Right there at the front of my bins are stories of people such as Ruby Bridges, Madame C.J. Walker, Sitting Bull and of course, Dr. King. Each time I present a story to the class while covering up its classification on the front cover, I will ask if we have just read fiction or non-fiction. We even chant it together while tapping on our legs, "Fiction means pretend. (Clap, Clap, Clap) Non-fiction is real."

One of my favorite non-fiction books, Happy Birthday Martin Luther King Jr., follows the life of Dr. King from a young boy to his death. Mid-way through the book there is a page where Dr. King is on a playground helping two boys solve a disagreement. Before we come to this part,

the books explains how Dr. King worked with people, sang with them, prayed with them and walked with them to help them use words and not violence to solve problems. When reading the page about the playground and I ask the students before revealing the words what they think is happening on the page. Almost invariably they answer, "Dr. King said use your words."

So, the simplicity of this has become a mantra in our kindergarten community. "Dr. King said use your word." Just by sheer biological developmental, students of this age are egocentric and particular about their personal space, tools and placement in line. Often hands do the thinking and push, pull or hurt a classmate before they have even thought of the alternative. As we have practiced integrating Dr. King's ideals into our classroom students now will say to each other when one has become physical, "Dr. King said use your words." This has become a simple non-shaming reminder for students what the expectations of in our classroom community as well as the world beyond our school.

In our classroom, their are three large posters of Dr. King that repeat the written mantra and the students helped to decide where they should be placed as reminders. They are in our group time area, close to where we line-up and just outside our classroom door. Not only does the color of Dr. King's skin match some of my students, but additionally it does not match others.