amnestic second chances

I was in the hallway talking with my principal and partner teacher, deciding what to do about a situation that occurred at lunch with one of our students. Therefore, my attention was off of my classroom.

After that got taken care of and I was about to re-enter, I had another one of my very sensitive, soft-spoken, worry-ridden students come out and and he was covered in water. He was holding back tears and spoke in a shaky voice as he told me what happened.

“I was just drinking my water bottle and R reached over and squeezed the bottom of it and it went everywhere.”

To be honest, I was not surprised. The student who did this might be the most high-energy, impulsive child I’ve ever met. He’s hilarious and a joy to have, but he can get himself into some sticky situations.

I asked the student who had water all over him – E, if he was okay. I asked what he needed at this moment and what I could do. I told him I was sorry that happened. I asked if he wanted me to call out R and talk about this all together, to which he responded with a no. So, I said, “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and take a breath, clean up, and come back when you’re ready? I will talk to R about this.” He left.

I turned and opened my classroom door to call R out into the hallway. Before I even said his name, I saw that his hood was up, his head was down, and he walked out to me muttering in a disappointed voice, “I know. I already know.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“E was drinking his water bottle and I reached over and squeezed the bottom of it and it went all over him.”

“Why did you do that?” I asked, in the most neutral, genuinely curious tone.

“I don’t know. I just saw it and my body just did it. It popped into my head and I had to.” He said this all looking directly at the ground.

I asked if he could look at me and I said, “Well, that wasn’t the best choice and I think I can tell from your tone and your face that you already know that. E has been pretty nice and cool to you, right? Do you think we should apologize?” (I don’t know why, but I always talk in “we’s” and “us’s”.)

“Yes.”

I continued, “You don’t have to, I’m not going to force you to apologize. Do you think you want to?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Okay, well he went to the bathroom to gather himself. When he comes back, why don’t you take some time to talk to him, gather yourself, and when you’re ready, you can re-enter the classroom.”

“Okay.”

…

I had taught my mini-lesson and started the students on independent work. E had re-entered the room and I had a chance to talk with him a bit more to make sure he was okay. He was still shaken up, but he said that happens to him and it would be best if he could just sit there, and navigate his emotions as he was working.

At this point, almost 20 minutes had passed and R was still sitting on the cushions in the hallway. Not messing around, not moving, not distracting other classrooms (we have solid windows in our hallways), just sitting. This struck me, because this student never just sits. Ever.

I went out into the hallway and asked, “What’s going on? Did you get a chance to talk to E?”

“Yes.”

“And, what did he say?”

“He said it was okay and gave me a thumbs up.”

“How come you’re still out here, then?”

What he said next made my eyes well with tears.

“I don’t deserve to be in there. I’ve been the worst kid all week. I’m the worst kid in there.”

I immediately sat down next to him and got comfortable. “Hold up, wait a second. Number one, everyone always deserves to be in my class. Secondly, there is no ‘worst’ kid. I do not have a list in my head of ‘best’ to ‘worst’. There is no ‘bad’ or ‘good’ kids, R. There are good and bad choices, yes. But you are not ‘bad’. You made a mistake. I make mistakes.” I paused before I asked, “What is bothering you about this the most?”

“E has been so nice to me and so why did I do that to him?” He said, holding back tears, very confused with himself.

Again, my eyes welled, but I smiled a little. “Do you know what this tells me about you? The fact that you’re sitting out here, feeling bad still, caring about how he feels? It means you have empathy. Do you know what that means?”

He shook his head.

“It means that you are putting yourself in someone else’s shoes and you care how they feel. You have grown so much from the beginning of the year. I used to have to tell you and explain how something might make others feel and now you are doing it yourself. Don’t you think you’ve grown, too?” He nodded, immediately. “How?”

“Well…I used to be worse, and now I’m better, and I used to blurt more and now I’m not as bad…”

“What else? What about your effort?”

“Oh yes, I work harder now too.”

I smiled. “Okay, so where do we go from here? How can we move forward?”

“Not do that again.”

“Yes, and how can we end this day?”

“Good.”

“Yes. Mistakes will happen. We cannot be perfect.” (He interrupted me here to say “There is no such thing as perfect.” which made me smile because we say this a lot in our classrooms.) “We had a blip this morning, we had a trip-up just now, but we still have the choice and time to end this day on a good note. So, let’s go back in, let’s grab our notebook and Chromebook, and work on gathering some research for our topic. Does that sound like a plan?”

He nodded. He came back in, and we ended the day on a fabulous note.

…

It got me thinking, if someone – or everyone – tells you you’re ‘bad’ your entire life, how would you have any way of believing otherwise? Likewise, how would you have any chance of not turning out to be ‘bad’? On the contrary, what if someone told you over and over that you were ‘good’? Isn’t that what you would become then?

We need to speak life into kids. We need to be patient. They are not born knowing how to self-regulate. They are not born with empathy. They are not born understanding that you can make mistakes and still have a “good” day. This does not mean I don’t believe in consequences, it just means I believe in a lot of amnestic second chances.

And I love the fact that my job gives me a say in the words we are consistently pouring into the future of our world.

love always, caitlin