Life Curriculum
I taught kindergarten for 12 years and it was every bit a part of who I was as my dimples, my loud laugh and wearing high heels to teach. I made my mark in that building. (Literally. You should see the pock marks I left all over the linoleum floors of that place!) But mostly, I left my legacy in my students. My babies. MY children. If you only knew one thing about me as a teacher - outside of my consistent shoe choice - it was that I. LOVED. MY. KIDS. And that’s what my students were. They were my kids.
At the end of every school year I cried. I created a slideshow to highlight the unique personality of each class and I cried. I did side by sides of first day of school work and end of the year work to help them understand the magnitude of growth they’d made and I cried. I read All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten by Robert Fulghum and I cried. I cried because I was proud. I cried because they were moving on and I would miss them. I cried because I loved them. But I think part of me cried because they were going out into the world, away from my guidance, outside of my influence. I am not so arrogant to think that I would be their only great teacher. But I knew that within my classroom, our home, our safe space, they were protected. They were kind. They looked out for each other while they encouraged and challenged each other to be better. They had limitless potential and believed that they could reach it because they believed in themselves. They believed in each other. And I know that the outside world can be so harsh and scary and cruel. I didn't do them a disservice by not setting them up for the real world. I gave them a glimpse of what the world could be if they could all internalize the culture that we had in our classroom, together. When we were together in those four walls it was special.
One of my favorite classes is graduating this year. My first kindergarten class in a ginormous classroom after teaching 1st grade in a trailer. I taught them how to read. I taught them to be friends with people who aren’t like them. I taught them to recognize and accept their emotions and healthy ways to work through them. I taught them more than they’ll ever need to know about apples and pumpkins because it was my integration focus while I went through my National Board Certification. I taught them the Cha Cha Slide and the Tooty Ta and how to box step for the Kindergarten Ball. I taught them to celebrate and enjoy life as we had as many theme days as I could squeeze in to our curriculum.
As I see their tiny little faces in graduation caps & gowns all over my feed (because I will always see them as five year olds) I can’t help but think about all of the things I hope I taught them. All of the things that I hope they remember. All of the things that I want to pour into them all over again as they leave high school and go off on their own to college.
For my mini-me who was so thrilled to have me surprise her at her high school graduation (the excitement in your face is something I will never forget). For my kindergarteners who are already in college. For my kindergarteners who are also graduating this year. For my kiddos who will graduate in upcoming years. For the ones I run into in Target, the ones I follow on social media and the ones I may only ever see again in my yearbooks. Here’s what I hope you learned under my care:
Your brain is a muscle and it will work for you but you have to flex it. You have to choose to make it grow. You don’t flex it once and say “I’m done” and “I’ve learned the thing.” You have to practice. Keep flexing. Keep thinking for yourself and challenging what you think you know. Because here’s the cool thing about the ability to learn: it never ends. And not only can you keep learning, but you can unlearn and relearn all over again.
Which means that nothing you’ve been told ever has to be final. Sure there are truths like 2 + 2 = 4 but what did you really learn there? That you can have something and get more. That you can be something and become more. And also that 4 - 2 = 2. You can have something or be something and lose. You can lose friendships, relationships, even knowledge. But you don’t have to stay as you are. Because when you learned that 2 + 2 = 4 you also learned fact families and the concept that there isn’t one right way to make 4. It can be 1 + 3 or 3 + 1 or 5 - 1 or 100 - 96. You get to decide how you get to the right answer. And if you make a mistake and end up with an answer that you didn’t expect, YOU GET TO TRY AGAIN. Flex your brain muscle and find a different way. Don't give up because you ran out of fingers to count on. Find some pop cubes or bears or borrow fingers from your neighbor and work it out until it makes sense.
Like I read to you as you exited my classroom, I will say to you again:
Share everything. Play fair. Don’t hit people. Put things back where you found them. Clean up your own mess. Don’t take things that aren’t yours. Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody. Wash your hands before you eat. Flush. Warm cookies and milk are good for you. Live a balanced life: learn some & think some & draw & paint & sing & dance & play & work every day some. Take a nap every afternoon.
Be kind and make friends. But be more than kind. Be gracious. Take loving people too far. Hold hands when others think it’s silly. Call your friend when they randomly come to mind. No, don’t text her. CALL her. Just because. Just because maybe she needs you. Tell people that you love them. Risk it even if it means they might not give it back to you in return. Love people well. Give them permission to do the same and you will start a ripple effect of people honoring each other instead of looking out for themselves.
Say you’re sorry. But not because someone said it’s what you’re supposed to do to move on. Learn to apologize from a place of humility. Because you recognize the hurt or inconvenience or confusion you caused and you are genuinely aware of how it affects other people. Apologizing is not weakness or admission of defeat. It takes strength, self-awareness and humility to apologize. Especially when you choose to say it first. Especially when you don’t want to. Especially when the other person has wronged you as well. Humility is what makes you a leader, not being first in line.
Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that. Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we. And then remember the Dick & Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.
Be aware of wonder. Celebrate every single little thing in life that you can. Pretend that every day is Cowboy Day or Beach Day or Yellow Day or Pajama Day by choosing one thing to focus on and celebrating it fully. Honor birthdays and don't agonize over getting older. Recognize new jobs and first dates and new friends and accomplishments. There is something good about every day. Find it and notice the smile it puts on your face. Who cares if it’s silly? Don’t let anyone minimize your joy. You will find whatever you are looking for, whether it’s positive, negative or apathetic. So look for the good and acknowledge it. Every now and then take something totally normal and routine and blow it out of the water just because you’re alive and you can. If five year old you (and 20-something teacher me) thought it was fun then, it’s still fun now. Look. Keep your eyes open and don’t let the patterns of life hide the specialness of every day.
Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation. Ecology and politics and equality and sane living. Take any one of those items and extrapolate it into sophisticated adult terms and apply it to your family life or your work or government or your world and it holds true and clear and firm. Think what a better world it wold be if we all - the whole world - had cookies and milk at about 3 o’clock in the afternoon and they lay down with our blanks for a nap. Or if all governments had as a basic policy to always put things back where they found them and to clean up their own mess.
When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands & stick together.
Erwin McMannus said “We do not see the world as it is; we see the world as we are.” If you don’t like what you see, who you are, you are becoming, change it. Unlearn and relearn and try it again. You can only bring to the world what you’ve experienced so have the courage to be brave and make a change and go after it. Change it. Face it head on. Take a risk and make yourself, your space, the world as beautiful as you want it to be. The world we knew inside those four classroom walls. Not only is it possible but I am still, and forever will be, believing in you. Here for you and available. To encourage you, challenge you and believe in your potential until you can see it for yourselves. And then I will believe in you even more because I know you. I know your hearts. And I know that if anyone can shine in this world, it is you.
I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge and thank my principal, Jeff Ruppenthal, for allowing me the freedom to do all of these things and more. Thank you for trusting me as a professional to make calls for my classroom. Thank you for giving me permission to add fun, engaging, interactive activities to my curriculum and recognizing the value that it added instead of thinking for a second that somehow letting kids laugh while learning would take away from their academic growth. Thank you for being a principal who was supportive without being overly involved. I was at my best - and had the freedom to take my students to theirs - when I was working under your leadership.