One of those secrets that are probably best not known outside the internal arena of elementary education is the way children can sometimes be described in order to compartmentalize the right information with the right child....basically, a step in the sanity scale to keep it all straight. It isn't meant to hurt or to stereotype, rather it is to not let all of the information run together in your head creating a disastrous and messy chunk of mud that we try to call to a brain. For example, if a little guy comes to school every day and cries, he will then be (at least temporarily) known as "The crier", and to further share if a student is hitting another child, then he would probably be called "The hitter" and so forth. I know we shouldn't have labeled kids, but believe me it was done in the most pure and sincere form of humor, which helped us get through the not so funny aspects of the challenges and pain that some children face. We had "The pooper", "The pee-er", "The pincher", "The kicker", and no doubt a few more that have been lost in the mud swamp that tries to remind me is my brain.
Samantha was my "Cookie Girl". No less than several times a month, Samantha would show up at my door with pictures she had colored at home, cookies she had baked with her Mom or some other token to let me know that she thought I was pretty special. Petite, blond and perfectly groomed every day with the crispest uniforms and artistically, well balanced, blond pigtails, her blue eyes were filled with a sweet spirit that conveyed an innocence that was genuine. Principals aren't supposed to have favorites, but the reality is that even principals are human and some kiddos are just more adorable, more likable, and more approachable. In an effort to hide my preferences as best as I could, I was well aware that Samantha was one of my favorite students and it wasn't just because she made a great chocolate chip cookie. I remember one Saturday I had run to the grocery store and was in one of those outfits and state of disrepair that I deeply hoped I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. My shirt was ill-fitted, my pants were hardly fit to paint the house in much less to go to the grocery store, and my hair was owned by a large clip so that it didn't sprawl all over my face. No make up...no fancy shoes....an attire not worthy of even riding in my car was my unfortunate choice of the day. So, as I leaned over to find the freshest tomatoes in my tattered and not so lovely attire, I felt this wallop of two small arms wrapped around my knees. Stunned, I caught myself from falling and looked down to see that Samantha had discovered that even her Principal went to the grocery store. Yes. we human principals ate food too. I was just glad in my non-made up and "What Not To Wear" garb I hadn't scared the poor child away. Samantha loved me almost as much as I cared about her regardless of how I looked. Years later, I can still feel her sweet arms around my knees.
Each year, one of the routines that was an expected task of my job was to complete the evaluation process on all of my teachers. I was one of the lucky ones because I had such a terrific staff and this was yet another opportunity for me to not only tell them how terrific they were, but more specifically to show them why. Ms. T was certainly one of the favorite teachers of our parents and students. Ms. T, was a young, energetic and an eye for every detail kind of educator--the one we all want for our children. She deeply cared about every one of her students and took their successes and failures as if they were her own. So, there I sat trying to fit my body into a primary grade desk. Do you remember what a primary chair looks like? A masterpiece of physics with blue plastic backs and bottoms, they measure about twelve inches off the ground and have a complete surface area of about 10" by 10" for an derriere. My derriere hadn't seen 10" in a long time and sitting on that chair was a real step toward torture. With my 4 inch heels, my knees only had 8 inches in which to support my legs from the bottom of the seat to the ground--now, think about that one. Finally, giving up that my rear was simply too large and my legs were too long, I found a bigger chair and dragged it into the room so the formal observation could begin. Finally, I was ready with pen and paper in hand and legs happily outstretched.
Ms. T began her warm up exercise and just as I expected the classroom was full of kids who were raising their hands, faces with smiles and an eagerness that I envied. Samantha, sitting close to the front of the room in her pristine uniform had a face full of energy and a look that said "I want to raise my hand but....". The land of but was a place where none of us want our children to dwell and sadly, it was a frequent destination for Samantha. The lesson continued and the children responding to Ms. T moved with their dry erase slates to the floor. Ms. T moved about knowing just when to restart the next part of the activity. It was like art and science to watch her teach. She placed her hand on Samantha and slightly louder than a whisper, "Just give it a try, ok? I know you can do it!" and with those blue eyes, Samantha looked up and desperately wanted to please Ms. T more than anything else on Earth. Picture 24, 3rd graders talking, exchanging ideas and writing on boards--the organized chaos was delightful. The brightness in Samantha's eyes were a little less vibrant and amidst the liveliness of the class, I realized I was at the somewhat unfortunate angle to see that Samantha was struggling to join in.
Her eyes wandered, her face became more stoic and intense and her dry erase marker were at a standstill. Then, I was encouraged that her pen was moving. Continuing to watch her, I saw that she was writing the letters and words that she could see on someone another student's slate. Stunned, saddened, I could see that my cookie girl had come close to perfecting the art of being who we wanted her to be. Those artistic pigtails, that perfectly groomed uniform and that sweet spirit were of a little girl who was dealing with a greater challenge than any of us had known. She was not cheating, she was surviving, just the way we wanted her to. If the game is to look pretty, be sweet and bring presents and spew back the answer the teacher wants, then everyone is ok...everyone is happy even if what we were seeing wasn't real.
Samantha...such a sweetheart and in my moment of realization knew that we had created this wonderful school that this little girl was willing to go to such great lengths to fit her round peg into the square openings that other children filled so easily.
Some people deceive by choice and some like Samantha simply made choices to survive so that all we noticed were the artistically balanced pigtails, pristine uniforms and yes, the chocolate chip cookies.
A new day and a new challenge--to look beyond cookies and pigtails.
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