Trust - GS Tattler

I didn't even attempt to write a Tattler on Tuesday or Wednesday because I just couldn't describe the days. Tuesday was about the worst day I can recall at school. The kids were not only off the wall, but not even explainable. Wednesday was completely different. I never received more hugs and more "Miss Judy's" in my life as a teacher.

I wondered a lot yesterday why the two days were so extremely different, and I came away with a sick headache and the idea that it is really a matter of trust.

On Monday, we all came in to school not quite ready to begin after the storm. We probably should have closed. Edith and I were really torn up about the storm. It wasn't the destruction, it was the whole picture of loss. Even getting to the school presented problems just to begin with, and following through with the day was secondary, and I think the kids read the unsteadiness.

On Tuesday, we used the same disciplinary routine we always use to round up the problems from Monday, and it failed utterly. We couldn't have had more disruption. There was biting, kicking, punching, and rock throwing. Every rule we have was broken all day long.

On Wednesday, I went to school with a sense of utter failure. It began as it had begun the previous day, and I thought - Lord of the Flies revisited. I took the loony kids aside and hugged them. I talked softly to them, played with them and spent the afternoon with one or another of them in my lap. They were exhausted, they were glad to get a lap and some gentle words. It was remarkably healing for me, and we had not a single problem with behavior all day save the few little incidents in the morning. Some of the more "dynamic" kids were as docile as lambs.

Trust is the essential word I think. These children want to know that no matter the problems outside in the world, that their little world at school will remain the safe, playful, on target world it promises to be when they walk in the door. No matter how upset we are, no matter what has gone on, we have to be the same bulwarks every single day. They trust that we won't just dissolve on them, and quite frankly, they have a right to that.

Trust is a two way street, however. When one of us is bothered by outside concerns, we take them to one another. When a child's home is upset by something we should know about, even without details, "Martha is upset today because we're having problems at home." That's enough, but without that knowledge, we don't know why Martha is off the wall.

I'm currently upset because my mother has had a stroke, and my daughter Anne who is studying in the Middle East is so close to Amman. She is coming home at Christmas to stay. I'm relieved, but counting the days. Yesterday as we spoke of Amman, the phone went dead. "They do that," said Anne. "They don't want that kind of thing spoken about." It's all very frightening.

Rachel is moving, Miss Molly is pregnant and we are hoping for twins. Mrs. St. Louis is going to attend her son's wedding in Australia. These are all good things, but disruptive things.

Trust to a child means we will always be the same, always understand what they are saying even if we have to fill in the gaps and change around the words. With other things like the storm or family issues on your mind, sometimes it's hard to put it away to reorganize words from a three year old's mouth, but this is what they expect and trust we will do. It's a tall order, but there is no teacher at school who is not up to that. I think Miss Rachel gets the child award this week for her Kiddy Awareness.