Hope Ya Know, We Had a Hard Time

Yes, yes, I know.  The title of this post is definitely not original.  It comes from a talk given by Quentin L. Cook, and is one of my favorites.  To read the talk, click here.  With that being said, this phrase has been on my mind a lot lately, so obviously I had to blog about it.

Tonight I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some stuff for my mom on my way home.  I walked out right behind an elderly gentleman who was struggling to walk.  At first, I just said hello as I passed him, and kept walking to my car.  Then, I had an unmistakable feeling that I should go back and offer to help him put his groceries away (If I was a good person, I probably wouldn't have walked past him without offering to help to begin with!).  When I got to his car, I noticed that on his license plate, there was some sort of emblem indicating that he had received a purple heart for his military service.  I helped him put the last of his groceries in his car, and he thanked me.  I said, "No, thank you for your service to our country."  His eyes were wet with tears as he said, "It was a hard time, but we got through it."  He then proceeded to tell me a story about how his scriptures had literally saved his life when he was serving in Korea.  Then he gave me a copy of his story, which he just had in his back pocket--I guess he has copies of his story with him at all times.  For the full text, click here.  We talked for a minute more about his time in the military and the struggles he encountered.  I again thanked him for serving, and then he said, "Thank you for listening to the ramblings of an old man.  And thank you for expressing your thanks for my service.  It means a lot to an old soldier."

I walked away with tears of my own in my eyes.  When I got inside my car, I immediately said a prayer and thanked my Heavenly Father for this sweet man who had sacrificed so much in defense of the country he loves.  I thanked the Lord that He prompted me to talk to this man, because I had been truly blessed by the encounter. Last of all, I prayed that this man, who I suspect was a widower and possibly very lonely, would find comfort.  I prayed that he would find people to share his story with.  Because all he really wanted was to be heard.

It is precisely this concept of being heard that has been on my mind as of late.  I have just thought about how important it is for us, as human beings, to feel like someone is listening to us.  Sometimes, we just want someone to know that we're having a hard time--even if that person can't really do much to help us.  We just need to know that someone is aware of us and of our pain.  We just need to know that someone is listening.  

The past few weeks, I have gone to historic sites in Hiram and Kirtland, Ohio, Nauvoo, Illinois, and Salt Lake City.  For some reason, I am a gigantic nerd, and absolutely LOVE going to historic sites, especially when they have to do with the history of the LDS Church.  But I think one of the reasons I love historic sites so much is because I think every story deserves to be told--or rather, every person deserves to have his or her story told.  Everyone has something to offer.  No one should ever feel obsolete.  This is also probably the reason I love reading historical novels, biographies, and autobiographies.  

This is also the reason I have decided to stop teaching and go back to school for a Master's Degree in Counseling.  This was one of THE hardest decisions I have ever made.  My heart still hurts when I think about the fact that I will not be a teacher in the fall.  Every time I think about my students or picture their faces in my mind, I question my decision.  How can I leave them?  But then I picture what those same students look like when they are scared.  I can see in my mind's eye the look in their eyes when they are exceptionally sad.  I can almost feel the wetness of their tears on my shoulder when they have had experiences too big for their hearts to handle.  And then I remember that these kids, and children like them, deserve to be heard.  

The past 2 years of teaching have taught me SO much.  I have learned how to teach reading, writing, math, oral conversation, and even grammar--although how well I taught grammar is questionable.  But most of all, I learned that sometimes a child's ability to learn is made harder by matters of the heart.  How can we expect a student to learn how to read when he just visited his dad in prison yesterday, and is feeling all sorts of emotions that he can't quite explain or deal with?  Or, how can we expect a child to focus on writing when she's not sure if she'll get to eat dinner that night because her mom sometimes just doesn't come home?  It is for this reason that I have chosen to leave this profession and gain more education.  I hope to one day work with children who have suffered abuse, neglect, or have dealt with health crises.  I want to give these children a voice.  I want them to have someone to talk to when they just want to say, "I hope you know, I had a hard time."

The last day of school a couple of weeks ago was a very sad one.  There were many tears shed--by myself and by my students.  At the end of the day, we sat in a circle, and I went around the circle and told every single one of them what I loved about them.  Their eyes lit up as I let all of them know that they were important, valued, and loved more than they knew.  At the end of that time, one of my boys raised his hand and said, "Ms. Keddington, can we put our hands in and say, 'Together Forever!'?"  I said that of course we could do that.  So we did.  

I will miss these kids soooooo much.  They have taught me about love, patience, kindness, hard work, perseverance, and determination.  So of course we will be together forever--they are now apart of me.

"But Ms. Keddington, I still love you."

One of my favorite children’s books is “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.”  I think I love it so much because everyone can relate to it.  We all have days like that every once in a while.  Well, last week, I had one of those days.  It was not fun.  I am not generally known for being super emotional, but that day, I couldn’t contain my emotions.  I cried all.day.long.  Now, it’s not like I was sobbing or anything.  It was more like I was weeping.  I would still teach, it’s just that there were tears streaming down my face as I did so.  But there was one moment where the crying was a little more out of control.  Luckily it was during a time when my kids were working independently while I worked with small groups of kids.  Except for on this particular day, I just sat at my computer for a bit and tried to gain control of my emotions.  One of my little boys came over and said, “Ms. Keddington, are you crying?”  I told him that I was, so naturally he asked me why I was crying.  I said, “I am just very sad today, R.  That’s all.”  He replied, “But Ms. Keddington, I still love you.”  And then he threw his little arms around my neck and hugged me tight.  This obviously made me cry even more.  Then this boy, who is usually one of the “troublemakers” in my class, went around to every single group of kids and said to them, “Guys, Ms. Keddington is crying.  We have to be extra good today and follow the rules.”  Such a sweetheart. 

R. had the best of intentions, but when word got around that I was crying, the last thing the kids wanted to do was sit and do their work.  True to the nature of young children, what they wanted to do was see me crying.  Soon I had 23 children swarmed around my chair and each one of them was trying to wriggle his or her way forward to give me a hug.  I was literally surrounded by love in that moment.  Each of my students was so concerned for my welfare, and genuinely wanted to know what was wrong and how he or she could help.

I decided to take a moment to address their concerns, as well as teach them a little something about love and compassion if I could.   I asked them to join me in a circle on the carpet.  They did so, and for the first time in a long time, they did it quietly!!!!  Once we got to the circle, our conversation went something like this:

“Boys and girls, you have noticed that I have been crying today.  How many of you have ever cried?”

***Most students raised their hands…except for my boys who are too cool for school.

“What are some of the reasons you cry?”

***Answers ranged from someone taking their crackers at lunch, to getting hurt, to being scared.

“From what I’m hearing, sometimes you are sad and cry because of things that just happen to you because life is hard.  For example, when you fall off your bike and scrape your knee, that’s not really anyone’s fault.  That just happens sometimes.  But sometimes we also cry because of things that other people do.  For example, when someone says mean things to you at recess, you are sad because of a choice someone else made.  That is sometimes really hard.

“Well, today, boys and girls, I am sad because someone I care about a great deal has made some choices and said some things that have hurt my feelings.  This is hard for me because I try to be kind to everyone, and it is hard for me to understand why other people would do things to me that are not kind.  Have any of you ever felt sad because of choices other people have made?”

***At this point, many of my students raised their hands and shared things that made them sad.  They included things like parents getting arrested, parents drinking too much and fighting, parents staying in Mexico and sending their son to America, and classmates mocking other students.

***Also, by this point, a few of the children were also in tears, and I was wondering what in the world I had gotten myself in to.  Was I scarring these children for life? 

Then, a beautiful thing happened.  One of my students said, “Wait, F., your dad got arrested?  Wow.  That must make you so sad.  I’m sorry.”  There were murmurs of agreement all around the circle.  This wonderful, beautiful circle of precious children of God.  The next thing I knew, I was just watching as little acts of compassion and love were performed.  V. stood up and got a box of tissues and handed a tissue to every person who was crying.  A. put her arm around J. and started whispering things like, “It’s going to be okay.”  E. said to F., “My dad got arrested once.  I know how you feel.”

My heart overflowed with gratitude as I watched the scene unfold.  When we had come to the carpet, I had been determined to teach them about compassion and love.  But what I realized in that moment was that compassion and love are already in us.  We just have to be taught how to let it out. 

I asked my students if they had ever heard the word compassion before.  Some said they had, but most had not.  I told them that compassion meant caring about other people, and doing whatever we can to meet their needs and help them be happy.  Then I pointed out the acts of compassion I had just witnessed.  I told them that simply being a friend is an act of compassion.  They then came up with their own examples of compassion—inviting someone to play with them at recess, helping a friend walk to the nurse’s office when she got hurt, standing up for a friend who was being teased at lunch.  I pointed out to them that those things were acts of compassion.

Then we talked about why it is so important to be compassionate.  E. said, “Ms. Keddington, we are compassionate because when people are sad, we want to make them happy.”  Such a simple statement, but so true.  We are here on Earth to be happy.  Sometimes things happen that make us unhappy, so we sometimes rely on others to help us be happy.  Sometimes it’s the other way around—other people are unhappy, and it’s our job to make them happy.  Wouldn’t the world be such a better place if people understood that one, simple truth?  When people are sad, we should do our best to make them happy again.  The end.  So much hate, confusion, anger, and fear could be done away with if everyone lived that way.  I know that in those few moments with my students, my confusion, anger, and fear were definitely done away with because of the compassion I witnessed.  Turns out love and compassion work miracles.

And that was pretty much the end of our carpet experience that day.  I wish I could say that my students were kind and compassionate for the rest of the day… but I can’t.  5 minutes later it was, “Ms. Keddington, he took my pencil!”  or “Ms. Keddington, she looked at me!”  But, for a few glorious moments, we all just forgot ourselves for a bit, and loved our guts out.  And for that, I will be forever grateful.

"...Or Maybe They Just Don't Think She's Very Pretty."

As you may have realized by now, I think my students are pretty much the funniest slash cutest creatures on the face of the planet.  For real.  I am obsessed with them.  Lately I have been keeping notes of the funny things they say.  I think it's pretty hilarious.  Enjoy!

A:  Ms. Keddington, I have 2 good newses!  Number One:  I am SUPER fast!  Number Two:...Actually, I don't remember number two.  I'm just super fast."

R:  Ms. Keddington, I have a super funny story... A frog and an ant.  ****Hysterical Laughter.****
Me:  Uhhhh, R., that's not a story.  There is no verb.
R:  But don't you get it?  A frog and an ant.  ****More hysterical laughter.****

A:  Ms. Keddington, guess what I learned today?
Me:  What?
A:  NEVER mess with a woman.
Me:  That's a very good thing to learn.

I have been testing my students' reading levels this past week.  In order for my 1st graders to be on grade level by the end of the year, they need to be on a level 16.  For my 2nd graders to be on grade level, they need to be on a level 24 by the end of the year.  My goal for my students is for them to go up 14 levels in one year, which is essentially a year and a half's growth in just one year.  If they reach their reading goal, they get to wear one of the medals I have gotten for running various races.  It's kind of a big deal for them.  On this particular day, I was testing a first grader, R.
Me:  R.!  You just passed a level 25!  You are now on a 3rd grade reading level!  That's soooo amazing!  I'm so proud of you!  You've gone up 21 levels in just one year!  WOW!
R:  What?!  Now I have to be in 3rd grade?

The next one I cannot take credit for.  One of my coworkers told me this one.
E:  Ms. Ogata, A. told me said that my mom is fat.  And she's NOT fat, Ms. Ogata.  Then he said that my dad is fat.  And well, Ms. Ogata, that's true.  He IS fat.  But my mom's not, so he shouldn't have said that.

In my class, I often have my kids "Kiss their brains."  They do it when they get an answer right, or when they are working really hard.  I tell them that they need to be kind to their brains since they work so hard.
J:  Ms. Keddington, I just kissed my brain, and I think it grew!!!  I am so smarter now!  (again, the English isn't always so good)

I already put this one on Facebook, but I think it is worth repeating.
A:  Ms. Keddington, did you see that?  I breathed and smoke came out of my mouth!  And I wasn't even smoking!  How did I do that?!

And, for the grand finale, my students recently fought over the reasons why I am not married.  This is how it went:
J:  Ms. Keddington, is your husband at war?
Me:  Ummm... no.  I'm not married.
J:  You're not married to a soldier?
Me:  I'm not married at all.
J:  Why not?
M:  Because she breaks up with EVERY boy!
A:  Or maybe they just don't think she's very pretty.
Am:  ***Mortified, outraged gasp*** She is soooooo pretty!  She just doesn't love them!

On a related note, my six year old niece, while talking to my mom about my dating habits said, in a very exasperated tone:  Grandma, how many boys is she going to date?!
My answer:  About a million, apparently.

Ah. Such is life.