100 Posts in 100 Days
I’m staring at this white page, knowing what I want to write and I’m feeling anxious. It’s not my finest moment. But it is unforgettable and it taught me an invaluable lesson about my communication and how I show up with and for others. So, I’m going to write it and I’m going to share it.
My first few years teaching were at US public school located in a neighborhood with several churches as well as housing developments that provided assistance to low income families. The combination of the two meant that a number of community services were accessible to immigrant families. In particular, our school served a number of Russian and Ukranian immigrant families. (Yes, that has been sinking in lately.)
I was a 2nd year teacher and it was often the case that new students to our school who had limited English proficiency were placed in my classroom. One reason was that it enabled teaching assistants who worked in the language support program to see students in small groups for longer periods of time than if they had been spread across classrooms. One day, a tall, slender, boy from Russia joined my class. He was new to the United States and did not have any English skills. His name was Simen. When he arrived at our school, his name was spelled S-e-m-e-n, but by the time he walked through my classroom door, he was Simen. To this day, I wonder how he and his family feel about that? If he has, yet again, changed the spelling of his name. I can see the intent in this action, but I wonder how it felt to have a stranger in a strange country make that change with limited communication about the reason why?
Simen exuded energy. He had bright eyes and a wide smile with crooked teeth. He was constant curiosity and constant motion., constant curiosity, and constant smile. If it was within reach, he wanted to touch it, hold it, investigate it. As a new teacher, I was still trying to figure out all aspects of teaching, including classroom management. I didn’t know how to harness this young boy and his zest for life. Honestly, it’s now that I can write the words “his zest for life”. I’m confident that is not how I would have described him when he was in my classroom.
I knew 2 words in Russian: “nyet” (no) and “садиться” which means “sit down” and is pronounced sah-DEE-tsah. I used them often. Firmly. Loudly. Accompanied by aggressive and sharp finger pointing. I thought I was being “commanding” and direct with my tone and my gestures. Then the day came when I watched other students mimic me. “SIMEN! NYET!” They raised their voices. They pointed their fingers. There was nothing commanding about their behavior. It was outright demanding. It was my turn to be put in my place. Observing these imitations was an abrupt, and necessary, wake up call. I couldn’t even Imagine what it must have felt like to go home after a full day at school, full of things to discover and experience, having repeatedly been told by the teacher to stop and sit down.
Worse, I couldn’t accept the fact that I was creating a culture of disrespect and with a lack of empathy in my classroom. My students were watching me, my words, and my tone. I was setting the expectation for how we treated one another. They were following. I am so grateful for the day when my students revealed to me, in all of their innocence, what I was doing. They taught me a lesson I needed to learn.
I wonder about Simen a lot. Where he might be now. What he might remember about those days in 2nd grade. I carry a little piece of him with me each time I think about my tone, my language, and my gestures. Each time I pause and reconsider how I can engage with kindness and empathy, I remember Simen and wish I could tell him “благодарю вас”. Thank you.