I walked with a school family member before school recently, discussing the upcoming day and conducting some invaluable hallway collaboration. As we met students, we said, "Good morning!" to individual and groups. Most students nod or respond with a "Good morning" or "Hey, Mr. Cholz" or the like. (Yes, some of my students call me by odd reincarnations of my name, but it is done with fondness, so how can I be upset?) Anyway, as we progressed down the hall, greeting students, I noticed one student who, as I said, "Good morning," turned her eyes to the floor. For some reason, it hit me harder than it probably might have, so I turned around and caught up to her.
Long story short, she was having a bad day. In fact, she was having a bad year. We talked, she smiled, and we came to an agreement that she needed to come see me more often even though she doesn't have me for class this year and her only class in my wing is at the other end of the hall.
I guess where I am heading with this is that we just don't know. Initially, I could have taken her disregard of my morning greeting as simply rude. Dang kids anyway. That would have been easier, and I could have moved on in my conversation and gotten to the end of the building much more quickly. However, that would have been malpractice on my part. My job is to teach kids. Sometimes, that means asking someone how the day is going; it might be the first time someone has asked, and that may be what that kid needs at the time. You never know just how important a seemingly simple word or act can be at that moment.
I remember years ago, I had a student in class who was a sensitive soul. Upon returning from lunch one day, I noticed the girl was upset, something that was reinforced when she left the room and hurried to the bathroom just as she was supposed to present an assignment to the class. I didn't know what had happened at lunch to upset her, but when she returned to the room, another student interrupted me. These two students were not especially close, but had gone to school together for years. The student interrupted me to ask if she could present her assignment in place of the other girl. "It would really help me out if I could go first, Mr. Kohls." She turned to the upset student and asked, "Do you mind if I trade you spots? Please?"
That little act of kindness completely changed that student's day, and possibly her self-perception for a long time. She had been excluded from a group in the cafeteria, and that simple request to trade presentation slots told her she had someone who noticed, and someone who would help her out. The Good Samaritan had nothing to gain from the switch; she was just being a good person. But it had a serious impact.
My sophomores are currently studying Fahrenheit 451. In the novel, a character named Granger states that every person needs to leave an impact:
“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my father said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there. It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away.” (150-151).
As a teacher, I feel blessed to work with people. I hope to leave a positive impact of some sort on the people I meet each day. Sometimes, I get caught up in the idea that what is going to impact kids and others around me are the "big deals": the perfect lesson that leaves the class in awe, the curriculum redesign that leads to engagement and achievement, or the initiative that shifts the culture of the school. Those are all important, but in the grand scheme, in the lives of those we see in our classrooms and in our hallways each day, the impact of the little things, the daily acts, may prove more significant. A single drop of water, repeated hundreds or thousands of times, can break through stone. A positive word, a smile, or nudge of encouragement, repeated day after day or moment after moment, can have a positive effect of the same magnitude.
