Yesterday I shared the Harriet Tubman quilt with the fifth graders. (click on the "Harriet Tubman" category below to read about the quilt & last year's 5th grade project.) We've been telling them stories about heroes of the Underground Railroad - Harriet Tubman, Henry Brown (who thought outside of the box by mailing himself inside of a box to freedom), Eliza (who stepped across the frozen Ohio River, babe in arms to escape slavery), and others.
We talked about why we tell stories- stories of heroes and our own stories. Heroes- so that we can remember and emulate them. Our own - to know, remember, and reflect on the choices we make. I said to them, "Harriet did not have an easy childhood, she was not treated fairly or kindly, but she made choices to rise above, to do better, and to help others. She took control of her story and helped others with theirs. We get to make choices, too. We may or may not be able to save three hundred others, but we can make the very best choices for ourselves. We can make a difference. We can do good."
At this point one boy raised his hand, "We can make a difference right now. We don't have to wait until we grow up."
This boy. This boy has not been making good choices for himself or for others. He has been unkind and behaved in bully like ways.
I looked at him straight in the eyes, "That's right. Every act you do, every word out of your mouth is a choice to make things better or worse. It's up to you what your story will be."
Later, during math, he was screwing around, not trying. After sending him to a new solitary space, I went over and sat down. "Look at me. You are a smart beautiful boy . . . Look at me. You are so smart. I have seen it. But you are not taking care of yourself, or those around you. I am so sad that you are not making smart choices for you, you deserve better. You deserve the best. Make the very best choices for yourself. Take care of you and those around you. You can have an amazing story." His head was ducked down again, I figured I had probably gone on too long and stopped, and then I saw a tear fall down his face.
Oh, I hope for him, and his story.
