A Testament to Great Teachers

I wrote the following piece about my son Town after his 1st grade awards ceremony in 2018.  It serves as testament to the power of giving children ownership of their successes.  

Today was the first grade awards ceremony at my son's elementary school. Every child walked across the stage with a backdrop detailing his or her self-described greatest accomplishment this school year as well as a list of all the awards he or she earned for scholarship and character. Many children were proud of their math scores, reading levels, and sports prowess. Their accolades included certificates for the “Great Gator” award and “iStation” award. Every child marched across the stage into the warm embrace of his or her teacher and accepted a packet filled with tokens of their triumphs.

My son, Town Hancock, didn’t get an award. He made appropriate gains in his studies. His behavior was acceptable. However, he did nothing academically exceptional this school year. He is amazingly, perfectly, wonderfully "average"… and that’s okay.

In fact, it’s more than okay. It’s magnificent! My boy is right on track. I’m glad that his school honored his growth but didn't over-indulge him with accolades for doing exactly what he was supposed to do in first grade. I’m glad that they praised actual effort and celebrated hard-earned results. I’m glad that his teachers didn’t commend him for simply doing the right thing *most* of the time.

Town didn’t get an award, but he was downright jubilant when his name was called. You see, his teachers gave him a way to claim and publicly celebrate something for which he is truly proud.

My son walked across the stage to accept his reading certificate while the screen displayed the quote he provided on his greatest perceived success of the school year. Despite getting limited time with digital devices at home, Town said:

“I am most proud of finding diamond ore in Minecraft.”

Bold choice considering some of the other children's celebrations...

Towner understands he has a lot to learn, but he’s comfortable in his own skin. For a boy with one ear… For a child who struggles to sit still… For a kid who never thinks twice about telling the joke, making the face, or letting one rip… For an individual whose stubbornness rivals only that of his mother… Odds are, school will be a struggle and his self-assuredness will suffer.

However, Town beat the odds in first grade. He bet seventeen against the dealer, certain of his cards, and he won. He may not have had the highest iStation score, the best marks in math, or even the rosiest behavior chart, but our boy won. He won because, in addition to teaching core content, his teachers allowed him to revel in the miraculous wonderment of childhood imagination. They permitted him to consider his worth on a grander scale and to award himself fittingly.

As parents, we worry about our children. We worry when they aren’t making good grades. We worry when they’re too focused on straight A's. We worry if they don’t have a lot of friends. We worry when we think they might have too many social obligations. We worry that they’re too laid back. We worry that they’re too serious. We worry that their egos will be crushed if they don’t win a prize every time they take a relative risk. Me? I worry too. But, not so much at the moment...

Today, Town Hancock is proud to be Town Hancock. Man, do I ever look up to this boy! He has a lot to teach me about whimsy, resiliency, and confidence.

Daily Schedule at Casa de Hancock in the Days of COVID-19

The following is a piece I wrote a few weeks into March of 2020 with distance learning in full effect for our elementary-age children.  Written as a tongue-in-cheek response to a lot of social media posts featuring homeschool schedules and pictures of happy children diligently completing their schoolwork, it endeavors to present a more accurate portrayal of the daily work-and-learn-from-home schedule for families enjoying the same relative privilege as mine...  seeking authenticity and humility in my portrayal.

Daily Schedule at Casa de Hancock

6:30am - Daddy wakes up, complaining his neck hurts, and goes to "work" in the home office. Mommy wakes up and starts caffeinating, checking email, and catching up on the news.

7 - Children wake up and watch 'Bunk'd.'

7:30 - Child A is tired of 'Bunk'd' and wrestles Child B for the remote. Things escalate quickly.

7:31 - Mommy breaks up fight and sits down to watch what those crazy kids at Camp Kikiwaka are up to today, loses interest, immerses herself in social media from her phone.

8am - Mommy prepares breakfast (sausage biscuits and fruit) for little people. Children eat the fruit and half of a biscuit, feed the sausage to the dog.

8:15 - Children complain they are "starving." Mommy slaves over a second breakfast (cereal and milk) for little people. Children eat two spoonfuls and pronounce themselves "stuffed."

9 - Schoolwork with Child A (all four lessons complete in record time)

10 - Schoolwork with Child B - Attempt #1

10:25-10:35 - Time out #1 for Child B

10:35 - Schoolwork with Child B Attempt #2

10:40 - Bribes offered to Child B. Child B declines bribes, pulls back of shirt over his head, goes mute.

10:45 - Child B breaks pencil and throws it on the ground.

10:47 - Child B loses Nintendo Switch for 24 hours.

10:48 - Schoolwork with Child B Attempt #2 aborted

11 - Snacktime for children. Mommy practices deep breathing.

11:30am-12:30pm - Children play outside while Daddy supervises and Mommy goes on a run.

12:30 - Daddy serves lunch to the little people (ham and cheese Lunchables). Children eat the cookies first, then the cheese, leave the rest for the dog.

1 - Schoolwork with Child B Attempt #3

1:10 - Child B rips up worksheet.

1:10-1:20 - Timeout #2 for Child B

1:20-2:20 - Schoolwork for Child B - Attempt #4 and... Success!!! (Well, 3/4 lessons complete... Good enough!)

2:30-3:30 - Children take lovely walk with Mommy, even holding her hands. Mommy tries to commit every moment of the walk to memory. She's SO happy.

4-5 - Mommy and children color. Mommy draws 2 animals. Child B draws 3 poop emoji monsters.

5-6 - Daddy makes dinner. Family eats together. Three people fart audibly at the table.

6-6:15 - Children "pick up" the common areas.

6:15-6:30- Daddy explains that pushing trash under the couch is not picking up. Children throw apple cores and yogurt containers previously hidden under the couch in the trash.

6:30-7 - Children "bathe" by running the shower and wetting their heads, return downstairs in pajamas.

7-7:05 - Mommy smells children's hair and sends them back to bathe for real... with soap!

7:30-8 - Family snuggles and watches a show.

8 - Children go to bed.

8:01 - Mommy pours herself a HUGE glass of Chardonnay.

8:07 - Mommy falls asleep.

8pm-1am - Daddy watches zombie shows, falls asleep sitting up on the couch chin to chest. 

An Open Letter to My Son's Kindergarten Teacher

I wrote the following poem on the eve of my oldest son's first day of kindergarten in 2016.  Teachers, families send us their whole world when they send their children to school.  And, the whole world needs us to tender them well.

Dear Teacher,

Today, I present you with my Town.

This boy,

This child,

Is the whole world to me.

I’m his mother.

The very best of me has gone into him.

You did not see him take his first steps.

You missed his first words.

The way his eyes lit up the first time he tried a banana

You never heard the peals of giggles my baby released when something tickled his fancy.

The way he stuck out his elbows and wiggled his bottom to the chicken dance

The day he ran his first race

His first trip to the movies

His first and second soccer goal

Dancing in the rain

Flying a kite

And the thousands of other seemingly insignificant little things that mothers revel in when their babies are small

I was there for all of that.

Those memories are mine, locked tight in my heart, steeling me for days like this.

A day that marks firsts that I will not witness

In these miraculous moments, you will be by his side.

The first time he recognizes the letters of the alphabet

The first time he reads

The first time he answers a question correctly

Totals up sums

Makes an elementary school friend

Deals with adversity

Moving through a system in which he will be measured, grouped, and counted

Today, I give him to you… though only for a few hours each day.

Be gentle with this little soul.

His whimsy, his imagination, his humor

All are fragile.

You have the power to magnify these gifts.

He is more than a size, a label, or a number.

You understand every child holds a universe of potential.

Let your light beckon him,

Like the star of Bethlehem lit the Magi’s path

Toward the salvation of epiphany

Thank you for being the first of many to help him become the man he is meant to be.

Sincerely,

Mom (formerly known as "Mommy")

Needless to say, his teachers took excellent care of our Town!  I strive every day to care for my preservice teachers in the way that my son's teachers tendered him.

From Ripples to Waves

Teachers are makers of nations.  Our job is to walk the talk. This includes doing everything we can to communicate to our beloved students that they matter, that their perspectives matter, and that small kindnesses (like skipping stones) matter. The art of teaching is in nuance, in the ripple effect of the daily positive meaningful interactions educators have with our "kids"... a progression of concentric circles carrying positive influence to places further than one’s immediate reach... perhaps disrupting the status quo’s placidity and complacency just long enough to make waves on previously untouched shores... communicating that we are all of value. Our children are watching, so do not just talk about it. Show them in word and in deed that all (not just those that look like us, talk like us, live like us, love like us, and worship like us) deserve a voice, respect, and equity.