Last week Sasha was crying volubly when I walked her and her peers back to our classroom after recess. “I lost my mood ring,” she wailed. Her hands were laced together behind her neck and she pressed her forearms against her head as if holding it in a vice. “I want my mood ring!”
Her classmate Mark rolled his eyes. “Man. Why does she always make such a big deal of dumb stuff?”
We walked back to the classroom, and I contemplated the situation. I decided to read to the class “A Lost Button,” from “Frog and Toad Are Friends,” a collection of stories about two anthropomorphic amphibian companions. Toad, the characteristically irascible one, has lost a button. He becomes increasingly more irate as Frog attempts, but fails, to locate it.
“Toad’s just like Sasha,” I heard one student whisper. I continued reading. Toad howls until he gives up and runs home, where he finds the button on the floor and he feels silly for making Frog look so hard for it.
“See,” Mark said wisely. “It wasn’t even a big deal.” I nodded.
“Think,” I prompted the class. “Think of something really small that means a lot to you. What is it?”
The students thought. “My colored pencils,” said Judy. “My favorite marble,” mentioned Kevin. “My sneakers,” said Mark, begrudgingly. He could tell where this was going.
“Sometimes,” I explained, “small things can have big meaning for someone. Before you judge them, think about how it would feel to lose something important.”
In teacher parlance, unexpected events that have conversational value are known as “teachable moments.” I think this phrase is ill-fitting. Events like this one have lifelong impact. And they are not unexpected or unpredictable. Rather, they are just as much the curriculum of early childhood education as telling time and counting by twos.
This past week, the Massachusetts Office of Victim Assistance provided a $1.6 million grant to the Boston Public Schools to help teachers work with students who present emotional challenges. The money will be used to pay 10 specialists to help intervene with students who struggle with trauma.
But as a state, a city, a district, and a group of professionals, we need more. A dream of mine would be to see every classroom teacher trained in teaching social and emotional wellness. Having taught for five years, I have seen many similar scenarios play themselves out year after year, and I have developed better instincts for navigating them. But for every lost mood ring, I can be sure that there will be two more challenges for which I will not be ready.
One thing that would help me prepare is an outline of state standards for social and emotional development. The Massachusetts standards are lacking. To contribute meaningfully to a group of colleagues, Sasha needs to be able to identify and regulate her own emotional needs and Mark needs to be able to respond skillfully to a peer’s reactions to challenges. And all teachers need to know the importance of those skills.
Back in the classroom, Mark admits the error in his thinking. “If I lost my favorite sneakers, I would be miserable.” He apologizes to Sasha.
“It’s OK,” Sasha replies, lifting her head from her desk. “Hey. Wait!” She reaches into her pocket. “My mood ring!”
I don’t know what color a mood ring glows when the wearer is happy. But I could tell how Sasha was feeling just from the smile on her face.
Jeffrey Cipriani is a second-grade teacher at Orchard Gardens Pilot School in Boston and a Teach Plus Teaching Policy Fellowship alum. Talk back at letterstoeditor@bostonherald.com.
