Read the foreword to Starting Small, a training tool for early grades educators available from Teaching Tolerance.
The teachers of young children who speak to us so earnestly in the stories in Starting Small work in different communities but share a common vision: that children can learn to care about every other person's feelings, beliefs and welfare.
The notion may seem commonplace, something surely found in most classrooms. Yet, given the number of sad faces, hurt feelings and lonely outsiders in our schools, the empathy factor may be more talked about than systematically pursued.
In the hearts and minds of the teachers described in this training, it is a full-time commitment that begins anew with each child and family.
The dictionary defines empathy as "understanding so intimate that the feelings, thoughts and motives of one are readily comprehended by another." It is a word often seen on lists of goals but rarely employed as the core curriculum.
Promoting empathy would be a major undertaking for any classroom, but the teachers in this book go further. They believe that perceiving the feelings, thoughts and motives of another person is the first step in building a bridge. What must follow is the discovery, day by day, of how to move — in both directions — across that bridge.
Luckily for those who despair of society's ever being made into a kinder place, young children are far more empathetic by nature than we are prone to believe. They are enormously interested in being in the company of other children and are persistently curious about those who seem different.
By the time children enter preschool, they are experienced people-watchers, and they know what makes someone laugh or cry.
"Come quick, teacher!" Cynthia calls. "A big boy is crying!"
We follow her to a bench in the hallway where a distraught and disheveled child is wiping his eyes, embarrassed by our sudden appearance. I recognize him as a 2nd grader who often gets into trouble.
"Martin? What's wrong?" I ask, but the children rush to supply the answers.
"He's lost," says one.
"He wants his mother," says another.
"Someone was mean to him."
"They didn't pay attention. They losed him."
A flicker of a smile crosses Martin's face. He sees that these kindergartners who do not even know him recognize his sense of loss and are ready to befriend and comfort him.
The children are ready. They come to school wondering how those so different from themselves can have the same feelings and desires. And we, in turn, must learn how to help them put their intuitive knowledge of commonality into words and actions. This is what children enjoy doing and can do well; it is guaranteed to make our teaching come alive with purpose and meaning.
The teachers we meet in Starting Small also understand that even within a seemingly safe classroom, someone can feel lost and frightened at any moment. They are prepared to stop everything and get everyone to pay attention, to listen to what the other person says and become keenly aware of what to say in response.
In so doing, they give credence to our ultimate goal as teachers in a democratic society: helping children become kind and caring participants in a world that includes everyone. These wise and compassionate teachers who are "starting small" will uncover and model for us the amazingly large moral dimensions of the classroom.
