Printer-friendly versionI was in a wreck.
The rain was curling my hair and sirens blasted in the background as I said these words to Judy, our secretary. I quickly added that the other driver and I were both fine, but our cars were not. Suddenly, it occurred to me that in the tangled wreckage was everything someone would need to teach my class for the day. However, Judy’s calming voice assured me they would figure something out.
I was in a daze from the shock of being hit and bewildered by the scene of broken glass and punctured car parts. For the first time in my teaching career, I left my classroom plans entirely up to someone else.
Two days later I returned to my classroom, exhausted from dealing with insurance claims and accident reports. Taped to my computer monitor and document camera were notes that read “Welcome back Mrs. Yahn!” and “We missed you!” On my desk was another pile of cards made with copier paper and Crayola markers.
As I sifted through the cards, I laughed until tears rolled down my cheeks and laughter spilled from my mouth. The classroom community I worked hard to create, had bonded in my absence. The notes from my students included inspirational sayings like “If we had a rose for every time we saw your smiling face, we would have a beautiful rose garden.”
That was more proof that every day I entered the classroom with a smile, spent a few more minutes to explain a concept or really listened to a student’s account of events the night before, I was building a community of engaged students. That engagement is apparent, even when I’m not in the room.
As educators we plan for the crisis situation. Typically we assume we will be the ones who lead the students to safety or teach them to handle their fears. At our staff meetings we practice emergency procedures. Throughout the school year we walk our students through the steps. However, we forget to consider we might be the person in crisis. And in those moments, we might need to lean on the students.
Throughout my first day back I talked openly to my students about the wreck, and admitted I was still overcoming some of the anxiety I had experienced. I emphasized my gratitude for their empathy. Finally, I commended them on their strength and courage to help me navigate my unexpected chaos.
I often repeat this quote to my students “True character is what you do when you don’t think anyone else is watching.” During my absence no one directed them to write cards or welcome me back, nor did anyone specifically check to make sure they were on their best behavior. Yet students put their own crisis management plan into action. They showed concern when no one else was watching, revealing just how much “character” they truly have.
Yahn is a middle school language arts teacher in Ohio.
