Treat your school like a Temple of Heaven
By Chelsea Collins, 2016 New Jersey Teacher of the Year

About three weeks before my daughter turned two, I learned the meaning of “the terrible twos”. I would find myself in church, the supermarket, or the mall, and there she was — my sweet, angelic baby, throwing herself on the floor in a fit of rage. Trying to keep my composure, I would plead, “What do you want, sweetie? Tell Mommy why you are so upset.” This would only make the tantrum worse. The clenched fists, enraged screams, and fierce thrashing continued. I felt helpless, unsure what was bringing all this on.
Then I traveled to China this month, and I realized what it was like to be unable to communicate my own thoughts, feelings, needs, and wants. I realized what it was like to feel completely cut off from communication.
In 2016, I had the honor of receiving New Jersey’s California Casualty Award for Teaching Excellence. As a result, I embarked on a year-long professional learning experience with nearly 40 educators from across the country. The Global Learning Fellowship is sponsored by the National Education Association Foundation and is intended to build global competencies in educators. The culminating experience was a 9-day fellowship to China to study Chinese culture and traditions, and to discuss how we can bring global perspectives back to our students and colleagues in the United States.
Having lived and traveled extensively in countries outside of the United States, I felt quite comfortable with the idea of traveling to a foreign place. But what I didn’t expect was how difficult it would be to navigate a country where so few people know any English at all; from cab drivers, to hotel staff, to restaurant personnel, most of what we wanted or needed often required extensive maneuvering to obtain. While I didn’t throw a screaming tantrum in the middle of a supermarket, I started to realize why the question, “What do you want, sweetie?” was so aggravating; I knew what I wanted, but I couldn’t communicate it to those around me.
On the sixth day of the fellowship, our group entered The Temple of Heaven. The Temple of Heaven is a place of ancient worship and sacrifice. But what caught my attention was an area where locals were congregated to exercise their minds, bodies, and spirits.
The space reminded me of an outdoor senior citizen center. In one corner was a group of ladies sewing. In the next, a group of gentlemen were playing cards. And as our group further integrated into this mass of people, I saw something truly profound. I saw love, kindness, and humility transform any language barriers that had positioned themselves between us.
Three of the gentlemen in my group walked up to a pair of locals who were playing jianzi, a game that looks a lot like hacky-sack. My friends motioned to their feet and pointed at the kinja in the hand of the local gentlemen; it was a moment of extreme vulnerability. Suddenly, a knowing smile spread across the face of the local man, and after a quick look to his friend, he gave the newcomers a firm and tight-lipped nod.
Together, the five gentlemen slowly spread out into a circle to begin playing. The kinja was volleyed three or four times until it mistakenly skidded past the foot of my friend. Laughter abruptly filled the air, and in that moment, it was unclear which laughs were those of the locals, and which were those of the foreigners. It was a beautifully blended harmony of joy.
Then I noticed a woman from our group standing amidst a gathering of local women. One of the local women was in the center of the semi-circle; she held a Bible that contained Chinese characters, her eyes were tightly closed, and she swayed back and forth as she felt the group’s rendition of the Chinese hymn. As I made my way closer, I realized that the woman from my group was singing along too. She had recognized the hymn (she later explained that she is a director in her church choir) and was singing the same hymn, only in English. I stood for a moment and took in the sounds of their beautifully, intermingled voices. Their words did not match, but their rhythms and hearts were clearly in the same place.
Further along I found members of my group gathered around an elderly local. In China, it is common to find exercise equipment situated in public spaces, and locals often use the machines throughout the day. This gentlemen was stretching his body; he was sitting on the machine with his legs straight out in front of him, he was bending his torso forward so that his chest was resting on his knees, and he was inching himself in a horizontal direction through several metal openings. At the sight of this marvel, our group exploded in applause.
A woman in our group approached the man and tried to ask him how old he was. The man paused, understanding the question, but not knowing how to articulate his response. He slowly picked up the woman’s hand, gazing into her eyes for reassurance. When he felt comfortable continuing, with his finger in her palm, he wrote out the numbers “76”. “Seventy-six!” she exclaimed, and the group erupted in applause once again.
As I walked away from that space in the Temple of Heaven, I knew that I had just experienced something magnificent. Despite the vast differences in our language, culture, and traditions, I saw love and humanity, both of which were able to transcend any differences in our language.
This week, when my two-year-old grew frustrated with her inability to communicate her thoughts, I gently kneeled down, looked into her eyes, and offered my open arms. Eyes brimming with tears, she threw herself forward and melted into my embrace. We squeezed each other tightly, and although we never exchanged any words, our hearts and minds were completely in-sync.
Back in the U.S., summer is coming to a close and it is likely we will be returning to our colleagues and students with little hesitation about communication and language; we will primarily use English. It may seem that we will not have to work as hard as our group did that day in the Temple of Heaven in order to communicate with each other. Yet, if we are going to know and understand the thoughts and words of each other, it will take just as much patience and understanding. Only this time, the language barriers are even more challenging: they are disguised behind familiar words and language. We will not be forced to see the humanity in one another in order to communicate, we must make a conscious and calculated effort to do it.
It is all too easy to dismiss the thoughts and opinions of others and even more difficult to truly hear them. This year, let’s ensure our “familiar” words don’t get in the way of our universal language, the love and the laughter, that bring us all together. Let’s strive to speak softer, to listen harder, and to find the humility in one another.

Chelsea Collins is the 2016 New Jersey State Teacher of the year, 2015–16 Salem County Teacher of the Year, and an NEA Global Education Fellow. She achieved this honor in her role as a sixth grade English Language Arts at Woodstown Middle School in the Woodstown-Pilesgrove Regional School District. Chelsea currently resides with her husband and daughter on their 86-acre longhorn farm in Southern New Jersey. Follow her on Twitter here.
Wanna write an out of the box, #teachlikearebel piece for Curio Learning? Email your pitches and submissions to ashley@curiolearning.com.
Oh, and don’t forget to go to www.curiolearning.com to sign up to pilot our awesome app for teachers to discover, curate, and collaborate on creative ideas and strategies for the classroom.

