Will you come eat with us?
I was having a day where I wanted just a few moments to not talk to anyone. I wanted to grab my lunch, eat it quickly in a corner and head back to my laboratory to set up stations for my young scientists. This is one hundred percent not like me — I am the one usually being obnoxious, saying hello loudly and dramatically to everyone.
Every. One.
I’m serious, I oftentimes actually sing my greetings, conversations, even the directions to learners operatically — think Zoey Deschanel’s character, Jess, in New Girl. I’m the “cheerer upper” of others, not the other way around.
I walked through the cafeteria searching for an empty table or corner to duck in to, tears welling in my eyes…
That’s when a group of four-5th grade girls said,
“Mrs. Schnekser!!! Will you come eat with us? Do you want to sit with US?”
How could I say no? Indeed, I could not even though I was still stuck in this rut of just wanting to be alone. In true preteen fashion, these girls quickly began talking a mile a minute and I wasn’t sure that I made the right choice in accepting their invitation. My eyes still had tears welled up and the girls definitely noticed and their mile a minute chatter became a firing squad of well-intentioned questions for me — checking in and showing true concern for me. It was incredible, but also still overwhelming. I shared with them that I just wasn’t having the best day and wanted to be alone and quiet, but their invitation to sit with them made me happy. As I was saying that I instantly felt bad about my confession and wished that I hadn’t shared it. To my surprise, however, these girls understood, then they offered these comments:
“I understand, I have days like that too.”
“Me too!”
“But we want you to sit here and you can just be quiet, we just don’t want you to be alone.”
Their collective empathy struck me as sophisticated beyond the age of ten years old; it sunk deep into my core. It made me grateful for their attention to detail and connection to me, their astute observation and reactions, it made me remember that our learners are also human.
As educators, there are many attacks on our craft, with many outside experts that are all too willing to provide us insight; the value of those collective contributions is up for debate. In the busyness of it all, we often lose sight of important details of what we do each day. We often want others, usually these experts (critics) to remember that we, educators, are in fact human; and in this, we often forget that our learners are also humans. They have feelings, reactions, experiences, and perspectives.
In this moment with these young learners, I remembered their humanity. I saw it, experienced it, and immediately thought about every class I taught so far that day — filled with young humans. Some are eager to learn, some are hungry to engage, and some are not ready to learn, not interested, some are hungry, some are angry, some do not like my voice…you name it — they feel it and many choose to act on those feelings which manifest in behaviors that can be undesired in learning spaces, but it is communication. All behavior communicates something, and a professor I had in college, Dr. Banton used to say, “All behavior is caused.”
These young girls noticed my behavior, and my interactions and they chose to engage with it, engage with me. This interaction was brought about by their own life experiences, their past interactions with me, their own feelings that day, and many more factors, I am certain.
This had me really thinking about the humanity of education, the inherent messiness, the depth, the complexity, and the challenges. It’s intense.
One thing we have to remember about it all is that we are all human, and very importantly — our learners are humans with the same ability to show complex emotions, reactions, and behavioral manifestations. If we expect others to accept that we, as educators, are humans, we must also remember and accept that our learners are also humans.
All behavior is caused and it is communicating something. Are we taking the time to understand, interpret, and allow the humans in our classrooms to be….human?
