Canvases.

http://www.dreamwallsglass.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/blank-canvas.jpg

I love kids. I love their innocence, love for life, curiosity and the sense of trust they place in adults so easily, not yet jaded by the inevitable disappointments they will face in years to come.  They are fresh and blank canvases, ready to be painted with the experiences in life.  While going through school, each will be altered, filled with art and images, marks left by those surrounding this pure canvas, including teachers who spend 170+ days with each canvas.

This last year, I had a fourth grader, "Isaiah," whose canvas has already been painted by teachers over the past 5 years.  I didn't know much about Isaiah when I first met him.  What I saw was a beautiful face with shining deep brown eyes and the most beautiful (yet rarely seen) smile.

As I got to know Isaiah more, I learned that he hated math and believed he was incapable of simple operations in math. He would often shut down during math instruction, tightening his jaw, turning red and breathing rapidly. There were times I saw tears even when I was introducing the content for the day's lesson.

When I realized that this beautiful boy needed some TLC, I often pulled him before a math lesson and then again during work time to really support this super-capable guy.  Often he would soften a bit, but I never felt as though I truly helped him feel as though he was super smart.

I found that not only did Isaiah struggle to independently cope with struggling in math, but these same behaviors would transfer out on the playground during recess. When conflict would arise, which inevitably, it always does with kids...usually around a rogue basketball or a tag game gone awry...Isaiah would explode, turning beet red, tears streaming down his face and screaming at me, explaining how he had been wronged.  My response was always to ask him to go use the restroom/get a drink and would chat later (something I snagged from Teaching with Love and Logic).  He always amazed me with his ability to come back clear headed, thoughtfully explaining why he was so upset.

Arguably the most important book in building and repairing relationships with kids.

This really has always just been my MO with kids.  Talk calmly and help them sort through things.  Some kids are easier than others.  Patience is so key and having a 2 and 4 year old at home gives me a TON of practice on deep breathing.

It wasn't until the VERY last day of school when we were walking together to the End of the Year Picnic that Isaiah leaned in close to me and said, "Mrs. Luhrsen, it's so crazy that you never sent me to the principal's office."

Stunned.

Silence.

"Um, what do you mean?  Why would I have sent you?," I responded dumb-founded.

"I don't know.  But every other year, I always got sent there all the time."

"But...why?"

"I don't remember.  I just think it's weird that you never sent me."  And off he went, running to catch up with his friends.

My sweet Isaiah. A moment after he dropped a bombshell on me.

It took me some time to really process this...and I mean ALL summer.  I've been thinking so much about this 10 seconds that we shared.  I never found that Isaiah had done anything even close to needing to go to the principal's office.  Even crazier is that Isaiah couldn't even explain reasons why he had been sent.  Maybe not such an effective intervention after all.

In thinking about this 10 year old canvas, I was thinking about how messy it was.  How it had been tarnished over the years, paint splattered carelessly about as he made his frequent trips to the front of the school.  I'm not implying that Isaiah's previous teachers were these terrible monsters, but I realize just how much of an impact teachers can make as they create art on the canvases that walk through our doors every year.

I hope that in my small section of Isaiah's life canvas, I have left a small ray of sunshine.  Maybe a rainbow.  Maybe a symbol of strength or resilience.

Isaiah was...and is...an amazing guy with so much to offer. My hope for him is that the teachers he meets to bridge him into adulthood will find him as beautiful and talented as I have.  My hope is that they paint over the less desirable art that has been created on his canvas.  This is my hope for Isaiah. This is my hope for all kids.

We all deserve beautiful art around us.