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Saving a child is a teacher's nature |
BY KRISTA RAMSEY
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Shannon Wright |
We have seen her dozens of times before. The woman in the jumper with chalk in the pocket, a pencil behind her ear. Putting up a hand to shield a child from an arcing soccer ball or a swinging cafeteria door. Or stepping out first into a busy after-school parking lot, her arm around a child.
By nature, this is what teachers do. They put themselves between children and dangers. Large and small, real and imagined.
It does not surprise us that Mrs. Wright would act instinctively, ''jumping'' in front of her sixth-grade student. For seven hours a day, teachers are our children's third parent, and care for them every bit as much as their own. Stand in a busy school office and mention the name of a student. Sure as anything, one teacher will say, ''He's one of mine.''
Our children become theirs in the smallest of ways. They know who skips out of line at every drinking fountain on the way back from every recess. They know who is sure to forget the potato for the science project. They could tell you in a minute who will fall off the monkey bars, ask the best question on the field trip, have to pee during the assembly.
And they know who needs more sleep, and whose parents fight every night. And whose puppy just died and whose mom is going to have a baby.
Little victories
In their desks they keep an amazing number of wares to soothe, charm and motivate children. Pizza coupons. Band-aids. Special occasion colored chalk. Stick-it notes. Giga Pets taken as contraband. A pair of jack-o'-lantern earrings. Hershey's kisses. And stickers. Always stickers.And, somewhere, there is sure to be a small stack of thank-you notes from parents to read at the end of those horrible days when everyone was crabby, every lesson fell flat, every parent called with a complaint, and they can't for one second remember why they went into this thankless profession.
And then the guy who teaches next door stops by, with a tired smile. Michael joined in the circle that day. Jennifer got two-digit multiplication. Shoeless feet are up on a chair. A Cup-of-Soup is in the World's Best Teacher mug. Somebody had success that day. Tomorrow it could be them.
It is enough to help them finish grading the continents homework, start the bulletin board, read over the journals, clean the aquarium, check the voice mail, stop at the store for cotton balls, carry in an armload of projects, and greet the neighbor who always reminds them they have the easiest schedule in the world.
Just one time, they would like to stop and explain about weekend workshops and evening PTA carnivals. The nightly phone calls to say Sam had a good day, or Mark needs extra work on punctuation or please, this week, take Angie to the optometrist.
Just once they would like to ask if they can't figure in the hours they lie awake wondering what will happen to the boy who is the ''new kid'' for the third time that year. Or the nervous girl who always falls short of her parents' expectations. Or the 6-year-old with leukemia.
But most often, they say nothing. They have better things to do with their time.
Arms to encircle them
This week Shannon Wright spoke for them. She gave her life doing in the extreme what teachers do all the time. She died saving a child.There is so little from which to take comfort in this terrible, senseless tragedy, but this much we know. When grieving children return to that Arkansas school next week, someone's arms will encircle them. Someone's tears will intermingle with theirs.
Someone will teach them how to read bar graphs and find latitudes, and begin trusting life again as well.
Complete coverage of the Jonesboro shootingsfrom Associated Press
Krista Ramsey's column appears on Saturdays. Write her at the Enquirer, 312 Elm St. Cincinnati 45202.