I Have My Own Crayon!!

Selma Wassermann

We learned many lessons in the years that we lived dangerously, as a determined and lethal virus wreaked havoc in our lives. We learned how vulnerable we are to infection, despite our 21st century knowledge of science, and we learned how best to prevent the spread of germs. We learned that our doctors and nurses, worn to the bone from overwork, nevertheless went the extra mile and more to treat those who were falling ill in such large numbers. We learned that we needed to rely on our own resources to ensure that our children, kept out of school by quarantine, would not have fallen far behind their grade levels when they returned to in-person class.

During these stressful times, when it was hard enough to remain calm, to keep a positive spirit, and to follow guidelines that kept us safe from infection, we also suffered from watching a nation’s divided loyalties, an assault on the halls of democracy, and the insanities of disinformation spread by late night news and the Internet. Keeping a positive spirit in the presence of all the negativism seemed impossible.

Slowly, the more acute danger ebbed and children began returning to in-person schooling. In some areas, they had to come wearing face masks and the teachers wore them as well. In other areas, masks were abandoned, not necessarily because they were not warranted, but because some of the powers behind local governments deemed them a denial of personal prerogatives. Thus, even when children returned to schools, the unrest and the uneasiness that had prevailed lingered, like a bad smell.

Teachers everywhere stood heroic, and faced whatever challenges arose. Not the least of their worries was the possibility of infection, since they were open and vulnerable to whatever the children were carrying to school. Yet, as teachers always do, they staunchly persevered.

In our concerns about everything else, how many gave a thought to the bravery and heroism of teachers, doing their lifelong job educating our kids? How many remembered to thank the teachers for all they do? For remaining on the front lines. For standing up for the needs and the benefits of children.

Ruben had just turned 5 years old and his school, located in the heart of the Slocan Valley, was holding an early June orientation for children who would be attending kindergarten in September. Sometimes, we forget what a magic moment this is in the life of a 5-year-old. In a flurry of excitement, Ruben’s mom loaded him into the car, fastened his seat belt, and drove him to Brent Kennedy Elementary School for his kindergarten orientation.

Do you remember that first day entering a school room? Do you remember the excitement, the unparalleled joy, the expectations of a 5-year-old in those first moments in a classroom? Do you remember the smell of the chalk, the cafeteria serving up lunch, the smiles of the teachers welcoming us? For Ruben, it was a place of enchantment, something that might have come from one of his fairy tale books. He was mesmerized.

Sitting in one of those impossibly little kindergarten chairs, Ruben listened to what the teacher had to say and absorbed every word about what next September had in store for him as if she were giving gifts of wisdom. This normally highly active little fellow held still as if he had been trained to sit and listen. At the end of the teacher’s presentation, each little 5-year-old was given his own box of crayons. Although Ruben was never without his own collection of multi-colored crayons and felt pens at home, he treated this gift, from his future teacher, as if it were precious. He clutched his box of crayons to his breast as he left the classroom with his mom and walked to the parking lot.

During the drive home, Ruben’s excitement was so strong, it seemed his seat belt could barely contain him. He had a lot to tell his mom about the kindergarten orientation and his new teacher. He would be going to school in September. He would be learning to read by himself. BY HIMSELF!

In our busy and eventful lives, often full of problems that have yet to be resolved, we forget the enchantment of those first in-school experiences for our 5-year-olds. We forget the magic that school holds for them. We forget what a pivotal role teachers play in the lives of our children. We forget how school opens doors to the mind, to their lives, to their futures. We forget that teachers are the keys that open those doors.

When the car arrived back home, Ruben clicked open his seat belt and raced out to see his grandmother, who was waiting for his news.

“Nana,” he shouted, “I’ve got my own crayon.”

Let us never forget the gifts that teachers give.

And yes, if you can read this, thank a teacher.