Teaching that Character Counts
Can values and character traits be taught through school curriculum? They may be intellectually introduced, but the real internalizing can only come from experiencing situations where “teachable moments” open up. An example:
It was the last day of school, a day when teachers hope to feel the peace of mind knowing that all their hard work has paid off. I was passing out certificates to individual students congratulating them for concluding their fourth-grade year. We do what is called a silent cheer, hands waving in the air, so students cheer equally for all.
As I was announcing names, the silent cheers turned into “Yahoos!” and “Yeah!” I reminded the students about silent cheers. The “Yahoos!” continued. Then I called “Tammy.” There was absolute silence in the room, not even a silent cheer.
My heart fell to the ground, and I only imagined where Tammy’s heart was. I stopped and looked at my class. Speechless, tears began to well-up in my eyes.
Normally I cry on the last day of school just from the emotion of letting my students go. This was different.
All year long we read books on different character traits such as honesty, respect, courage, and responsibility. We had special programs specifically targeted on conflict resolution. Recesses and lunch breaks were spent discussing how to work out issues students had with one another, allowing them to talk out their differences.
One phrase continually would arise, and became our mantra throughout the year: Treat others the way you want to be treated.
Tammy had been teased by the students much of the year. She was a bright student, but didn’t always know how to interact with students her own age. Her presence was a challenge as well as a gift.
A classroom is a microcosm of the larger world we live in. Students learn to work with people who are similar as well as different from them; sometimes it’s easy, other times, it can be difficult.
I had thought we made progress over the year in dealing with differences, but the results were right in front of me: Tammy’s head rested on her desk, hidden from view.
When finally I returned back from my emotional spin, the class was staring at me, silent. The words spilled out of my mouth as well as the tears from my eyes.
Now granted, teachers are great actors, especially to exaggerate points and to get messages across, but this was no acting. This was straight from my heart, deep in my soul, to theirs.
“I am so disappointed and sad about the choices that were just made,” I began. “We have spent a whole year together, sharing how to be with one another, and on the last day this is what we display?”
Not one student moved or let out a sound. I continued, “If all you learned this year was to treat people kindly, that would make my day. All the math, English, social studies or science mean absolutely nothing if you can’t be nice to another person. Tammy feels terrible, and frankly I do as well. Would you want to be Tammy right now?”
At this point I did not know what to do next. I walked back to the sink to wash my hands. Then I walked over to Tammy’s seat and gave her a hug. The class was still silent.
Out of the crowd a faint but distinct voice could be heard. The voice of courage uttered, “I’m sorry, Tammy.” Another voice followed echoing those same words, then another, until the entire class joined in like a chorus.
This was beyond a “teachable moment.” It was a soulful, spiritually guided learning experience, purposefully placed to one last time ingrain the mantra, “Treat others the way you want to be treated.”
I don’t believe in accidents. And I do believe that these 30 students internally understood their actions, and the pain a human can inflict on another solely on an emotional level. It was not scripted, yet guided so perfectly. The ending was a true experience of how to be with another person, one a book could not have possibly taught.
