Notes From Public School - Day 91

Here’s a note I wrote for the Charleston Post and Courier.

I love writing for newspapers (I’m old school like that), and the Post and Courier is my favorite newspaper of all. 

https://www.postandcourier.com/subscribe/?tpcc=bluenav_website

They have terrific investigative journalists.

Have you read the work of Jennifer Berry Hawes?

She’s the best.

Please read her book Grace Will Lead Us Home: The Charleston Church Massacre and the Hard, Inspiring Journey to Forgiveness.

It opened the eyes and ears of my heart to help me look more closely and listen more carefully to life.

It put my hands and feet in motion on the path toward work for understanding and reconciliation.

Here’s my small story for the P and C:

As a public school teacher, I work hard to “listen” to the faces of my students. 

Recently I was talking with Geraldine about a wonderful book she is reading, Ophelia and the Marvelous Boy by Karen Foxlee. 

“Oh, Mr. Barton,” she said with a giggle, “I’m just like Ophelia in the story because she’s a curious kind of kid and I’m a curious kind of kid because I want to know everything about everything.”

But then, in the middle of her giggled, she became serious, as nine-year-olds often do.

“She’s a nervous kind of kid, too, because she’s had a hard life and I’ve kind of had a hard life, too.”

I looked into her earthy brown eyes and thought about the ground from which she came, for she came here from the farms and fields of Guatemala with her family. 

For the first time all year I noticed the faintest of dark circles around her eyes, the slightest of a downward turn at the corners of her mouth, and a hint of tiredness and sadness that should not often be on a 9-year-olds face.

“Geraldine,” I asked, “What’s your life like?” 

She told me her story. 

“I share one room with my Mom, my aunt, my sister, and my two younger cousins,” she began, “And my family works very, very hard.”

As she talked with me about the book and about her life, a tiny tear appeared in the corner of her eye. 

Did it appear from her giggles or from her sadness?

I caught the tear in my hand as it rolled off her cheek.

“Geraldine,” I asked, “Do you see how I caught your teardrop?

Well, as your teacher I’m here to catch your happiness and your sadness.

I’m here to help you learn everything about everything.

I’m here to help you be anything you want to be. 

I’m here.”

That’s what teachers are.

We’re here.