Let them be Children

The students I teach see things and know things that I never thought about at their age. I didn’t have access to 24/7 news, social media, and the other things that incessantly assault our students, our children. Because of this information overload, some middle school students tend to behave and speak as though they are adults. They, like many adults, are glued to their devices to get constant information. And isn’t that sad? Being an adult too early is an incredible waste of childhood.

I was introducing a short cross-curricular unit of immigration stories to my middle school students. My history-teaching counterparts showed our shared students the reasons people left their old countries, and the facts surrounding the topic. My intent was to front-load my classes with a few true stories of immigration during the late 1800’s and very early 1900’s. Then, we would move on to our own families’ immigration stories. And, finally, we would write. (More on that at another time.)

Since the stories I wished to share with my students were told in picture book style, I would be reading to my classes. These classes are filled with the 13- and 14-year-old children described above. I held the first of these picture books in my hand, looked out at my students, and made a decision. I pulled a small stool to the front of the classroom, sat on it, and invited my students to story-time. They reacted happily. They gathered round, and we did just that. The only thing missing from a typical kindergarten classroom was the carpet squares. And the children were a bit bigger.

I reminded my students of typical rules for story-times in their past. “No fighting. No biting. No touching anyone else.” They laughed as they crossed their legs, found comfortable spots, and sat on the floor around me.

Not one of them had an iPad with them. Not one of them was looking at their phone. They listened to the words of Eve Bunting, Elvira Woodruff, and Edith Tarbescu. They remarked on the beautiful artwork of Lydia Dobkovich, Michael Dooling, and Ben F. Stahl. They asked questions. They made comments. They asked to see pages again. Their faces looked up at the book, at me, and occasionally, at each other. They were truly children at story-time. At least for a few minutes. At least for one class that day.

At one point in our story-time, a hall-monitor came to my door. He saw what was happening, and he listened for a minute. Then, he decided not to interrupt with his message delivery. He allowed us to finish. He silently left the room. I silently thanked him.

When the time came to read another story, a day or two later, my students came to the front of the room, unprompted. I pulled up my stool, opened the book, and began reading. The magic and wonder were there again. My students and I experienced something special.

Now, you probably know that I read aloud to my classes all the time. I have written about it in other posts. My students and I share stories regularly. But this was different. There was closeness during these story-times. There was child-like wonder. It was pure and sweet and powerful.

Perhaps there is a place for story-time in all classes. In all of our lives. No matter how old we are, it is good to be children.

These are the books that I used for this immigration unit.

• Dreaming of America Eve Bunting

• The Memory Coat Elvira Woodruff

• Annushka’s Voyage Edith Tarbescu