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 The
world is a very tiny place indeed, dear Reader, and lovely,
sentimental people are attracted to one another with a force that
would astonish even Superman. And, when good families flock together
the power is stronger than kryptonite.
You want to be a perfect parent? It's so simple. Just
copy the people around you who are doing the best jobs.
There is a family in my room this year with a son whom
I think should run for President in the next primary. His quiet
leadership is amazingly obvious to even the most casual, untrained
observer. His behavior and enthusiastic 'attitude of gratitude' sets
the standard for our entire class.
The first day of school I started to call his mother
Harriet (remember now, I'm 55 years old and a product of the Ozzie and
Harriet generation). Why? Because she was, as they say, "a
virtuous woman and her price is far above rubies." She always
whispers any words of correction -- notice that I purposely did not
say criticism -- in her son's ear and speaks loudly when she
"catches him doing something wonderful".
Once recently during yoga, a little boy sitting beside
our 'honor child' leaned forward and put his head down on his crossed
knees, a five-year-old's body language that even in yoga candlelight
says, "Oh, gosh! My tummy hurts." And Ozzie and Harriet's
son, without thinking, uncircled the fingers of his left hand and
began to softly, but firmly rub his friend's back without skipping a
beat of the yoga mantra -- breath in, hold; breath out, ring bell and
smile.
A child rarely learns that gentle loving gesture from
a housekeeper (although you are sometimes very blessed with a perfect
helping staff for my Children of Paradise). And, you never learn it
from the back of a Pokemon card or from observing The Simpsons.
Recently our class of tomorrow's leaders and
discoverers enjoyed a discovery experience during Child-of-the-Week
activities. Do you think that 20 prancing ponies, 3 clowns and a
catering service filled our classroom? No. In walked two quietly
dignified grandparents from Canada (originally from Russia) and they
sang in Russian, with only our awestruck staring eyes for
accompaniment, a host of songs and closed with the Canadian National
Anthem.
Well, call it an estrogen surge, my eyes filled with
tears and my children thanked them with Indian prayers and a standing
ovation. Then -- and I give you my holy Episcopalian word of honor
that this true -- Grandmother passed out home grown raspberry tarts
with homemade crust! And, grandson leader-of-tomorrow had made them
with her.
Now, I out and out sobbed because granddad stood and
displayed wood products from his paper business in Canada and proudly
gave everyone a pin that is an emblem of their business -- a flying
Canadian goose with the sun setting behind his wingspread.
If you are a reader of my column you will remember my article about
laying with my 31 tiny five-year-olds in the short grass on the German
mountainside when I was a young girl of 23 and watching the most
awesomely beautiful geese that this transplanted Floridian had ever
seen flying over our heads. They honked words of encouragement to us
and we waved, called them by name and shouted words of love back to
them.
We studied the geese back in our classroom, always
sticking together; mating for life no matter how shiny some new
goose's feathers were and positively encouraging one another with
their lovely, lovely honking.
And now 24 kindergarten classes later, Harriet's dad
is pinning a lead goose on my lapel. Is it just my aging hormones dear
Reader, or is this world a very tiny place indeed?
Celebrate yourself, I tell my kindergartners. The
world is small and your good news will travel fast.
Sue Nichols, born and raised in Miami-Dade County, is
a teacher at St. Thomas Episcopal Parish School and has 24 years
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