I have been thinking a lot about the way we show others that we trust them. About how we code switch between our different environments, how we let down our guard when we feel the safest because that is the only place we can truly just be without having to worry about the potential judgment we face within our uncensored self. How sometimes, when kids trust us the most it is when they show us the hardest sides of them. When they let us see their anger, their tears, their silence.
And I get it. We all carry our guards up, hoping that others will allow us to lower them enough and not reject us when we are the most vulnerable. I think of my journey on here, and how there have been times where I couldn’t believe I shared the thoughts and yet, somehow, somewhere they resonated with someone else.
I think of how long relationships take to truly form, even when we see the same kids every day. How some, right away, click with us and we move into comfort quickly, while others look from afar, not quite sure how to take us, to use us, to fit in with us.
I think of the ways students show us they trust us. How they let us into their identity and how they view themselves little by little. How they start to give us slivers of themselves in order to see how we will handle those parts, evaluating whether we will be able to handle all of them, if we will take care of them, or just use it as ammunition when they push us to our limits. When I tell my 7th grade students that I feel I have to earn their trust every year, I mean it. I don’t take it for granted, nor is it assumed. Yet trust is not always shown quietly.
I think of the kids who slam our doors. Who refuse every single trick we have. Who reject us purely out of determination. Who won’t even tell us how to make it better. How they are easy to see as troublemakers. How they are easy to discuss only in labels and incidents, rather than the child they really are. How despite their seemingly hurtful acts, how despite their sometimes loud emotions, they still need us there as a safe person, our rooms as a safe place to scream, to vent, to slam, to break.
Sometimes my students’ love language is yelled through clenched teeth. Sometimes their declaration of loyalty to us is written through swear words and exclamation points. Sometimes it takes us a moment to remember just what those emotions mask – kids who want ot be seen, to be heard, to feel safe. So the least I can do is recognize them for the full human being they are, even when the language they speak is at odds with what we would like to hear.
So every day, we say, “Welcome.” Every day, we say, “We’re glad you’re here.” Every day we remember that all kids deserve adults who remember that today is a new day, a new chance to continue to build something that wasn’t there before. That every day, no matter how it ends, marks the beginning of a chance to help every child feel safe, feel trust, feel home. And that every kids deserves that every day.
If you are wondering where I will be in the coming year or would like to have me speak, please see this page. If you like what you read here, consider reading my book, Passionate Readers – The Art of Reaching and Engaging Every Child. This book focuses on the five keys we can implement into any reading community to strengthen student reading experiences, even within the 45 minute English block. If you are looking for solutions and ideas for how to re-engage all of your students consider reading my very first book Passionate Learners – How to Engage and Empower Your Students.