I wore this heart pin to school today. I needed to wear it, and I knew what would happen. Children asked me about the pin.
“Jennie, I love your heart.”
“Thank you. I do, too. Do you know why I wore this? Because I love you.”
The smiles were as big as sunbeams. Love has been, well, everything this year.
This school year has been a change, as the children are younger. It took a month to adjust my expectations to their abilities. Can they scissor cut? No. Can they draw people? Barely. I was spending nearly as much time in the bathroom changing diapers as I was teaching. Once we became a family (I love when that happens) it became clear these children may not be artists or builders, but they are passionate book readers. They are singers and caretakers of of our dolls – especially Gloria. She has spent every single weekend with a child. Lunchtime always has a Jennie Story or a Fairy Tale. The favorite is my version of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” – “Goldilocks and the Three Dinosaurs.”
It finally dawned on me why everything is exciting and fun, albeit a young class. Love. That’s it. I love these children, and they love me. Everything falls into place once there is love.
A former student moved away recently, and someone said they would not miss him. It was mater of fact, not unkind, yet it made me look at my class and realize all that really matters is love. Learning happens after love. That’s why I wore my heart pin to school today.
I want to share with you my teacher hero. Her story is in my well worn copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul. She gets it:
A college professor had his sociology class go into the Baltimore slums to get case histories of 200 young boys. They were asked to write an evaluation of each boy’s future. In every case the students wrote, “He hasn’t got a chance.” Twenty five years later another sociology professor came across the earlier study. He had his students follow up on the project to see what had happened to these boys. With the exception of 20 boys who had moved away or died, the students learned that 176 of the remaining 180 had achieved more than ordinary success as lawyers, doctors and businessmen.
The professor was astounded and decided to pursue the matter further. Fortunately, all the men were in the area and he was able to ask each one, “How do you account for your success?” In each case the reply came with feeling. “There was a teacher.”
The teacher was still alive, so he sought her out and asked the old but still alert lady what magic formula she had used to pull these boys out of the slums into successful achievement.
The teacher’s eyes sparkled and her lips broke into a gentle smile. “It’s really very simple”, she said. “I loved those boys.”
Love means supporting children along the way. I support my children. So does Rita Pearson. When she heard a colleague say, “They don’t pay me to like the kids”, her response was “Kids don’t learn from people they don’t like.”
All you need is love. Really.
Guess what book I’ll be singing to the children…



Reading one-on-one
Reading in groups









Eric Carle



















