Dear Beary Good Teacher,
I have a confession. I hate Hallmark movies.
Hate might be too strong of a word.
Loathe is probably a more accurate description.
I don't mean to be offensive to anyone who has been cuddled up with a "I love Hallmark Christmas Movies" blanket and a cup of hot cocoa for the last 62 days. This is a tough year. All vices get a free pass.
I simply mean the song "Christmas Shoes" isn't grounds for me to pop a Xanax.
It's true I pride myself on not being a sap. Astonishingly enough, I've never cried in a single book or movie. Friends and family now recommend sad movies to see if they can be the first to make me cry. Marley and Me almost did the trick, but I held strong.
It's not that I am cold-hearted (at least I don't think I am), I simply have an uncanny ability to separate fact from fiction. If it's not real, the tears stall. However, if it's real, I'll need as much waterproof mascara as the devout Hallmark fan.
That's how the Christmas garland got me. In a high school riddled with suffering, one teacher concocted an idea to wrap the whole school in a paper chain made entirely of student hand prints. The idea was contagious. Before long, students were tracing toes, fingers, and foreheads to add another link to the ever-growing construction paper expression of love.
Despite teenage angst, the real Christmas miracle was the absence of a single eye roll or sigh of disgust. These students fully grasped that each individual handprint was a personalized message to the teacher battling an aggressive form of cancer and the countless others hurting.
Through a show of hands, 2000 kids let their teachers and friends know they would hug them if they could.
These were the same kids who shelled out cash- lots of it for Beary Christmas- an initiative designed to provide gifts for students in the school who wouldn't have much of a Christmas without the generosity of teens with small pocketbooks but big hearts.
When COVID dies, I want to shake the hand of the boy who gave $20 on Monday and came back with a $100 bill on Friday after cashing his weekly paycheck. Nobody would have guessed he was the same boy from September who said he hated school and was dropping out as soon as he turned eighteen. There's still five months left of the school year, but I'm willing to bet he turns a blue tassel in May.
As a district literacy coach, I have had the incredible opportunity to visit countless schools and attend nationally recognized conferences. In doing so, it seems everyone is looking for the magic pill for making a school great.
Nobody's ever asked me what makes a school extraordinary, but if the topic ever surfaces, I'll have a question ready.
"Have you considered creating a paper chain made entirely of hand prints?"
-CDB