We know why kids don't learn. It's either poverty,
low attendance, negative peer influences— we know why.
But one of the things that we never discuss or we rarely discuss
is the value and importance of human connection.
Relationships. I have had classes that were so low,
so academically deficient, that I cried.
I wondered, "How am I going to take this group, in nine months,
from where they are to where they need to be? How do I raise the self-esteem of a child
and his academic achievement at the same time?"
One year I came up with a bright idea. I told all my students,
"You were chosen to be in my class because I am the best teacher and you
are the best students. They put us all together so we
could show everybody else how to do it."
One of the students said, "Really?" I said, "Really."
And I gave them a saying to say: "I am somebody. I was somebody when I came.
I'll be a better somebody when I leave. I am powerful, and I am strong.
I deserve the education that I get here. I have things to do, people to impress,
and places to go." And they said, "Yeah!"
You say it long enough, it starts to be a part of you.
Both my parents were educators. My maternal grandparents were educators.
For years, I watched my mother take the time at recess to review,
go on home visits in the afternoon, buy combs and brushes and peanut butter
and crackers to put in her desk
drawer for kids that needed to eat, and a washcloth and some soap for the kids
who didn't smell so good. See, it's hard to teach kids who stink.
Years later, after she retired, I watched some of those same kids
come through and say to her, "You know, Ms. Walker, you made
a difference in my life. You made it work for me.
You made me feel like I was somebody, when I knew, at the bottom, I wasn't.
And I want you to just see what I've become." And when my mama died two years ago at 92,
there were so many former students at her funeral,
it brought tears to my eyes, not because she was gone,
but because she left a legacy of relationships
that could never disappear. Every child deserves a champion,
an adult who will never give up on them, who understands the power of connection,
and insists that they become the best that they can possibly be.
Is this job tough? You betcha. Oh God, you betcha.
But it is not impossible. We can do this. We're educators. We're born to make a difference.