On the last day of school, excitement mingles with farewell tears. The 5th graders I teach at Columbine Elementary in Woodland Park, Colorado, are particularly emotional because this is their last day in this building. For many, it's the culmination of a six-year journey in the only school they have ever attended.
Attempting to bring closure to this journey, we sit in a circle on the floor for one final class meeting. Our meeting begins, as always, with a compliment circle; each participant chooses to give or receive a compliment or to pass. Over and over students express sentiments like, "I want to compliment the whole class. … We did a good job taking care of one another," "We really became a family this year," and "We were good to each other this year."
These comments reflect the cohesive community this class of 20 kids has built during the school year. That cohesion did not occur naturally. Early in the year, I watched my band of students begin to fracture. It wasn't just bickering and playground disagreements: Girls bullied other girls through insults and exclusion, cliques formed, students with low social skills were ostracized, and most students ignored classmates who had learning and physical differences that were outside their comfort zones.
As I pondered how to teach my students to respect one another, I thought of the personal and social responsibility standards Columbine Elementary uses to teach students what mature, responsible behavior looks like. We evaluate students quarterly and show them how to evaluate their own progress using a rubric of six skills, such as "listens attentively" and "supports and interacts positively with others"—the latter being the skill that seemed to apply here.
People can't learn if they don't feel safe. And a sense of safety goes beyond physical security to include a sense of purpose and belonging—of being able to be yourself and claim ownership of the place where you learn. Just as I want students to have ownership of classroom rules, I want them to own the class atmosphere and make it inclusive.
All Together Now
So we began knitting ourselves together, learning to act in a socially responsible way by treating classmates respectfully. To heighten awareness of interdependence, I tried a new group-building activity. At one weekly meeting, as each student complimented someone, he or she tossed a ball of yarn to another student in the circle, first wrapping the yarn around a hand or finger. We continued to toss the ball back and forth until we built a web. Once we were entangled, I elicited students' observations.
First came superficial comments about how the weave looked like a spider web, how colorful it was, and how fingers were getting numb. Eventually, the observations deepened. Finally, someone noted, "I feel the whole web shake when someone else moves." Then another added, "Because we are all connected." And, finally, "Yeah, just like we're connected in our class. When we do something mean, we all feel it."
At our next meeting, I asked, "What did we learn about interacting with one another through the yarn toss?" We discussed how we are all in this schooling experience together and all bring strengths and weaknesses. "What can we do to help one another out?" I probed. "How can we make sure we aren't hurting one another?"
We agreed that we must pay attention to how our actions affect those around us, just as we'd had to mind the yarn to ensure we didn't pull too hard on someone's fingers. We agreed to pledge to take care of one another. I had students stand in two facing rows. Each learner reached across the aisle, shook hands with the person opposite, and pledged, "I will take care of you." We shifted down the row one by one as if in some 19th-century parlor dance and repeated the process until every student had looked every other student in the eye and promised, "I will take care of you." Yes, it became a little silly, but it was meaningful!
As our year wound on, we ended every class meeting with a group chant of "I will take care of you." The phrase became our mantra. Jealousy over another's success was confronted by asking, "Is that taking care of him?" As we worked to solve quarrels, I often said things like, "Were those words taking care of her?" and "I think you need to renew your promise to take care of one another." For example, when one girl argued with her friend over the rules for playing tetherball, I encouraged these two to talk to resolve the argument and to focus on taking care of each other to ensure that both players enjoyed the game.
We even brought the idea of looking out for others into academic lessons. As we studied history, we pondered the motivations of the early European explorers of North America. "Who were these explorers taking care of?" we asked ourselves when we read about Columbus landing and trading with the native people.
Beyond Our Classroom
This approach expanded to places outside our classroom. Discussions about lunchroom behavior or exchanges with other classes came down to taking care of one another, extending our pledge to other students. As we prepared for a field day with other elementary schools, we considered the reputation we could create by taking care of people we didn't already have a relationship with.
When I reflect on what I want to accomplish with the young minds in my care, the answers have nothing to do with achievement gains or test scores. I want to create responsible members of society, people who understand that their climb to success should not be on the backs of others, and who understand that by working together we accomplish more. I truly hope that students will remember how they learned to appreciate strengths and shore up weak spots in classmates.
As these 10-year-olds celebrated their final year before middle school, I knew they had learned to support one another.
