She tapped me on the shoulder just as the school superintendent was getting ready to speak.
“Just wanted you to know,” she said, “I chose my outfit today around the bracelet.”
I knew the bracelet she meant.
Michelle welcomes every child and adult who approaches her attendance desk like a treasured guest in her home. I was a new staff member last year, transferred in because district decisions demanded it. I wasn’t sure anyone wanted me. Michelle’s smile let me know it was OK, that I would figure this new place out, too.
So when I greeted her one day last February, and saw the tears in her eyes, I knew something was seriously wrong. I slipped a thin turquoise bangle off my wrist and handed it to her. I told her that turquoise, when given as a gift, brings courage and hope, which I could tell she needed.
Michelle never told me what bothered her that day, but it didn’t matter. As the face the school presents to the world, she needs hope and courage every day. She’s worn the bracelet ever since.
Superstitions can happen just that way. We, who live in an increasingly uncontrollable world, want to believe that we can influence outcomes. We hear about batters and pitchers who wear particular socks or scratch a spot or cross themselves, believing it will lead to a home run or a strikeout.
I’m an agnostic. But I still wish on the first star I see every night, I wear my lucky jewelry, and sometimes chant a few words to the Buddha.
On the second work day of this school year, my school’s special education department met all morning with supervisors. In the afternoon, we attended a meeting for every secondary staff member in the district.
By afternoon, I was irritated thinking about all I could’ve accomplished if I’d gotten to spend the afternoon at my desk, preparing curriculum and assessing the needs of my new students. This year, someone had crafted the speeches for brevity, and skits from commercials and TV shows leavened the presentation. But buzzwords still carried the day. When we examine assessment results, we are to “drill down” to determine exactly the skills we need to teach. We are to “teach every child, every day.” We are to prepare each student “for a world yet to be imagined.” I was tempted to enact one of those games you hear about, where every time a cliche sounds, a group stands up and cheers, or takes a swig of beer, or drums on the floor.
Then I realized the true function of these words. They aren’t examples of lazy or unimaginative writing. They are amulets, talismans. Like chants or prayers, these words can help to guard our way to a decent destination by the end of the year.
We could use a talisman. Our kids are getting poorer. The only lines that pointed decisively up on the graphs the superintendent presented demonstrated the number of kids getting free and reduced lunches. The shadow of the demands of No Child Left Behind and its stepchild, Race to the Top, hung over the assembled educators like Damocles’ sword, especially given the test scores that trended ever-so-slightly downward, and the gap between the white and minority kids that stubbornly refuses to close.
And those of us who thought about it realized that the world waiting for our graduates is constructed for anything but their success.
We need all the turquoise we can get.
Eva Syrovy (evasyrov@msn.com) of Colorado Springs is a special education teacher.
