The battle between Mama at home and Mama at school

I sat in a little library full of little chairs this week. The books around me called to my sense of wonder. How to draw dinosaurs. The inside of a volcano. Abraham Lincoln. Folding a piece of paper into animals. These elementary school books seemed so much more fun than the books I see in our high school library.

As I walked down the little hall to the little library, I could not help but notice that on the outside of every classroom were proudly displayed works of art. Right near the front of the school, the pictures of award-winners were proudly displayed on the wall, so I couldn’t help but stop and take a look. The faces were so cute with their missing toothed smiles and pigtails. They looked so innocent and sweet. High school students definitely don’t look the same as these little tykes. Most have all their teeth. Many are officially grown-ups, and some, quite honestly, are not so innocent and not so sweet.

I was visiting Reese Road Elementary School to share a few words and be inspired by my teammates of a few grades lower than mine. One cannot ignore the extreme differences between schools with playgrounds and schools with student parking lots.

But I learned a very valuable lesson from my Reese Road partners in educating our youth, despite the obvious differences between us. Elementary school teachers deal with the same issues as those of us who teach the big kids. I think one of the most daunting tasks we teachers must tackle, no matter the age group, is the desperate, unspoken call for teachers to rear and raise our nation’s children.

I knew elementary teachers were Momma to their students. (Remember one of my earlier columns, “Why I picked high school”?) I get that. But what I didn’t fully understand until my visit was the perplexing battle an elementary teacher fights between Momma at home and Teacher at school. Let me explain.

I spoke at length to Reese Road’s Sadie Helton, a phenomenal first grade teacher. Her little students have a difficult time battling between two voices in their heads — Momma at Home and Momma at School. For instance, when her students are responding to a question, Miss Helton wants them to respond, obviously, in proper English. Her kids respond with comments like, “But that’s not how my momma says it.” Hence, the constant battle.

This 6-year-old perspective reveals a great insight. Take their very innocent remark and balloon it into behavior, choices, attitudes, fortitude, etc. Extend that sentiment into our children’s views on education, authority, work ethic. Teachers speak life and options and potential and dreams into their students, but the reality is, our voice is deafened by the actions and words they hear in their homes and community — words and actions that often are in direct opposition to ours. The comments by Miss Helton’s students seem to highlight the very nature of the competition teachers face to undo what’s been done.

Speaking from the teacher’s perspective, sometimes I get discouraged at the battle raging in my own classroom. It’s a David vs. Goliath colossal war of wits, a seemingly losing battle against home and everything home represents outside of the school walls. I’m just me. She’s Momma! One can’t compete with Momma.

So, what is a teacher to do? Well, Miss Helton had a great idea. Cultivate an atmosphere. Create an environment of support, good manners and kindness. For Miss Helton, she tapped into her students’ obsession with the movie “Frozen” to incorporate standards of character into her classroom procedural rules. Underneath “Raise your hand to speak” and “Walk in a quiet, straight line to lunch,” you’ll find rules like: “Be encouraging,” Speak kindly,” “Show good manners.”

The key for success lies in the way Miss Helton teaches her students how to be and do those things.

When a child erupts with ugly words, she reclaims the atmosphere with a simple, “Now, that doesn’t sound like kind words. How can you correct what you just said?” The kids are responding. Once the environment is established, her students begin to grow into self-reflecting participants in kindness. They correct themselves and each other.

Truth be told, I don’t know and Miss Helton doesn’t know if the character lessons she is teaching to these 6-year-olds will hold up until they make it to high school graduation. And we both have no idea if the kids go home and act a totally different way.

But after spending a little while with Miss Helton, I realized hope is the only sustaining force we teachers have. And if the kindergarten teacher has the same hope, and the first grade teacher has the same hope, and the second grade teacher has the same hope, and on and on until the senior English teacher has the same hope, then the possibilities are endless.

It’s a hope that regardless of what Momma says and does at home, our mission is to grab our megaphone and shout loudly into our students words of life, options, potential and dreams. So, thanks, Miss Helton, for sharing your battle cry with me and helping me realize that all teachers, no matter the age group, must work together to raise these children.

And count me in to fight with you.

This story was originally published April 19, 2016 at 5:17 PM with the headline "The battle between Mama at home and Mama at school."