I’m washing the dishes after dinner.  My middle daughter, a 3^rd grader, sits across from me recounting her day.  She’s the one that seeks me out when the others are busy, knowing she will finally get my full attention.

This time, she doesn’t lead in with a warm up story about a joke she learned on the school bus or which friend she really, really wants to have sleep over this weekend.  She just goes straight for the heart.

“Today in class…” she pauses to make sure I am really paying attention.

“Yes, I’m listening.”

“Well, today in class, Mrs. Beda asked us to raise our hand if one of our parents had lost their job.”

“Really?”  I’m surprised her teacher would bring up such a potentially sensitive subject as a group discussion topic. “So, what happened?”

“Well, actually, first she told us her husband lost his job last week.” 

My mind starts calculating how much teachers make these days and I wonder if that will be enough for her family of four.  I love this woman and am worried for her, but still question her choice to talk about such a life-altering topic in class. I have stopped washing dishes now and am focusing my attention entirely on my daughter.

“So, did kids raise their hands?”

“Yeah, seven not including the teacher.”

“Seven?  And how many kids in your class?”

“22.”

Math was never one of my best subjects but it doesn’t take me long to figure it out.  Seven out of twenty-two, that’s close to a third of the kids in her class.  That doesn’t even include the teachers’ husband.

My daughter is waiting for me to say something but no words of wisdom are coming.  I keep asking questions.  Which kids?  Did they seem scared?  What did your teacher say after that?

“I was the only one who knew about Sarah’s dad.  She didn’t want to tell anyone else.  But she raised her hand after the other kids did.”  

And then I got it.  I understood why the teacher had asked them to raise their hands. 

In homes around the country, spanning all income levels, parents are having conversations.  The news is on during dinner. The radio plays on the drive to school.  And kids are listening.  Teachers know this, just like they knew it before. 

The Twin Towers fell and Mrs. Hollinger had them all sit in a circle and hold hands.

The Tsunami hit Indonesia and Mrs. Ogmundson showed them on a map how very far away it was and helped them raise money to send to the school children there.

The War began and Mr. Crothers told stories about when he was in the army and had them make cards for the soldiers.

The Gunman inexplicably kills his peers and Mrs. Semans teaches them what to do in a lock down situation and then let’s them ask “Why?’.

A local family’s house burns down and they collect clothes and toys in the classrooms.  A parent dies in a car accident and the teacher is the one to break the news to the class and then attends the funeral.

Everyday our children go to school carrying with them bits and pieces of information.  Things they overhear, things they see, things their parents scream and cry about.  They comprehend what they hear at levels as diverse as their learning abilities.  But they know when something is in the air.  And our teachers know when the time has come.  When they can not move forward with the daily lesson plan until they have somehow addressed another one of those issues that we would all rather not have to discuss with an 8 year-old.

Sometimes, when something really bad happens, I struggle with how to approach the subject with my kids. I don’t want to make them afraid of the world.  I will admit there have even been times I might have chosen not to tell them. Almost without fail, those are the times the teachers have stepped up to the plate.  It is so much easier to talk to my kids about violent school shootings when they have already spent time processing it with their peers, under the guidance of a teacher who gets where they are at.  It is empowering when they are given a task like raising money or collecting clothes. They are doing something, and that helps them to move forward.  It has been an invaluable gift to me as a parent.

So, there was Mrs. Beda.  Asking them to raise their hands.  Telling the kids about her husband.  Letting them know they are not alone.  Giving them a forum to share their own stories. Allowing them to ask the questions that maybe they were too afraid to ask at home.  She is teaching them life skills that are going to be especially valuable in the months ahead.  She is wrapping her arms around them. She gave them a writing assignment that day, “Write about a time when you felt afraid.”  Maybe this will be their pathway to discussion with their parents.

It’s an old story.  The role teachers play in our lives is under-valued.  Today, I want to recognize the teachers who are there for our kids when life feels uncertain.  The ones who don’t back away from the tough subjects but make them accessible to an 8 year-old.  The ones who show up even when their own lives are overwhelming. The ones who look into their student’s eyes and know it’s time to put the math lesson aside.