Canaries in the Coal Mine

Another uplifting course completed, with 40 lovely international school teachers eager to upgrade their teaching while remembering their own delight in joyful music and dance. They were deeply appreciative of both the material and the seamless process of developing it. But when it came time for questions, the sentiments that surface time and time again were the issues of reaching reluctant or defiant or unfocused kids. I did two demo classes with the 6-year-olds and the 5^th grade, so they did get to see directly how I handled certain situations. My first answer, in both my thinking and my teaching, is simply to love kids, expect their foibles, invite them to play rather than scold them to work, give them engaging worthy material that effortlessly attracts them, give them space to not be perfect and so on. 

 

But it was indeed alarming to talk informally over lunch and hear stories like these:

·      The 6-year-old getting kids to pay him for him to play with him at recess. (New Age bullying.)

·      A teacher telling a kid he’ll have to talk to his Mom to get permission for the kid’s request and the kid (also 6) answering, “ Oh, my mom does whatever  I say.” (Not also the absence of the Dad.)

·      Teacher screaming at kids.

·      A Head of School driving a Ferrari bought from his school salary, but no money in the budget for teachers to buy paper.

·      Girl who’s one refuge is music punished for something else by taking away the chance to participate in music. 

·      A 2^nd grade kid habitually hitting other kids, breaking things in the classroom and even hitting the teacher without consequence because the adults are told to “honor his trauma.” 

 

And these are the stories from expensive private international schools where parents pay high tuitions!

 

Kids are the canaries in the coal mine, warning us of the dangers of imminent cultural collapse. That expression comes from derived coal miners using caged birds to detect toxic gases like carbon monoxide in mines. Due to their high sensitivity to fumes, the birds would stop singing or die, allowing miners to evacuate. Immersed in the toxic fumes of our poisonous cultural practices and the narratives that sustain them, the children have stopped singing the delights of childhood. Instead, they shout or scream or hit or remain mute and we guardians have run out the door and left them alone. 

 

But kids are also remarkably resilient and if you give them the fresh air of a glorious Spring day in the countryside, they will sing their beautiful songs. Soon after writing this, I worked for an hour with twenty 5^th graders and naturally, some kids fooling around a little bit or not fully participating and such. They’re kids. But I’m onto them in seconds and when I playfully redirect them and they realize that everything I’m teaching them— some cool body percussion patterns, a clapping play with a partner, a dance, a little drama acting out (without physical contact!) the older version of the Home Alone movie, Step Back, Baby, they’re with me 150%. I thread those four things together into one exuberant performance, check in with them constantly as to how they’re doing (with my thumb-o-meter), ask at the end who got better, who knew what their next step toward mastery will be, who enjoyed it, they were right there with me. Twenty singing canaries testifying that when adults give kids things worthy of their time and attention, they’re right there with you. 

 

So while the stories I heard are sobering, my actual experience with kids is always uplifting, thanks to 50 years of practice as to how to help kids sing their song. As are my workshops with teachers offering new perspectives on how to engage, support and love their students. 

 

And so I continue.