A Call for GRACE

"For many of us, this is more than a profession. It is a vocation; a calling to do work that is meant to make the world a better place. Such a calling,” he concludes, 'often feels mystical.'Goosebumps…HEARTWORK…a calling…" 
-Dr. Brokenleg

It was Winter break - my first year as a teacher for children with behavioral disorders. A college friend and I were meeting for lunch. My friend had done the same work for ten years, and I wanted to pick his brain. It was hard to admit how grossly unprepared I was and how much I did NOT know. Classroom reality was way harder than ‘effective classroom management’ and ‘writing appropriate IEP goals and objectives.’ Behavior charts and the required level system took up an entire classroom wall - and countless hours before and after school and on weekends.

My students - six and seven years old - came to school with extreme misbehaviors and mental health diagnoses that no child should have. Their stories were tragic; their circumstances chaotic.They came from complicated families, entrenched in addiction, mental illness and generational poverty. Their parents’ hopelessness was almost tangible - a pervasive poverty of spirit. I was grateful for my job, but wiped out physically and emotionally. My own kids needed me to be a mom, and I honestly felt like I had nothing left to give.

Small talk, and then my plea: “I need help!” My teacher friend was quiet and thoughtful. He finally answered with a question. “Have you been to any funerals yet?” I answer, somewhat confused: “No. What’s that got to do with it?” His reply, “You will. And If you do this job the right way, your heart will break. It’s inevitable.” He added wise advice that stuck with me for my entire career: “Don’t ever feel sorry for those kids. You can’t change where they come from or what they go home to. Make your classroom into a new home. Treat your students the way you want teachers to treat YOUR kids. Love them even when you don’t like them.Teach. Have fun. Stay. It’s worth it.”

And so I stayed.Twenty years later, at a conference in the Black Hills of South Dakota, I would recall that early conversation. My current students were in high school - older, yet still with intense social and emotional needs, on top of typical teenage angst. The keynote speaker was Dr. Martin Brokenleg, coauthor of Reclaiming Youth at Risk, Our Hope For the Future; an amazing book that had introduced me to the beautiful philosophy of the Circle of Courage. I am calmed by the melodic voice of Dr. Brokenleg, a Lakota elder and Episcopal minister. “Knowledge,” he tells us, “is given through lectures and explanations. Knowledge gives us ‘head work’ - crisp formulas and firm conclusions.” He continues, “learning through experience is something very different. People work requires working from the heart. When we do Heartwork, the heart is liberated. Heartwork sees people on a deeper level, especially wounded people.”

According to Dr. Brokenleg, “A profession requires long term training that affects your character and indelibly changes you. For many of us, this is more than a profession. It is a vocation; a calling to do work that is meant to make the world a better place.” “Such a calling,” he concludes, “often feels mystical.” Goosebumps…HEARTWORK…a calling…mystical…this is what my friend was describing two decades ago.

In the years since that lunch, I’ve been to nine funerals for students. The youngest took his own life - two days from turning 13. The oldest was 35. None died of natural causes. There have been other tears. I have a bundle of letters from incarcerated former students. I always answer. In my memory, Jimmy and Paul are still gap-tooted first graders who loved dinosaurs and playing Uno - not inmates with mug shots and court ordered years. It would be easy to self-chastise for pouring so much into them…

…but Heartwork doesn’t do that. Heartwork is transformative. It takes you from doing to knowing. Heartwork liberates you from what other people think, to understanding that you never have to apologize for seeing the best in a child, especially when nobody else does. While cleaning my home office during the pandemic, I found the notes from Martin Brokenleg’s presentation. Those words clarify why so many educators are struggling. We’re out of balance. This isn’t what we signed up for. We are a creative and resourceful profession. Head work has hijacked us to constantly re-imagine our “how.” Head work is what systems do to survive. As caring professionals, we tell ourselves that everything we are doing is enough. In truth, we know better.

Heartwork is our why. We KNOW that children need a pat on the back, a quick hug, a high five, encouragement, accountability and reassurance. For some of our students, school means heat and food. Stability. Sanctuary. A place to belong. The practice of Heartwork believes that our guidance, our wisdom, our presence is what young people need and crave, even when they rebel. Love and trust are not meant to be virtual or remote or hijacked by people on a computer who they don’t know and will never meet.

And so, resilient educators, we may be discouraged, yet we stay. For now, it may help to remember why we chose this vocation - this calling. Heartwork is powerful fuel for the soul. In dark times, Heartwork will always guide us to do what is right, even when it challenges us. Heartwork keeps us strong and brave. It felt really good to hang a new calendar in January of 2021- to symbolically put 2020 in the trash can. I believe this pandemic has “indelibly changed us.” Perhaps our profession is being led and encouraged to experience our work on a deeper level; to grieve our 2020 losses so we can revel in the joy of future connection and togetherness.

We begin every school year with a bit of anxiety. Yet we must encourage ourselves and each other to “stay up” and balance anxiety with a sense of HOPE. May we open our hearts to the lessons. My wise college friend and I both have retired. His words still ring true. Love those students (at least try). Have fun. Goals, objectives and mandates will come and go.  

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What we put into the hearts of our children will stay - and not just for one school year. Heartwork - our real work - will last for a lifetime.

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