Gratitude

Be genuine.

Grow soft and lift your heart to feel grateful.

Stop everything and listen when someone has a story to tell.

Take time to say "thank you" and to write thank you notes.

Discover the extraordinary in the ordinary and admire it.

--Ellen Haas, Coyote's Guide to Connecting with Nature

At the Wilderness Awareness School Mrs. C and I attended, outdoor activities are structured around a foundation of Core Routines for connecting with the natural world, the "learning habits" by which Howard Gardner's "naturalist intelligence" is developed. Gratitude is one such practice, one of the "things people do to learn nature's ways." Coyote's Guide to Connecting with Nature explains that "taking a moment to see the grace in elements of the natural world--frogs, rain, berries, or the sun--deepens our relationships with each one. Thanksgiving reinforces the interdependence of all living things." A routine of appreciation for "the things around us that support our lives" helps us turn our attention to the positive, to all that is right in the world. This is something like the "acknowledgements" we share at the end of each week during our class meeting--little handwritten notes documenting appreciation for those among our class whose acts and words help our classroom community continue to be a peaceful learning place. But this Core Routine of gratitude goes a step further in that it not only calls attention to what is going well with people but also to what is going well in the natural world around us. It calls us to offer conscious appreciation for the ways in which this supports our simple yet miraculous ability to be alive every day. "Discover the extraordinary in the ordinary and admire it."

The traditional Thanksgiving Address of the Iroquois Nation begins with people and then in turn notices that which is beautiful on the earth, in the waters, among the plants, animals, etc. Today, I begin with People, as well.

In a place that typically receives regular summer afternoon showers, we have had a record-breaking hot, dry summer. While Fluffy and I were adventuring far from home, we went an entire month without rain. I was feeling very impressed with the hardiness of native plants when I returned to school to discover that not only had our class butterfly garden survived, but it had flourished over the summer. Then another teacher clued me in that a neighborhood mother and grandfather (belonging to a first grader who will be joining our class this year) had been watering our gardens this summer! In this heat, that is a serious gift. It has also been a gift to take a moment from my frantic preparations to look out our big classroom windows onto a little patch of green buzzing beauty.

Thanksgiving also for family and friends, who fearlessly follow me off the deep end into absurdly messy, sweaty classroom projects. Thanks go to my patient mother who willingly waited without complaint while I debated over just which bulletin board border would look the very best in our classroom, which small lamp would best brighten our dark corner, which pitcher would be right for our landform work, the most attractive whiteboard to replace our bathroom sign-out board, and which white paint to use.

I am probably one of the few who regularly recruits the folks with advanced degrees to help paint her elementary school classroom (but then again, maybe not!). In my defense, this particular friend offered--well, mildly mentioned to my parents, "Doesn't she need any help painting or anything this year?" Before 24 hours had passed, she was swept into a faithful band of volunteers assembled to spend hours painting in my classroom last Sunday afternoon. Such "mild mentions" are dangerous at this time of year!

Regardless of your politics, I firmly believe that the work we do with children can't be done in isolation. No one can single-handedly raise a beautiful, healthy, happy human being without help. It really does take "a village" to do this well. Deep gratitude for all of you out there who are members of my village and for those who allow me to be a part of yours!

Maria Montessori wrote, "We are the sowers--our children are those who reap. We labor so that future generations will be better and nobler than we are." May it be so.