At the beginning of grade three, I moved to a new elementary school, and I will never forget the first time I walked through the front doors. As I entered the lobby, I saw a big indoor pond with a trickling fountain and several shiny, orange goldfish swimming around. The fish were plump and the water was crystal clean. I just stood there…staring at the pond for what seemed like a long time. Then, the principal just happened to notice me standing there, and walked over to say “You know what, Mary? Our students built that pond a few years ago.” I looked back up at him, and I just remember thinking: …WOW! The STUDENTS made this?! And, the TEACHERS let them? I am sooo glad I switched schools. Also, the principal knows my name and seems really kind. Yup, this is the place for me. I felt warm and fuzzy all over, like I was being wrapped in a big hug. I was right at home.
That new “home” was Centennial Central Public School in a rural town called Comber, Ontario. I attended this school for the remainder of my elementary school years, and as a kid who was dealing with layers of trauma and a lot of instability at the time, this was a huge gift. But, of course, I wouldn’t really know just how important this school and the teachers in it would be—and the positive impact this would have on my life—until much, much later. It wouldn’t be until I was working through that trauma as an adult, and eventually became an educator myself, that I would understand the significant role that this school had on my life.
And more recently, this powerful impact has captured my attention…because I’ve now worked with many children who are struggling with mental health issues and are likely facing some pretty tough stuff outside of the classroom walls. And I’ve employed lots of strategies, some with success and some that seemed to fall flat. Most times, I found myself feeling pretty lost and ill-equipped to deal with what I was seeing in the classroom. And so, as an educator, I wondered: what were the “special ingredients” my elementary school teachers possessed that made the difference for me as a child? Back then I was often a sad, lonely, confused, scared, shy kid at home. But at school, I was able to see other sides of myself come to life. At school, I saw glimmers of ‘the happy kid’, ‘the kid who felt safe’, ‘the creative kid’, ‘the smart kid’, and ‘the kid who mattered’. So, what was happening at school that allowed for those glimmers to shine through?
I got to work on trying to sort this all out. I wanted to know if any of the well-documented, effective methods of ‘how to support a traumatized child’ would also align with some of the ways my teachers helped me cope. I read books, research journals, and articles. I listened to podcasts, TEDtalks, and followed the work of world-renowned thought-leaders in the field of trauma. Truly, I ate-up anything I could find on the topic of how to build resiliency in the face of trauma—because I wanted to see if some of these strategies might align with my childhood experiences of “what works”. And, low and behold, they did.
Supporting Children with Trauma:
What My Elementary School Did and How It This Is Supported by Research
So, what were some of my school teacher’s “special ingredients” that research also tells us is effective in supporting children with trauma? I zoomed-in on these two that seemed to keep coming up in the literature:
First, truly being seen, heard, and known has been proven to build resiliency in children. In other words, when authentic and meaningful reciprocity exists between children and educators on a daily basis, children are provided with the foundational elements to support their overall mental health. According to Dr. Bessel Van Der Kolk, author of The Body Keeps the Score, “[in our trauma-informed schools]…we make certain that children are greeted by name each morning and that teachers make face-to-face contact with each and every one of them…we start the day with check-ins: taking the time to share what’s on everyone’s mind.” (p. 512). In his many years of practice and research, Van Der Kolk found that this was fundamental in cultivating a sense of safety for children. And when children have safe, warm, predictable connections with adults, their internal systems can reach an equilibrium that sets them up for learning.
My educators fostered safety by connecting with children in an authentic way every day. In fact, it was quite rare to walk the hallways of my school and not be greeted with a smile and a kind “hello!” or “good morning!” from the staff. And more than that, they took the time to listen and understand us. I recall I was having a particularly hard time adjusting to a new school in the beginning, and my new grade 3 teacher, Mrs. Skuce, offered me so much compassion and care through those hard first days. I was terrified to sit with the other children at my desk and opted to sit near the classroom door for two whole days. She never rushed me or forced me to join in before I was ready. Instead, she paid attention to what I was interested in learning about, and thoughtfully wove that into the curriculum. My curiosity and genuine interest in the amazing experiences she was offering, along with her warmth and compassion, was what helped me to finally join the other children, to move away from the door, and sit at my desk.
Because she was an expert at “seeing and knowing” her students, Mrs. Skuce was also the first person to notice and ignite my passion for learning, art, and reading. She was a keen observer of our interests and curiosities, and seamlessly brought this into the classroom curriculum in a way that was truly engaging. One particular example that comes to mind was when she read us Roald Dahl’s James and the Giant Peach. She read that book to us with such theatrics and gusto—so much so that my mouth watered when she read about James taking his first bites into the juicy peach. Her readings of James and the Giant Peach offered me some temporary reprieve from the weight of the troubles I was facing at home, and I often felt I could relate to James, the main character, quite a bit. I mean, here was a boy who was mistreated by his family, and yet he escapes and finds a happy home with some insects in a magical peach. That sounded pretty good to me. Even though a far-fetched tale, James found some hope, joy, and freedom, and I wondered if maybe I could too. To this day, Roald Dahl is still my favourite children’s author, and I attribute my love for reading to Mrs. Skuce’s amazing read-alouds.
But Mrs. Skuce didn’t stop the magic of this story with her storytelling. She noticed our deep passion for this novel and brought our learning a step further by providing us with a chance to cook and eat peach cobbler in-class. I will never forget the smell of that warm cobbler and its delicious taste (something I had never eaten before). I didn’t have to wonder what a warm peach might taste like anymore or just hear about it in a story. If just for a minute, I could be just like James, enjoying a magical treat in a far-away land. More than just bringing literature to life, throughout these experiences (and many others), Mrs. Skuce lived-out “seeing, hearing, and knowing” her students. This made me feel like I mattered and that I was safe. And because of that nurturing, I grew to love my new school, to make friends, and to learn.
Second, promoting a sense of agency and community also builds resiliency in children. According to Van Der Kolk, “…resilience is the product of agency: knowing that what you do can make a difference. Many of us remember what playing team sports, singing in the school choir, or playing in the marching band meant to us, especially if we had coaches or directors who believed in us, pushed us to excel, and taught us we could be better than we thought was possible. The children we reach need these experiences.” (p. 516).
This is an area that my teacher’s especially leaned-into in their practice. In our little, rural elementary school, the educators provided opportunities well beyond the everyday classroom curriculum. Sports teams, student council, school dances, choir and play performances,…the list goes on and on in terms of the robust extra-curriculars that were offered to students. And, most importantly, the teachers always ensured that the student’s contributions and agency was at the forefront.
This makes me think of Mrs. Overton, a full-time teacher who also ran a year-round choir for students and organized annual student plays for the community. In these experiences, by supporting each of us to reach our full potential, we were stretched beyond “what we thought we could do”. Most years, I was a part of the choir, and I relished the opportunity to use my voice in this way. At home, I felt silenced much of the time, but in the choir, I could raise my voice and make some joyful noise. It felt like freedom. One year, I decided to be brave enough to also try out for the annual play, Pirates of Penzance. Even though I was terrified to audition (I would be singing solo, not amongst my friends in the choir), I felt that Mrs. Overton believed in me, so I gave it a try. Low and behold, I got a role! Finally, I would be part of the “big play”, and get to dance, act, and sing on stage. This is something I never would have done, if not for her whole-hearted belief in our competencies and ability to be brave, show up, and do the work.
When I think of the agency we employed through the choir and those play productions—with students involved in every level of those efforts both on-stage and behind-the-scenes, I understand why I wanted to be a part of those experiences so desperately as a kid. When I was singing in the choir, I could make some noise and contribute to something bigger. When I was on stage, I had a chance to put my months of practice, hard work, and skills to-the-test, and offer the fruit of those labours back to the community on opening night. In both cases, whether in the choir or on-stage, I did something I never thought I could or would be willing to do, and I was reminded of my power. Now, I’m not saying teacher’s need to put on big performances or elaborate events to make a difference. As a past educator, I certainly understand the growing demands of the job. But what I am saying is that supporting children’s agency and believing in them is crucial in enabling them to recognize their own power, be brave, and rise above. As much as I remember my part in Pirates of Penzance, I also remember (just as clearly) the times teachers encouraged me to solve a really tricky math problem, provided me with the skills to do the perfect lay-up in basketball, or offered a nod of support in the middle of my fifth-grade speech. Every interaction holds the potential to make a difference.
In all of this, I want to remind educators that you do make a difference. We are living in complex times, and even though you may not be seeing all the fruits of your labour now, it’s efforts like this that can change the trajectory of a child’s life forever. I know because my educators did it for me, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
Pause & Reflect:
1.) Can you relate to my story in some way? What aspects of this post resonate with you?
2.) In what ways do you truly see, hear, and know the children in your care?
3.) How do the children in your care exercise their agency? Bring to mind some examples.
4.) Our connections with children can serve them for a lifetime, even if they’ve moved on from our classroom or program. What are some of your wishes for the futures of the children in your care? What gifts do you hope to offer that they can take with them?
*This piece is dedicated to all the staff who worked with me at Centennial Central Public School. Especially:
Mr. Sinclair, who recognized my potential and passion for writing & public speaking.
Mrs. Overton, who gave me a voice to sing & taught me the importance of commitment.
Mrs. Mullen, who provided me with structure, consistency, & flexibility when I needed it most.
And to Mrs. Skuce, who taught me that I mattered.
References:
Van Der Kolk, B. (2015). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma by bessel van der kolk, MD | Key Takeaways, Analysis & Review. IDreamBooks Inc.
