tkt8763-01: Re: Discussion Group "I Can't" - RIP (fwd)

[Sharon Andrews Croft <sac5@ra.msstate.edu>]

                  THE "I CAN'T" FUNERAL

      Donna's fourth grade classroom looked like any others I had seen
in the past. The teacher's desk was in front and faced the students. The
bulletin board featured student work. In most respects it appeared to be a
typically traditional elementary classroom. Yet something seemed different that
day I entered it for the first time.  

My job was to make classroom visitations and encourage implementation of a
training program that focused on language arts ideas that would empower
students to feel good about themselves and take charge of their lives.
Donna was one of the volunteer teachers who participated in this project.  
I took an empty seat in the back of the room and watched.

    All the students were working on a task, filling a sheet of notebook
paper with thoughts and ideas. The ten-year-old student next to me was
filling her page with "I Can'ts". "I can't kick the soccer ball past second base." "I
can't do long division with more than three numerals." "I can't get Debbie to like me." Her
page was half full and she showed no signs of letting up. She worked on with
determination and persistence. 

	I walked down the row glancing at student's papers.
Everyone was writing sentences, describing things they couldn't do. By
this time the activity engaged my curiosity, so I decided to check with the 
teacher to see what was going on but I noticed she too was busy writing.
I felt it best not to interrupt. "I can't get John's mother to come for a
teacher conference." "I can't get my daughter to put gas in the car." 
"I can't get Alan to use words instead of fists."  Thwarted in my efforts
to determine why students and teacher were dwelling on the negative
instead of writing the more positive "I Can" statements, I returned to my
seat and continued my observations. 

	Students wrote for another ten minutes. They were then instructed to 
fold the papers in half and bring them to the front. They placed their "I
Can't" statements into an empty shoe box. Then Donna added hers. She put
the lid on the box, tucked it under her arm and headed out the door and
down the hall. Students followed the teacher. I followed the students. 

	Halfway down the hallway Donna entered the custodian's 
room, rummaged around and came out with a shovel. Shovel in one hand, shoe
box in the other, Donna marched the students out to the school to the farthest
corner of the playground. There they began to dig. They were going to bury
their "I Can'ts"! The digging took over ten minutes because most of the 
fourth graders wanted a turn. The box of "I Can'ts" was placed in a
position at the bottom of the hole and then quickly covered with dirt. 

	Thirty-one 10 and 11 year-olds stood around the freshly dug grave
site. At this point Donna announced, "Boys and girls, please join hands
and bow your heads." They quickly formed a circle around the grave,
creating a bond with their hands.  

	They lowered their heads and waited.  Donna delivered the eulogy.
"Friends, we gathered here today to honor the memory of 'I Can't.'
While he was with us here on earth, he touched the lives of everyone, some
more than others.   We have provided 'I Can't' with a final resting place 
and a headstone that contains his epitaph. His is survived by his brothers
and sisters, 'I Can', 'I Will', and 'I'm Going to Right Away'. They are
not as well known as their famous relative and are certainly not as strong and
powerful yet. Perhaps some day, with your help, they will make an even
bigger mark on the world. May 'I Can't' rest in peace and may everyone 
present pick up their lives and move forward in his absence. Amen."

 	As I listened I realized that these students would never forget this
day. Writing "I Can'ts", burying them and hearing the eulogy. That was a major
effort on the part of this teacher. And she wasn't done yet.

	She turned the students around, marched them back into the
classroom and held a wake. They celebrated the passing of "I Can't" with  
cookies, popcorn and fruit juices. As part of the celebration, Donna cut a
large tombstone from butcher paper. She wrote the words "I Can't" at the
top and put RIP in the middle.  The date was added at the bottom. The paper 
tombstone hung in Donna's classroom  for the remainder of the year.  On
those rare occasions when a student forgot and said, "I Can't", Donna
simply pointed to the RIP sign. The student then remembered that "I Can't"
was dead and chose to rephrase the statement. I wasn't one of Donna's
students. She was one of mine. Yet that day I learned an enduring lesson
from her as years later, I still envision that fourth grade class laying
to rest, "I Can't".






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