ELEMENTARY

Come spend the day with me. 

I want to share the best part of my job with you.

The Elementary School Visit.

A magnificent sign welcomes us to our home for the day.

Student paintings, sketches, and star ornaments transform library into art gallery.

Tables used for scribbling and study are decorated with bright paper and holiday centerpieces for an impromptu breakfast.

Because dedicated teachers, librarians and staff aren't simply educators.

 They are bakers and makers of all things delicious.

Stars and snake await the arrival of K -2 students, who settle in rows and listen attentively as the lady with crazy hair reads, talks (with her hands) and answers questions.  

Hours rush by. Time to lunch and chat with the winners of a short essay contest.

Before afternoon sessions begin, we walk the decked halls...

marveling at the talents of childhood.

At day's end, a trio of proud, eloquent students present precious thank you gifts.

Shimmering pipe cleaner trees lovingly constructed....

a priceless suede and vellum book, handmade by a master craftswoman.

The Elementary School Visit. 

It's pure joy.

For a full seven hours, I am on sensory overload, determined not to miss a single moment of the energy, joy, and purpose that I'll collect as a gift for sharing my time and experience. 

It's the reward that inspires me to work. Write. Live.

Hear energy, joy, and purpose in the sweet, spectacular singsong of five, six, seven-year-olds calling out,  "Good Morning!"

See it in rows of students seated knee to knee on the big blue reading rug. Note the Playful Child. The Overachiever. Soloist. Athlete. Scholar. Loner. Queen Bee. Spot wiggly, serious, silly, gorgeous, inquisitive, rumpled, determined, chatty, and work to educate and inspire all. 

Feel it while high-fiving the 5 year old who answers a way-too-tough question. Or tap a child's raised hand and view wonder take root in her mind, voice, and expression as she articulates an insightful thought. 

Energy, joy, purpose. They're pulsing through elementary school classrooms as the bold and comfortable hug me around the knees, or I kneel and speak quietly to the child staring at the rug and chewing on her sleeve.

I can even smell and taste pure joy at Elementary School Lunch as I munch on cheese pizza and carrot sticks. A dozen students and I sip fruit punch and make goldfish trails on tables while I answer questions about my books and kids, my schnoodle and shi-poo.

Roam elementary school halls and hear dedicated teachers read, count, and shout instructions on how best to dribble a ball. Read scribbled paragraphs and delight in chalk drawings and colored-pencil sketches that adorn painted brick walls. Chat with librarians and teachers. Talk shop. Talk art. 

I double dare you not to be inspired.

Too soon, school buses arrive. I hug, high-five, or wink at each child who catches my eye to say goodbye. Long after I pull out of the parking lot, I still hear children's voices. See faces. Eyes. Smiles.

These past few days, the faces, eyes, and smiles - the photographs - of twenty Sandy Hook elementary school children have occupied my thoughts.

Sensory overload has become heartbreak overload as I read and reread the stories of brave and beloved children and educators.  

I know these people, though I have never met them. For years - in countless elementary schools - I have reveled in the energy, joy, and purpose of children and educators just like those who so tragically lost their lives  in Newtown, CT. 

Now I find myself relying on them.

Because we so desperately need these children to teach us how to live. And love.

At the presidential debate on 10/13/2012, President Obama stated, "The first role of the federal government is to keep the American people safe. That's its most basic function." An elementary school in a peaceful New England town becomes a combat zone, and Americans are stunningly reminded that death can be perpetrated by a terrorist overseas - or a troubled young person down the block. No matter how many billions of dollars spent, our government cannot always keep us safe.

Thus the horrific slaughter of innocents in Newtown shames us into altering a culture of violence that sees 30,000 Americans killed by firearms each year. Our arguments about politics, taxes, and religion shift to arguments about gun laws, mental illness, violent media influences, and school safety. Talking heads bait and bluster as the rest of us - hugging our kids tighter and removing Call of Duty and The Dark Knight Rises from our DVD players -  look to legislators, law enforcement, mental health specialists, and entertainment big-wigs to lead us out of this national nightmare.

We ought to be looking to our children. We ought to pay attention to elementary school classrooms.

Four, five and six year olds trust each other. Look out for one another. Speak honestly. Follow rules. Learn to compromise. They raise their hands and wait their turn. Joining hands, they walk and work together.

Kindergarteners rarely judge or stereotype classmates. They don't see Loner, Queen Bee, or Overachiever in the classroom. They see friends. Pals who will help build a Lego tower. Trade fruit snacks. Fingerpaint. Dance.

First graders don't always listen. They argue, tease, push, cut in line, hurt each others' feelings, and take each others' things. But they forgive and forget instantaneously. 

Best of all, elementary school kids live in the moment. They don't get consumed or motivated by sadness, grief or anger. They cry, ask questions, wait for a hug, then run off to play with the dog and swing with their neighbor.

Children live, learn, and love with abandon. How much we grown-ups can, must learn from them. If only we'd pay attention.

Last Friday morning, retired psychologist Gene Rosen discovered a group of children crying at the end of his driveway in Newtown. They had just escaped from the classroom where their teacher and fellow students were killed. Rosen hopes Americans will learn from the children who lived through the horror of that morning. "I want these children's goodness, their absolute goodness, to point us in the right direction,” he says.

It's elementary, dear Reader. As funerals for the fallen in Newtown end and a troubling but critical national discourse begins, we must remember the faces, eyes, and smiles - the photographs, stories, and character - of twenty children at Sandy Hook Elementary who never lived long enough to become jaded, judgmental, dismissive, or hopeless. 

As we consider sacrifices to our individual freedoms that must be made in order to protect our children and communities, we must remember the individuals - teachers, educators, aides and administrators at Sandy Hook Elementary who sacrificed their lives to care for and protect their beloved students. 

December 14, 2012. A stunning act of violence shattered countless families, and left a small town and a nation reeling. Grief has shelved our holiday spirit. Yet even as we mourn, we must dry our tears and see that light has already transcended the darkness. 

The absolute goodness of the Angels of Newtown, many not yet laid to rest, has inspired random acts of kindness in villages and cities all over the world. It has brought civility to Capitol Hill. In this blessed season of miracles, the Angels of Newton have appealed to the finest instincts of our collective human spirit, assuring us that the better angels of our nature will always prevail. 

No doubt these angels will also lead us through the difficult days and challenges to come.

I can see them, hear them now, reminding us to rejoice as only children rejoice. Plug in the colorful lights! Hang the stockings! Rip open the wrappings! Give and receive! Sing! Bake! Shed a tear, share a hug, go out and play!

In the final weeks of this sacred season, and well into the New Year, let us pause long enough to listen and learn from the Angels of Newtown, and all our little children. 

They are inspiring us to love with abandon, and believe once again in the goodness of humanity.

Miracle of miracles, these beautiful, beloved children are leading us to peace.

QUING Hereby Decrees:  Little children will lead. Follow.