I've been wanting to blog for some time now, but was putting it off for apparently no reason.A few days ago I happened to get this particular forward "The I can't funeral" which is quite nice in the fact that it does make you think about the "I cant's" in your life for atleast a few seconds. Now I had to do something ("I can, I will, I am going to right away") which I was putting off for some time and presto! you are reading this.
Maybe you to will do something....
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The I Can't Funeral
Donna's fourth grade classroom looked like many 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
students' 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 or
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 this part of the 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".
