White Out, Construction Paper, and Other Things That Don't Jive
Today, whilst my kiddos were busy learning math lessons about adding, subtracting, and planning out a Thanksgiving meal (on a budget!) from weekly Publix ads / Winn Dixie ads, I was busy learning a little life lesson myself.
It all started earlier in the morning when the students were given an assignment to make an acrostic poem about another person in the classroom. Included with the acrostic poem was an illustration of the chosen person's talents, hobbies, likes, dislikes, etc. Oh, and did I mention? It was all to be done on colored construction paper. Why? More professional. Less room for error. Right?
Wrong.
Shortly after the students started on their acrostic-buddy poems, a student came to my desk and asked to borrow my white out. It happens all the time in fourth-grade classes worldwide. (Ok, maybe not. Maybe it's just my students that have a growing fascination with white out. My current class, and all the girls who shared the same 6th grade classroom with me at TCA in 1996. For some reason, we all used white out as nail polish. (?) ) Nevertheless, I handed the white out over to my student. With no questions asked.
Then, around math time (much later in the day), it hit me. I finally figured out why my student needed the white out. Girlfriend used the white out to "fix" something on her acrostic poem, which was written on COLORED construction paper.
Do you see where I'm going with this? The white out that (by its very invention and purpose) was designed to cover up a mistake actually ended up making no sense at all. Why? Because construction paper and white out simply don't "jive." They simply don't make sense together. I don't think the makers of white out and the inventors of construction paper ever gathered together in a board room to discuss how to combat their "irreconcilable differences." (Perhaps, they should?) It just is what it is. No questions asked.
With the white out scenario in my classroom, questions should have been asked.
A new sheet of construction paper could have been given.
A fresh start would have been welcomed (and cherished?).
But questions weren't asked. New opportunities weren't given. It just is what it is.
"So, what life lesson did you learn exactly in all this?"
I'm glad you asked.
First of all, I learned that a child's perspective on "art" and my perfectionistic tendencies produce very different outcomes for presentations.
Second of all, I was reminded today about those things in our lives that just don't make sense.
And the fact that when things don't exactly "jive," questions should be raised.
Perhaps, a new approach should be tried, and/or second chances should be given out.
When things don't make sense on the surface, there's always an underlying reason.
Every question doesn't always come with a pre-packaged answer.
Pray anyway.
New approaches don't always yield successful results.
Be hopeful anyway.
Second chances aren't magic erasers to the past or guarantees for a different future.
Be gracious anyway.
When things simply don't make sense in your life, remember that white out isn't packaged and sold with construction paper.
There's a reason for both.
It all started earlier in the morning when the students were given an assignment to make an acrostic poem about another person in the classroom. Included with the acrostic poem was an illustration of the chosen person's talents, hobbies, likes, dislikes, etc. Oh, and did I mention? It was all to be done on colored construction paper. Why? More professional. Less room for error. Right?
Wrong.
Shortly after the students started on their acrostic-buddy poems, a student came to my desk and asked to borrow my white out. It happens all the time in fourth-grade classes worldwide. (Ok, maybe not. Maybe it's just my students that have a growing fascination with white out. My current class, and all the girls who shared the same 6th grade classroom with me at TCA in 1996. For some reason, we all used white out as nail polish. (?) ) Nevertheless, I handed the white out over to my student. With no questions asked.
Then, around math time (much later in the day), it hit me. I finally figured out why my student needed the white out. Girlfriend used the white out to "fix" something on her acrostic poem, which was written on COLORED construction paper.
Do you see where I'm going with this? The white out that (by its very invention and purpose) was designed to cover up a mistake actually ended up making no sense at all. Why? Because construction paper and white out simply don't "jive." They simply don't make sense together. I don't think the makers of white out and the inventors of construction paper ever gathered together in a board room to discuss how to combat their "irreconcilable differences." (Perhaps, they should?) It just is what it is. No questions asked.
With the white out scenario in my classroom, questions should have been asked.
A new sheet of construction paper could have been given.
A fresh start would have been welcomed (and cherished?).
But questions weren't asked. New opportunities weren't given. It just is what it is.
"So, what life lesson did you learn exactly in all this?"
I'm glad you asked.
First of all, I learned that a child's perspective on "art" and my perfectionistic tendencies produce very different outcomes for presentations.
Second of all, I was reminded today about those things in our lives that just don't make sense.
And the fact that when things don't exactly "jive," questions should be raised.
Perhaps, a new approach should be tried, and/or second chances should be given out.
When things don't make sense on the surface, there's always an underlying reason.
Every question doesn't always come with a pre-packaged answer.
Pray anyway.
New approaches don't always yield successful results.
Be hopeful anyway.
Second chances aren't magic erasers to the past or guarantees for a different future.
Be gracious anyway.
When things simply don't make sense in your life, remember that white out isn't packaged and sold with construction paper.
There's a reason for both.
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