If you don’t want to read about Copper Valley public school students, put this issue on the floor and let the puppy pee on it—because about six days ago I succumbed to an avalanche of news about awards and activities from the schools.
Even the big state legislative news (education bill) and a national event (the meat recall) are touching our school district directly. When a theme arrives and tackles you, you go with it.
Most of the school news in this issue is local. This issue is about great kids, and if you read between the lines there’s a clue or two about how they got that way.
At the basketball game on Saturday, we listened to players’ lists of people who had supported each of them—parents or grandparents, siblings, friends. I had not expected the last Glennallen home game to pack such a punch of emotion, but as the “best supporters” of those students came forward, so did my memories of backside-numbing sessions on bleacher seats with other parents and neighbors, way back when our kids were Little Dribblers. Remember, Glenda? And then why did we have Little Dribblers at all, except for all those volunteer coaches and organizers who thought our little kids were worth it?
A few years ago I was insane enough to take a year-long stint as a mental health educator, working in Kuskokwim and middle-Yukon schools out west. Truly, I didn’t have much to offer except an enthusiasm for getting children to play fiddles and guitars and a willing ear if any kid wanted to talk.
I learned so much more from the students than they learned from me. Once in a while I get a message from a student of that year who caught the music bug and is still playing an instrument—and that is a very sweet thing for me to know.
Mostly, I found out that hopelessness and hope come in the same packages and are entwined. I learned that I could seldom tell which amazingly resilient kid going through hell was going to come out the other side and be all right. But I learned that those who came through okay were those who had adults that cared about them.
One way you can tell a kid is going to be all right and in fact has a fighting chance of being a capable adult who is smarter and nicer than you are—is by asking the kid to make a list of the people who really want the best for him or her.
Scumbags don’t make it onto that list. Parents usually do, but not always. The sibling who protected the kid against somebody’s fist is on the list, and so is the teacher who took the extra time to encourage or shelter a student. So is the State Trooper who, after his own long work day, would open the school gym and play late-night basketball with teens. The aunt or uncle who listened and loved without judgment would make the list, and so would the friend who had a safe space for a kid to sleep, with house rules that made sense. I saw names of coaches who taught fairness along with how to play the game.
And when kids can make lists like that, they are going to show up in the good news. This little paper is full of them.