i told a story to a 1st grader about a girl whose heart was shattered. every time the girl’s peers denied her a seat on the carpet, cursed her with mean words, or refused their help, i ripped a piece of her pink construction paper heart and let it fall onto the floor. each rip, widen the girl’s mouth. shocked. alarmed. and disturbed. “think about some of your actions and word choices with peers that is hurtful. then, openly share.” i requested. each example she gave, forced me to tear more and more, until i was only left with a tiny piece. “how do we mend a broken heart?” i questioned as my eyes traced bits and pieces of the heart on my office floor. one by one, she collected pieces and shared consoling words in hopes of repairing the damaged that was done. but it had wrinkles, jagged edges and open spaces–the heart didn’t look quite the same. the actions of others left scars on her heart forever. the 1st grader wrote a note under the damaged heart, “always be kind to others” to end this love story.
[These are my open notes that I’ve hidden from the world. Over the next month, I am making them public until my birthday on April 14th.]