The Valentine's Cards

My public apologies to Angel and Giovanni’s reading and math teachers. We didn’t do any homework last night. We didn’t even get the three-ring binders out of their backpacks. Although some of you may disagree, I think we did something more important. We assembled Valentine’s Day cards for their fellow fourth graders and advisors.

Fourth grade is an interesting year for Valentine’s Day talk. Children at this age are in the developmental stage between platonic love for friends and emerging love for potential romantic partners. To exemplify the struggles that characterize this “in the middle” stage, a couple weeks ago, many fourth graders had a strong, aversive reaction to a kissing scene in the movie Wonder. My fellow SEL teaching comrade and I shared a smile during their dramatic attempts to shield their still-very-young eyes from the brief, awkward, first-kiss scene between two teenagers on screen. Later Angel told me that he really enjoyed the movie, but not the kissing scene. I quoted Peter Falk’s line from The Princess Bride – “Someday you may not mind so much.”

Angel chose sports-themed cards with accompanying stickers and Giovanni chose cards with perforated pieces that form a small, paper dragon. Each had his own work station at our kitchen table. I sat in the middle and helped put the corners of Angel’s sports stickers in the (ridiculously small) slits in the card. We talked about their friends as Angel identified which card he hoped various people receive because some enjoy baseball, others are soccer fans, and others share his allegiance to basketball. I noted that a couple of the buddies he rattled off are new to the school this year and I hadn’t been aware that he knew them well enough to know their preferences.

Giovanni held up a red dragon card and said he hoped a specific friend received that card because “red is his favorite color too.” [The teachers requested that the cards are not addressed to specific recipients.] He wrote “red” on the back of the card so that he could put that in his friend’s bag. I asked Giovanni if he wanted any help and he said, “No, I got this, Mom. I want to do it myself.” I appreciated his independence and, more importantly, his wanting to take ownership of the project.

Angel’s cards were finished first. He cleaned up his trash, put his signed cards in his backpack and moved on to something else. Giovanni was still working on signing, getting the cards in the envelopes, closing the envelopes, and stacking the “ready to go” cards in a pile when I found the 28 heart stickers that accompanied the dragon cards. I showed him.

I expected frustration, maybe even anger. The project was dragging into almost an hour and he had been working diligently on it. His response? “I wondered where those were. They’re supposed to be the dragons’ hearts.” I offered some options. He could keep the stickers himself and create his own project. He could put them on the envelopes. He vetoed those options and told me he had a better idea. He then went through each envelope to figure out if it was a red, green or orange dragon and carefully pushed the corresponding sticker through the gap between where he licked the envelope and where it wasn’t completely sealed.

I watched this process play out for a couple of cards and debated what to do. I had a list of things that needed to get done before bed and an online meeting that started at 8:00. It wasn’t the night for time inefficiency. Should I start a load of laundry and then return to sit next to him? Should I take our dog on a quick walk around the block?

Then I thought of a dear friend whose 19-year-old daughter died unexpectedly two weeks ago.  And I remembered how lucky I was to have this opportunity to sit beside my nine-year-old boy with his beautiful heart as he finished his Valentine’s cards for his friends. I did what I know my friend would have begged me to do if she were faced with my situation. I stayed in my chair, offered silent support, and smiled at him. As I watched him complete his cards, I found myself enjoying every aspect of that experience we shared. After the last card was put in the bag he will take to school on Friday, I gave him a big hug and told him how proud I am to be his mom and how much I love him.

Love takes a lot of forms. Sometimes it arrives with beautiful words that we need to hear. Sometimes it shows itself via action and where we choose to invest our attention. Other times it involves turning off our own internal soundtrack and listening to someone else’s. Sometimes the challenging part about love is recognizing it because it masquerades as other things that look like constructive feedback or redirection.

I saw an interview with Toni Morrison once. She discussed that when children enter a room, what they desire is to see the adults’ faces light up. This delight in their presence demonstrates our appreciation for the people they are. We, however, are prone to seeing what needs to be corrected (e.g. dirty hands, stained shirts, untied shoelaces). We think that we demonstrate love by taking care of them and encouraging them to develop into their potential. But, as Ms. Morrison went on to say, what we fail to appreciate is that they consume our criticism and miss the love behind our redirection.

Her insight and wisdom are good reminders for all of us who are parenting or teaching children. Loving them is seeing beyond what needs to be fixed and honoring who they are, as they are, right now.  And this acceptance-based love isn’t limited to the children in our lives. We need to look beyond our self-improvement projects and learn to love ourselves the way our children love us – wholeheartedly and without condition.

My friends, may we celebrate love this week and every week. May we love these beautiful children with our words, with our actions, and with our attention. As we’re helping them develop into their potential, may we show them our love for who they are, as they are, right now…Jennifer

For Aimee