Commas and Kindness

The setting: Room A9, a still dim, full-moon Friday. The day before spring break. Virus-mangled teachers limp through the hallways wearing celebratory plastic leis. Not exempt, the principal wheezes through the announcements. Gossip flies through the air like pollen. No one is safe.

The assignment: Using a comma with a direct address, write one nice thing about the person whose paper you have received. (example: Jeremy, your story was wonderful!) Then, crumple the paper, and throw it on the floor. Pick up a new paper and repeat.

The fears: Students might complain. Students might pick up a paper and reject it, leaving someone with no compliments. Students might anonymously write something mean. After a year of typing, I might be unable to identify the handwriting. Students might be too loud, disrupting the brave teacher giving a test next door. Students might have nothing nice to say.

The reality: Paper balls ping through the air, bouncing off desks, heads, walls. Students are (adorably) upset when some of them hit me, as if I've been attacked. A miracle: everyone is engaged. Everyone is kind. Everyone is using commas! The sun is rising.

The drama: Someone has written that they like Cindy's Vans because they are small. Susie is upset. She thinks Cindy will be offended.

The resolution: Cindy is not offended. She is aware she is small (and her shoes are awesome).

The drama: Someone has called Alex's hair style "original." Alex is offended. She is pretty sure this is mean.

The resolution: Alex doesn't know what original means. Now that she knows, she whips her hair around, showing it off like the star of a shampoo commercial.

The end: In the most literal sense, we threw kindness like confetti today. Some students threw their papers away. Others tucked them into their books, careful not to be seen doing it, as if sentimentality were embarrassing. Later, I catch a few pinning them up in their lockers for a rainy day. Spring break is beginning, and life is good.