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THE ROOTS OF EMPATHY CLASSROOM: MY TEACHER IS A BABY

Leah Teaches Class

WHILE WAITING for the children to return from play time, Sharon, the Roots of Empathy instructor, is prep a ring the empty classroom for the expected baby visit. She opens a large tote bag and unfolds a bright green blanket. “This blanket defines the baby’s space,” she will explain. “The children will sit around it so they can all see the baby.” She is careful to arrange it in the middle of the open space so that everyone will have enough room.

I introduced the idea of the blanket for several reasons: to create a germ- barrier between the students and the babies to reassure the nervous, first-time parents; to create a stage where all of the students can see the performance of life, the drama of growth and the miracle of attachment taking place; and to have a physical reminder for the younger children not to crawl over or run over and touch the baby impulsively. We set the children up for success when we establish rules and make it as easy as possible for them to comply. The blanket helps us do that.

Sharon takes one final glance in her bag at the toys she has selected to use during the lesson. The teacher arrives, and her students are not far behind. The toys, too, have been specially chosen for Roots of Empathy to be tools in demonstrating the baby’s development, achievements and temperament. The baby plays differently with the toys during each visit and the children are able to observe the new skills he has developed. In fact, they chronicle the baby’s development in many domains, they learn the baby’s unique temperament, and notice the baby’s feelings—is he frustrated? surprised? interested? determined?

Today’s class is a kindergarten class, with all the energy and laughter you’d expect from a group of five-year-olds who have just been outside playing. They arrange themselves around the blanket, wriggling into their front-and-centre positions.

This is the age group where Roots of Empathy started. My idea was to begin with the youngest children and focus on developing a literacy of feelings that would help them navigate the rough waters of childhood. I believed that the pain and difficulty of not knowing how to identify or manage their emotions could be prevented if they had the tools for a rich social and emotional life, which they could use not just to build individual relationships but to take responsibility for creating a peaceful and compassionate classroom. I felt strongly that this was best launched at the earliest possible age. Before the age of two, children are already becoming aware of their own unique selves and of their emotions.¹ So it made a lot of sense to introduce the first program to a kindergarten class.

When six-month-old Leah and her mother appear in the doorway, there are murmurs of excitement around the room. “Let’s sing our welcoming song,” says Sharon, and leads them in singing.

As Leah’s mother lifts her daughter out of the infant seat, all the children stand up and wait eagerly for Leah and her mother to walk around the circle. Each child smiles or says “Hi, Leah” or gently touches her foot in greeting. When Leah’s mother puts her on the green blanket in a sitting position, the children gasp, “She’s sitting, she’s sitting.” In their excitement they edge forward, calling Leah’s name and waving to her. Malik points out: “Her mommy had to help her before and now she’s sitting all by herself.” Sharon tells the group, “This is called a milestone. Leah can do something she wasn’t able to do before.”

Then Sharon asks: “What do you think this means for Leah? What will be different in her life now that she can sit up?” There is a chorus of answers:

“She can see us better.”

“She can point.”

“She can reach for things.”

“She can throw the ball to us now.”

“She can hold an ice-cream.”

Leah beams back at the smiling faces around her.

“Can she crawl yet?” asks a student.

“She’s getting close to crawling,” Leah’s mother replies.

Sharon invites Leah’s mom to lay Leah on her stomach. She wants the children to see for themselves. Other than waving her arms and kicking her feet, Leah can’t move. “Her tummy is glued,” says Tamara.

When Leah rolls over, the entire group buzzes with excitement. “She did that before. That was a milestone too, wasn’t it?” says Jack.

When Leah begins to show distress, Sharon asks the class, “What is Leah telling us?’

There are several responses: “She wants her mommy.” “She’s mad.” “She’s tired.” “She’s frustrated.”

“So what should we do?” asks Sharon.

“Give her to her mommy,” the class says in unison.

Sharon has written a list on a flip chart showing some “baby milestones” such as crawling, sitting, walking. As Leah cuddles into her mommy’s shoulder, Sharon reads them out and asks the children which of these things Leah can do now. They respond with a loud “Yes” to rolling over and sitting. When asked about crawling and walking, they say, in unison, “Not yet.” For children this “not yet” is a very comforting reminder that they will eventually reach their own milestones. They may not be able to read a whole book yet but they can sound out a lot of words and that big milestone will come just as surely as Leah will learn to walk.

Sharon asks the class about how to keep Leah safe now that she can roll over and sit up. One child has a story to tell. When her mother was a baby, her grandmother left her for just a second on the change table, and the baby rolled right off onto the floor. The children nod in agreement when Sharon says babies shouldn’t be left alone on a change table. Several children talk about how Leah can reach out and pull things down like a tablecloth, now that she can sit. There are lots of suggestions about the dangerous things that could be sitting on that tablecloth.

Leah’s mother contributes, “When I leave her alone in a room, I put her in the playpen. And I’m getting safety gates for the stairways.” She adds that she replaces Leah’s pacifier every two or three months, because the rubber can wear out and become a choking hazard.

Leah begins to babble and the children laugh at the sounds she makes. When Sharon tries to get Leah’s attention with a foot rattle, Leah rolls away from her and smiles at some of the children nearby. Sharon says, “I guess she’s more interested in Reuben than the rattle!” The little boy sitting beside Reuben says, “No, she was smiling at me!” Reuben insists, “No, me!” Leah watches entranced as they argue good-naturedly for a minute, then Reuben concludes: “Okay, both of us.” Sharon asks them how it feels when Leah smiles at them.

“Very happy. Smiley inside,” they reply.

Sharon asks Leah’s mother’s permission to play “This Little Piggy” with Leah. When her mother agrees, she begins the song “This Little Piggy Went to Market.” But after just two lines, Leah pulls her hand out of Sharon’s hand and rolls over, closer to the children. She smiles up at them again. “What’s Leah telling me now?” asks Sharon. “She doesn’t want you to do ‘Little Piggy,’” offers one child. “She wants to play with us,” says another. They are adept at reading the baby’s cues.

Gently, Sharon rolls Leah back into position and repeats the song “This Little Piggy” while holding each of Leah’s fingers in turn. As she finishes, Leah pulls her hand away and begins to fuss. Her mother quickly picks her up, and Sharon comments: “Leah didn’t like the piggy game but she’s happy with her mommy.” Sharon coaches the children through the social and emotional cues Leah used to solve her situation. “How did Leah tell her mommy that she needed her?”

“With her voice—she got whiny.”

“What else did Leah do—what did she do with her hands?”

“She pulled her hands away from you.”

“What about Leah’s face? What did you see there?”

“She looked right at her Mommy with a grumpy face.”