All through grade school, my best friend was Betty. She and I were the greatest of friends. I looked forward to going to school and seeing her each day and have very fond memories of playing with her at recess and sitting next to her in class as there were several years in a row we were in the same classroom.
I can remember the first time I was able to go to her house for a play date. My father had driven me to her house, and I was greeted in the gravel drive by Betty and her mother. I liked her house. It was a tall two-story white house on a larger piece of property with trees and a big yard. They had a picket fenced garden off on the side where I could see her father. He stood and waved as Betty ran to me and wrapped her arms around me and we both made yippee sounds as little girls often do when excited. As I walked into Betty’s house, I saw my father walk over to the garden. An avid gardener himself, I am sure they enjoyed a long conversation as they toured Mr. White’s Garden.
Inside, I was treated to a tour of Betty’s home. “This is my kitchen, this is the closet, this is where I put my bookbag “until we arrived in the living room. Betty’s home had a tall stone fireplace with a mantle full of framed family pictures. Betty pointed to the pictures and said, “This is my family.” I stood silently looking at each photo. Betty pointed to each image and identified grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, and cousins, while her mother stood behind us. When she had finished with the introductions of her framed family members, these are the words that came out of my young mouth; “Oh. Is everyone in your family black?”
Betty made this sound like “gah” mixed in with a little surprised laugh, and answered, “Yes. Of course, they are.” At the same time, I felt Betty’s mother put her hand on top of my head and pet me softly while saying “Lord, child.” And she moved into the kitchen where I heard her laugh. I really did not understand their reaction, because, when I looked at my family photos, I saw different colors of hair, and different shades of skin, and I just didn’t understand why Betty’s family didn’t look like that. The moment moved on, and Betty grabbed me and took me to her bedroom where we played for hours.
That memory has come to visit me often over the years. It represents where my understanding of the world connected with someone else’s understanding of the world and created an opportunity for expanded perspective. This is one of the beautiful things about classrooms. They provide a playground for learning about the world around us. Not only through academic reading or lesson plans, but through the individual lives of the classroom community.
Betty and I shared a strong friendship through our elementary years that included many happy memories. When we began junior high, we were introduced to a much larger school population, as the school was fed by multiple elementary schools, and instantly our learning environment quadrupled in size. This new pool of individual lives provided new connections and unfortunately, triggered the drifting of our friendship. I can vividly remember the day when I asked Betty why she didn’t seem to have time for me anymore, and how hard it was to hear her say she wanted to spend time with her new friends- because they were more like her. “You know,” she said softly, “they are black.”
I cried that night at home. I didn’t want red hair and freckles anymore. I wanted to be black. Because then I would have my friend back.
Time passed, and we all went on to live out our lives. About twenty years later, I was leaving a restaurant, when I met the gaze of a woman sitting at a table. Simultaneously, we called out each other’s names, “Betty!” “Ronda!” She stood and we embraced. In that instant, I was back on the gravel drive being welcomed by my friend. We did a few courtesies and how are you’s, when she pointed to the other guest at her table, and said, “Do you know who this is?”
“Oh” I said all happy and friendly, in a little high-pitched tone, “Is this your daughter?”
Now, that would have been a terrific question if indeed, that was her daughter. It was not.
Betty looked at me so fast and said, “What?!? No! That’s Cookie!”
I whipped my head back around to really focus on the face of the seated individual and found her smiling and laughing almost uncontrollably.
Let me clue you in on who Cookie is. We all went to high school together. She was our age. Not the age of someone who could be misidentified as a daughter.
Yep. This is my real life.
I began to profusely apologize and explain I should really be wearing my glasses, but I didn’t like them. I was still getting used to them. (Cookie was still laughing and Betty was still not entirely pleased with me.) Truth. But somehow way below any acceptable excuse. I really couldn’t see in any detail who the other person was. But I knew Betty. I could recognize her in an instant.
I’ve never had a conversation wrap up so quickly. I could hear Cookie laughing at the table as I was leaving.
I met up with my group who were waiting outside for me, reached into my purse, and put on the glasses that had just recently become a part of my life. Yes. Perhaps we might want to get into focus.
As educators we do need to recognize the lasting impact of the social lives of our students. The friendships and bonds our students make, and experience can last well into adulthood, and live long in our memories. The friendships our students are making are real, and the social lives of our students do have an impact on the classroom community. These bonds contribute to the overall tone and atmosphere within the classroom community. Positive and productive friendships among students can create a supportive and uplifting environment where everyone feels valued and respected. Conversely, negative, or toxic relationships can disrupt the harmony of the classroom and hinder students’ ability to thrive academically and emotionally. By fostering positivity, encouraging healthy relationships, and promoting a culture of inclusivity and kindness, educators can cultivate a classroom environment where students feel empowered to build meaningful connections and contribute positively to the collective learning experience.
Betty and I had a terrific friendship in elementary school, and it supported my positive outlook on going to school, and participating. I had a friend waiting for me at school. And while I didn’t want to hear she needed new relationships to grow and evolve, I did accept it. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I did accept it.
By the way… Betty forgave me about the whole “Is this your daughter?” thing. It took a bit, but she did. That’s what friends do. That’s what old friends do.