Family stories define our social group. We tell them over and over again at family gatherings, and each time they are related, we relive the experiences. No one would think of saying, "I heard that story before." We listen as though it were new to us, and those who were not yet born when the event of the story originally occurred incorporate the stories into their lives as much as the rest of us who were present.
The following story is not a family story; it is a teaching story. It is one that I have told many times to teachers and to some members of the family who are teachers, so I will ask that you once again suspend belief that you have heard this story before and read it as though you are hearing it for the first time.
The most profound lesson I have ever been priviledged to witness occurred in my classroom fifteen years ago. I had come across the lesson plan in a book titled Nobody Don't Love Nobody, a book by a young teacher who taught homeless children in New York. I read the lesson and knew I would have to try it, even though I had many doubts about how the lesson would turn out. Would my students be able to handle the situation I was going to put them in? Would anyone be hurt by the experience? I convinced myself that even if it did not work the way I had hoped, I would be able to make it work by addressing the things that caused problems.
On the day of the lesson, I asked my students to sit with me in a large circle on the floor. I told them we were going to have a snack, but that they should not touch anything I placed in front of them until I told them it was time to eat. In front of each student I placed a paper plate. Smiles of anticipation began to appear on their faces. Then I got out my carefully counted bag of twenty sandwich cookies and began to distribute them to my twenty-four students. The distribution was not simply one per plate, with four plates having none. I put two in some plates, three in others, four or five in a few. There were many students who had no cookies. Smiles disappeared and the beginnings of outrage began to appear. "Where are my cookies?" "You forgot to give me a cookie!" "This is not fair!"
I calmly went to my place in the circle and waited for the grumbling to stop. I observed the children's faces and saw what I had expected: grins on the faces of those with cookies, pouts on the faces of those without. Then I said the magic words: When everyone has enough, we will eat. Does everyone have enough? There was silence for a moment, then one and another of those without cookies said, "No, we don't have enough." My only response was When everyone has enough, we will eat. I waited. The children's eyes darted around the circle, not really understanding why I was behaving so strangely. I continued to wait. Then one little boy took a cookie from his plate and gave it to a child without a cookie. I smiled.
More cookies moved from plates with to plates without. Each time the children thought they had done enough giving, I would repeat When everyone has enough, we will eat. Does everyone have enough? They continued to move the cookies until twenty students had one cookie, but four did not. It was here that the lesson got critical (and why you will understand the reason for buying sandwich cookies). The students looked at me with questioning faces: What now? We've given away all of our extra cookies. My only response, once again, was When everyone has enough, we will eat. Then the same child who had begun the giving took his cookie, broke it in half, and gave it to a child with no cookie. It was here that I could feel tears welling. Then another child broke a cookie, until everyone had either a whole cookie or a part of a cookie. I then asked Does everyone have enough? Each child looked at their plates. There was only a moment of hesitation, then everyone said, "Yes." Then I specifically asked each child with less than a cookie whether or not they had enough. Some said, "I don't have as much as _____, but I have enough." Others simply said, "Yes, I have enough."
Then I said, "Now we can eat." The children took their time to eat. They knew they had only this one cookie, or part of a cookie, for a snack. They nibbled on their cookies, talked to one another, laughed about the experience, and at the end, one child said, "This is the best cookie I ever ate!"
The stories that stay with us are there for a reason. This is a story I revisit often. It is a story of a classroom, but it is also a story of a family that developed within that classroom. It is a story about the importance of sharing, and it is the story of a meal made more bountiful and fulfilling by taking care that all are fed before we take a bite.
