Trying Something New in Room 108

This year, I have the opportunity to hang out with some of the best kids on the planet.

In Room 108.

During our first week together, we talked about what we would be doing this year. And for some of them, especially the students who have been here before, it was going to look a little different than what they were used to.

It’s not just art anymore.

We’re going to create art, but we’re also going to explore STEM. We’ll build things. We’ll do science experiments. We’ll solve problems. We’ll work together. We’ll try things that work and probably plenty of things that don’t.

We’re going to try new things.

And I told them that my hope is that by the end of this year, they will have learned something about themselves in the process.

Because sometimes trying something new is scary.

Sometimes it doesn’t sound fun.

Sometimes we look at something and immediately think, I can’t do that.

But sometimes doing something different teaches us something about ourselves that we wouldn’t have learned if we had stayed with what was comfortable.

During that first week, we also talked about what it means to thrive.

We talked about how we grow when we try our best, respect one another, work together, keep going when something is difficult, and listen.

And that last one has become more important to me with every week that passes.

We listen.

Of course, listening means that when I’m giving directions, I expect them to listen. Most of what we do in Room 108 requires quite a few directions. They’re already discovering that those directions aren’t there because someone is trying to be mean or boss them around. They actually help us accomplish what we’re trying to do.

That’s true in Room 108, but it’s also true in life.

Life is full of directions.

Sometimes we’re the ones giving them. Other times, we’re the ones receiving them.

But I’m beginning to realize that listening is about so much more than following directions.

Listening says something to the person who is speaking.

I see you.

What you have to say matters.

Your voice is worth hearing.

And that might be one of the most important things we learn in Room 108 this year.

We aren’t all the same. Thank goodness, because how boring would that be?

We’re wired differently. We think differently. We notice different things. We solve problems differently. We have different ideas.

That means sometimes we have to be willing to listen even when we are absolutely convinced our idea is the right one.

I’ve tried to remind them of that each week.

Listen to the person beside you.

Hear their idea.

Give them a chance to explain what they think should happen.

And week after week, these kids have impressed me.

One week, they created projects out of modeling clay. The next week, they painted them.

When everyone finished, I wanted each child to have an opportunity to show what they had made. Part of my reason was selfish. I’m still learning nearly 500 names, and I need all the help I can get.

But something happened during that time that mattered much more than learning names.

Because of the way our tables are arranged, everyone couldn’t see what everyone else had created. So we went around the room one at a time.

And everyone got a turn.

I reminded them that when their friend was talking, we were going to listen. And when it was their turn to talk, their friends were going to listen to them too.

Did they need reminders?

Absolutely.

It might surprise you that some of my older kiddos needed more reminders than the younger ones.

But they did it.

And it was so neat to watch.

They celebrated one another’s creations. They noticed colors. They got excited when someone had chosen the same color they had. They complimented each other. They laughed together.

And then I noticed something else.

The quiet kids were talking too.

You know the ones.

The child who sometimes doesn’t get a chance to finish a thought because someone else is louder.

The child who might have something wonderful to say but doesn’t fight for the opportunity to say it.

For those few minutes, they didn’t have to.

The room was listening.

They had a chance to speak.

They were heard.

They were seen.

And being seen matters.

Maybe more than we realize.

There are certainly expectations in Room 108. There have to be when hundreds of kids come through that room every week.

But I hope we are learning something much bigger than rules.

I hope they are learning that their voice matters.

I hope they are learning that the person sitting beside them has a voice that matters too.

I hope they learn to speak up when they have something to say, but I also hope they learn when to be quiet long enough for someone else to speak.

Because listening isn’t simply waiting for our turn to talk.

Listening is making room for another person.

And maybe that is something all of us could practice a little more.

And maybe this matters so much to me because, even though it isn’t something spoken about in Room 108, my faith shapes the way I see every child who walks through that door.

I believe every one of them was created intentionally by God.

Before they ever sit down at one of my tables, before they complete a project, follow a direction, solve a problem, or say a single word, they already have value.

They don’t have to be the loudest.

They don’t have to be the smartest.

They don’t have to be the most creative or finish first.

They matter simply because of who they are and Who created them.

And while I may not say those words in our classroom, I hope the way I treat them says it.

I hope they feel seen.

I hope they feel heard.

I hope they know they matter.

We have a lot of weeks left together in Room 108. There will be more art, more STEM challenges, more experiments, more building, more messes, more things that work, and probably quite a few things that don’t.

We’re going to keep trying new things.

But if somewhere along the way a child who usually stays quiet realizes, My voice matters here…

If a child who usually talks first learns to stop and hear someone else…

If a group of kids learns that someone else’s idea might actually make their own idea better…

If even one child walks out of Room 108 feeling a little more seen than when they walked in…

I’ll count that as a win.

Because sometimes the most important thing we can give a child isn’t another opportunity to speak.

It’s showing them that when they do, someone is listening.