I grew up with working parents,
and their schedules didn’t always align-
so my brother and I would spend
afternoons and summer days
at my grandparents’ house.
This was a place where we were sure to put
things back where we found them
and learned not to leave things
out on the floor.
Not because my grandparents were strict.
But, you see, my grandmother, Josie,
was blind.
She knew where items were kept,
and the pattern of where furniture
was placed in the house.
If we messed with that order it could
cause frustration, confusion,
or even physical harm.
I remember as a kid trying to understand
what it was like to navigate spaces
without my sense of sight.
I would close my eyes real tight,
trying to remember the way that my
grandparents’ living room looked–
as I timidly walked with my hands
outstretched in front of me–
I ran into a chair, then a lamp,
then the wall.
It was in that moment that
I was in awe of her.
On the occasion that we would be spending
our entire day with our grandparents,
we would bring our VHS tapes over to
their house,
you know pre-DVD or streaming services.
Many, if not all, of those tapes were
from Disney movies–
because we were American children
of the late 80s early 90s.
We would sit on the carpet staring up
at the large TV
housed in an even larger
entertainment center.
In between preparing meals,
my grandmother would walk in and sit down
in her recliner to join us.
She would say “tell me about your stories”
referencing the action taking place
on the screen.
The movie Aladdin was one of our favorites
to enjoy together.
I would explain the desert backgrounds,
the clothing on the characters,
the expressions on their faces.
I can recall her smile as I described a
“whole new world”
and a magic carpet ride
through the clouds.
I wanted her to feel included,
to be a part of what we were watching.
These actions of inclusion were a
response to my feelings of empathy.
I had a unique childhood where I was
learning about empathy
through my relationship with my
grandmother…
through our watching of Disney movies.
Looking back, these experiences have
forged who I am as a person
and the way that I navigate relationships.
But not everyone has had an experience
like that.
I believe it is important and crucial
that we provide opportunities for our
children to experience relationships
that foster empathetic connections.
Now as a quick aside, I know that the word
empathy comes with its own baggage.
Maybe it is a word that in your circles
has been thrown around with such carelessness
that you are sick of the word,
or perhaps it has even lost its meaning
altogether.
Or, perhaps you have heard it said that
empathy is a “soft skill”
that needs to be shared with our children.
I attest there is nothing “soft” or mooshy
about it,
but yet it is an important and essential
skill to be honed
as we learn what it means to be human.
As an elementary art educator
I teach about artists, cultures,
and the purposeful use of art materials.
But I also see it as my role to educate my
students about character education,
and specifically empathy.
But how do we often define empathy?
I am sure you have even used the age-old,
well…
“Walk in someone else’s shoes.”
Sure that works as a metaphor,
but now I want you to put yourself in the
mind of a kindergartner.
A kindergartner that might ask,
“wait.. Why am I putting on someone else’s
hoes!?”
That is weird to them,
they don’t understand the language we are
using in our discussions
of this important topic.
And even a simplified definition such as
“understanding and sharing the feelings of
others”
is pretty hard to internalize
as a 5 year old.
So intentional discussions about
practical, observable behavior is needed.
How do I show empathy in a classroom,
with my neighbors at the park,
to my grandmother,
with someone that looks
differently than me,
someone that acts differently than me…?
A year ago, I was discussing character
education with my colleagues at school.
We were working on developing a new
school-wide curriculum,
and we went round and round
about definitions and explanations.
One summer night, it hit those of us
in the room–
the root of empathy lies in awareness.
Awareness: “noticing what is happening in
and around you
so that you can make a choice.”
This noticing can lead to taking an
action, having an empathetic response.
But we first need to start by having an
awareness of ourselves.
I am the grocery shopper in my family,
I take my list and enjoy the thrill of the
hunt as I try and stay below budget.
One week I was informed we needed new
napkins.
And I happened upon these
illustrated beauties.
They were conversational napkins
for the family.
We got a real kick out of the answers
as we went around the table.
But they made me think more intentionally
about a teachable moment
I could have with my own family.
Can we identify our own feelings?
It is pretty easy to say I am happy,
or I am sad.
But can we identify our feelings and then
we explain why we feel that way?
With my five-year old I have gotten into
the practice of asking her at dinner
to tell me about her day in this way:
I say “Tell me about a part of your day
where you were proud.
Tell me about a part of your day
that you were frustrated.
Tell me about a part of your day
when you felt excited.”
On different nights I may come up with a
different feeling, a different emotion.
Of course I am sure to share with her
my own feelings about the day as well.
I too, as the adult, had moments where I
felt scared, or nervous, or really excited.
She is quick, man she is quick.
Sometimes she will answer with “I didn’t
feel sad,
but my friend Ellie was sad when she
didn’t get a chance to play with the magnatiles.”
See without even direct questioning,
she refers to her friend
and their feelings.
These observed behaviors and feelings have
become part of her existence as a friend.
Which has brought us to…
an awareness of others.
I had been teaching a unit on architecture
to my fourth grade students
when Hurricane Harvey hit Houston.
I had several fourth graders come to class
asking lots of questions
about the natural disaster and its effects
on the buildings there.
They had an awareness of the news and even
if they didn’t fully understand current events,
they had some notion that what was
happening was not good.
We talked about living in Houston through
this hurricane
and how it would affect the lives of the
people there.
But it was when we started to discuss
the art rooms of the students in Houston,
that it began to resonate
with the entire class.
We were sitting in our art room,
talking about an art room on the other
side of the country.
They were able to see themselves
in the room with these other students.
I sat back and listened as they processed
what would happen to art supplies
and furniture that had been affected
by the elements.
From these powerful conversations I wanted
to provide my students with an opportunity
to artistically respond to the
discussions we had been having.
So, during class I shared the work of
two artists
with polka dot covered items, rooms,
and even actual houses.
And from these explorations we built this
5 foot tall house (polka dot house).
But there is more here than just
playful polka dots–
each of the dots represents an art supply
that a fourth grade student donated
to a school in Houston.
Through their art-making,
my students were able to make a connection
with students on the other
side of the country.
Notice they didn’t collect and donate food
or health supplies–
but art supplies.
It had become personal for them.
Our art room is seen as a safe place where
they are encouraged to express themselves,
be challenged, learn about the world–
all while having fun.
The fact that students in Houston would be
missing out on these opportunities
really resonated with.
This is an example of how that sense of
awareness, a noticing,
led to actions of practical practice...
actions of empathy.
I believe that by engaging in
relationships with others
we are able to step outside of ourselves
and make a positive impact for others.
I no longer watch Disney movies
sitting on the floor in front of my
grandmother Josie,
those days are long gone.
Now, I sit on the floor next to my
5 year old daughter, named Josie.
We watch as Aladdin and Jasmine take
flight on the magic carpet.
There is a moment when the carpet
takes a deep dive
and Princess Jasmine braces
herself by covering her eyes in fear.
As she does so on the screen,
so does my daughter.
She is empathetic for this animated
princess,
experiencing fear along with her.
It’s then that Aladdin responds
to Jasmine saying
“Don’t you dare close your eyes” and pulls
her hands from her face,
to open her eyes to the experiences
around her.
And as he does so, I too pull my
daughter’s fingers from her eyes.
May we open our children’s eyes to the
world around them
to engage them in thoughts, actions, and
relationships
that get them to not only “walk in someone
else’s shoes”
but to live lives that consider others
more than themselves.