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.