How do you teach empathy? - Jonathan Juravich

I grew up with two working parents,

and their schedules didn’t often align–

so my brother and I would spend
afternoons and long summer days

at my grandparents’ house.

This was a place where you were sure to
put things back where they belonged

and didn't leave objects out on the floor.

It wasn't because my grandparents
were strict.

My grandmother, Josie, was blind.

And if we messed with that order,

and didn't put things back
where they belonged,

it could cause confusion, frustration,

or even physical harm.

I remember as a kid trying to understand
what it would be like to navigate spaces

without my sense of sight.

I would close my eyes real tight,

and I would try to remember the way my
grandparents’ living room looked–

I walked with my small hands
outstretched in front of me–

until I ran into a chair, and then a
lamp, and then the wall.

It was in that moment that
I was in awe of her.

On the occasion that my brother and I
would be spending the entire day

at my grandparents' house,

we would bring along our VHS tapes,

you know pre-DVD or streaming service?

And many, if not all of those tapes were
Disney movies–

we were American children
of the late 80s early 90s.

We would sit on that bright red
carpet staring up at their large TV

housed in an even larger
entertainment center.

In between preparing meals,

my grandmother would come in and she'd sit
down in her recliner,

and she'd say, “Tell me about
your stories,”

referencing the action taking place
on the screen.

Aladdin was one of our favorites
to enjoy together.

I would describe 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 that magic carpet ride
through the clouds.

I wanted her to feel included,
to be a part of what we were watching.

And those thoughts were a
response to my feelings of empathy.

I had this unique childhood where I was
learning about empathy

through my relationship with my
grandmother…

through our watching of Disney movies.

But I know not everyone has an
experience like that.

But I believe that it is important
and crucial

that we provide our children with
opportunities

to have relationships that foster
empathetic connections.

Now as a quick aside, I know the word
empathy comes with its own baggage.

Maybe in your circles it's a word that's
thrown around so much

that you're sick of hearing about it,

or it's lost its meaning altogether.

Or, maybe you've heard it said that
empathy is a “soft skill”

that needs to be shared with our students.

I attest that there is nothing “soft”
or mooshy about it.

Instead, it is a critical
skill to be honed

as we learn what it means to be human.

I'm an elementary art educator.

I teach my students about
artists, culture,

and the purposeful use of art materials.

But I also see it as my role
to engage them

in conversations about
character education,

and specifically empathy.

But how do we often define empathy
to our youngest children?

Think about it.

Often times you might use the...

“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 go,

"Why am I putting on someone else’s
shoes!?”

That is weird to them,

they don’t understand the language we're
using for this really important topic.

And even a simplified definition such as

“understanding and sharing the feelings of
others”

is really hard to internalize
as a 5-year-old.

So instead, very purposeful conversations
about practical, observable behaviors

is necessary.

How do I show empathy in the classroom,
at the park with my friends,

to my grandmother,

to someone that looks
differently than me,

to someone that acts differently than me…?

A year ago, I was sitting around with my
colleagues at school,

and we were talking about
character education.

We were developing a
school-wide curriculum,

and we went around and around
about definitions and explanations.

And then one summer night,
it hit those of us in the room–

our eyes were opened to the fact, that the
root of empathy lies in awareness.

Awareness: “a noticing of what is
happening in and around you

so that you can make a choice.”

You can have a response, have
an empathetic response.

But first, we have to have an
awareness of ourselves.

I'm the grocery shopper in our family.

I take my list and enjoy the thrill of the
hunt as I try to stay below budget,

which I mostly do.

And one week I was notified
that we needed new napkins.

And I came upon these
illustrated beauties.

They're conversation napkins.

And we got a real kick out of them
as we went around the table.

Every night, we would go around
at dinner time and answer them,

and have fun, and laugh together.

But it really got me thinking about a very
purposeful teaching opportunity

I had with my own family.

And so, I thought, we often times
talk about our feelings

"I'm happy," "I'm sad,"

but do we spend time together
talking about why we feel that way?

And so I've gotten into the practice of
asking my 5-year-old daughter

about her day at school in this way:

I say, “Tell me about a part of your
day when you were proud.

Tell me about a part of your day
when you were frustrated.

Tell me about a part of your day
when you were really excited.”

Different nights I may ask about a
different emotion, a different feeling.

My favorite, "Tell me about
a part of your day

where you laughed so hard
you fell on the floor."

And I'm also sure as the adult,
to tell her

that I too, in that day, had moments
where I was scared,

and moments that I was proud,

and definitely moments where I laughed
so hard that I fell on the floor.

But you see, she's quick.
She's real quick.

And one day, I said, “Tell me about a
part of your day when you were sad."

And she said, "Well I wasn't sad,

but my friend Ellie was sad when she
didn’t get to play with the magnatiles.”

See, the observed behaviors and
feelings of others

have become a part of who she is as
a person, and as a friend.

And it all leads us to having
an awareness of others.

I was teaching a unit on architecture

when Hurricane Harvey hit Houston.

And it was to my fourth graders,

and I had several fourth grade
students come to class asking questions

about how this natural disaster

would affect the buildings in the city.

And they were asking these questions,
they led us to other conversations

and soon we were talking
about how the elements

would affect the lives
of the people there.

Soon the whole class was in conversation,
and I sat back and listened,

as I watched them turn the story into
about the art room

of the students in Houston,

and watching them almost see themselves
in that place,

to then begin having conversations about
what would happen to the art supplies,

and the furniture, and all of the art work
that they had spent their time on.

As I listened, I wanted
to provide them with another opportunity,

a way to artistically process the thoughts
and the feelings that they had.

So, what I did is I introduced them to
two artists

that cover items, and rooms,
and actual houses with polka dots.

What these artists are doing is talking
about our unity, about trauma,

about community.

And as a result, we created this
5 foot tall house structure.

Now there's a lot more here than just
playful polka dots–

each of those dots represents
an art supply

that a fourth grade student donated
to a school in Houston.

See it wasn't health supplies, or food,
but it was art supplies.

It had become very real to them.

The idea that our room, our art room is a
safe place

where they learn about themselves,
about community, about the world,

all while having fun.

And the idea that there'd be
children in Houston

that maybe miss out
on those opportunities

really resonated with them.

It became real to them.

See these thoughts, these
feelings of empathy,

led to practical practice...

Their awareness led to practical practice.

I no longer sit on the floor in front my
grandmother watching Disney movies.

Those days are long gone.

But now, I sit on the floor next to my
5-year-old daughter, also named Josie.

We watch as Aladdin and Jasmine take
flight on the magic carpet.

And there's this moment where the
carpet takes a deep dive

and Princess Jasmine braces herself in
fear by covering her eyes with her hands.

As she does so on the screen,
so does my 5-year-old daughter.

She is experiencing empathy
for this animated princess,

she's experiencing fear along with her.

But it’s then that Aladdin responds
to Jasmine and he says,

“Don’t you dare close your eyes”
and he pulls her hands from her face,

opening her eyes to the experiences
around her.

And as he does, so do I with
my 5-year-old daughter.

I pull her fingers from her face.

May we open our children’s eyes to the
world around them

to engage them in opportunities, 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.

Thank you.