It was a wild morning.

My feet hit the floor a few minutes after 5 (they should have been firmly planted and on the go right at 5). I made breakfast, showered, walked the dog, and made it to school a few minutes after 6. The next 90 or so minutes were a mad dash of last-minute tasks before the kids showed up for the first day of the new school year.

The staff gathered to greet students outside as they got off busses, were dropped off by their adults, or walked across the soccer field from their homes. There were lots of smiles this morning. Lots. It was great to see.

But there were also a few weary faces. Young, weary faces. Faces that reminded me that for as busy as my morning was, theirs were at least as busy, if not busier. Probably harder, too. Mornings filled with responsibilities kids shouldn’t have to deal with. 

I say this without judgment. Times are tough. Real tough. Families are doing what they gotta do to get by. Sometimes that means kids deal with adult stuff, handle responsibilities they wouldn’t have to if things were just a bit easier for everyone at home. 

It’s not a matter of right or wrong. It’s simply what is.

The truly amazing thing is that these kids still showed up for the first day of school. And they’ll keep showing up.

I was fortunate enough to find a powerful poem earlier this week, and it came to mind this morning as I watched those young, weary faces head into a new school year.

Here it is:

Cause I Ain’t Got a Pencil
By Joshua T. Dickerson
I woke myself up
Because we ain’t got an alarm clock
Dug in the dirty clothes basket,
Cause ain’t nobody washed my uniform
Brushed my hair and teeth in the dark,
Cause the lights ain’t on
Even got my baby sister ready,
Cause my mama wasn’t home.
Got us both to school on time,
To eat us a good breakfast.
Then when I got to class the teacher fussed
Cause I ain’t got a pencil.

It’s easy — maybe too easy — to get caught up in the quotidian expectations that come with being an educator. We need to stop and remember that sometimes, for some students, just showing up is the absolute achievement of their day. That sometimes, a molehill to us is most definitely a mountain to a student.

Which isn’t to say that we shouldn’t hold those kids to our classroom expectations, but we also need to give them grace. How much grace? Well, you know those times when we’ve had a hell of a morning and are struggling to meet the basic expectations of our jobs? And you know how on those days we seek a bit of grace from our students and our colleagues?

We need to give least that much grace.

Being a kid has never been easy, and I don’t know that it’s ever been harder than it is right now. Before we fuss over a student showing up to school without a pencil, we need to pause and consider what they did bring to school. It might be something big and heavy that we can’t see. And maybe, instead of fussing, if we just hand that kid a pencil — accompanied by a smile — it will turn their whole day around.

Give grace. It’s rarely declined.