Can We Talk About Awards Ceremonies

This is something I wrote three years ago. I had meant to publish it each year at the end of school, but the pandemic made it a bit irrelevant. As we are now in our first year of face-to-face instruction since the fall of 2019, I hope that folks (teachers!) read this and re-think how they might honor their students at the end of this challenging school year…

I just read Michelle McKinney’s post on the [Confessions of an Adoptive Parent] blog, and it was brilliant. I am with her in my pride for my children who are wrapping up another school year and in the fact that I am most definitely limping…maybe even crawling and moaning in extreme agony…over the finish line. However, my son’s school was not as good about presenting meaningful awards to the rising second graders. The ceremony began with the Accelerated Reader Awards – these are for the voracious readers who took lots of comprehension tests on the books they read and earned lots of points for correct answers on said tests. (I have a doctorate in early childhood literacy and am much more impressed with students who connect with texts and who use reading and writing to address inequities and to change the world. Lofty goals, I know, but I have tremendous faith in our youth to read FOR A PURPOSE OTHER THAN TO ANSWER QUESTIONS ON A TEST!) The awards continued with certificates for perfect attendance (definitely NOT getting that one due to the numerous therapies we go to in order to best support my son), being in the county art show (he is a GREAT artist, but struggles to participate in a class of 26 – he EXCELS with small group instruction), being an enthusiastic participant in P.E. (by the way, we would totally win that one if extreme fighting was part of the curriculum), and citizenship (defining that might be a topic for another post).

Throughout the presentations of these awards, my son sat in the row in front of me squirming and writhing, wondering why everyone else was getting awards except for him. I gently rubbed his shoulder and assured him that I was proud of him and was certain that there was a certificate with his name on it. Then they moved onto the “Completion of 1st Grade” awards. FINALLY…his name would be called. But of course he had to sit through Mrs. D’s class and Mrs. T’s class until Mrs. W’s class could be called…and, of course, his last name starts with “S”…so you can imagine how difficult and nerve-wracking and stressful this was for his little, sweet soul. He hugged his teacher tight at the presentation of the award and smiled proudly as he stood with his class on stage, but I could not help but wonder if there was a better way to honor and acknowledge the strengths and gifts of each of these magnificent 6-year olds.

If I could decide on an award, I would give my son “Most Courageous.” That kid showed up EVERY DAY. He was there when he was sad, when his stress response was on high alert, when he was nervous, when he struggled to focus, when he was confused about who he was and where he came from, when he knew more than what they were trying to teach him, when he was confused about what was expected, when he had big emotions even though he thought no one else felt the feelings he felt, and when he wanted desperately to “fit in” and to “do good.” That kid NEVER STOPPED TRYING. And for that my heart is exploding with love and pride for a boy I am blessed to call son. I just hope that he recognizes his courage, his strength, his brilliance, and his perseverance. He has taught ME (and those in his school community) so much, and I just wish there was a way to honor him for that.