The Art of Being Human

I wasn't entirely surprised when my fourth graders nutted up on me.  It was that time of year. Spring Break was a memory and summer vacation was a dream. My students forgot how to do everything, line up, put their name on their papers, what a verb was, and don't even get me started on fractions. My dearest, sweetest students became surly and defiant. And talking back was apparently a new indoor sport. I didn't help. I did everything wrong. I was a perfect example of what not to do. I chastised, reprimanded, called parents and passed out stickers and candy like a demented Mr. Candy Man.  Then I nutted up with them. Room 17 was not a fun place to be. I broke my hard and fast rule about what to do when things go south. Don't do the same thing harder, do something new. In the middle of a what-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do moment I remembered a story about the king and queen of heaven. It teased the edges of my consciousness and although I didn't think it had anything ...