We began the day with the adoption process. Yesterday we had begun to consider what we wanted to name our new adoptees. I carefully recorded each name on the board, then a rogue game of tic-tac-toe erased most of them, so we started fresh this morning. Only one name was rethought and changed. The rest remembered and stayed with their original names. Next we ceremoniously filled out adoption papers. They read, “I________, agree to adopt a Painted Lady butterfly on this ______day of May, 2011. I promise to release my adopted butterfly into the outdoors with care and cheer with all my might as he/she flutters to the sky. I also agree to think fondly of my adopted butterfly whenever I see another butterfly anytime, anywhere. The name of my adopted butterfly shall be ______________, now and forevermore.” The space for an official signature was provided at the bottom. Our carefully chosen names included Girlie, Optimus, Junior, Edgard, Painted Lady, Frisky, and Chicken-School-Door.
Our dilemma…
Eight adoption parents (including me), and eleven winged beauties, ready to fly the coop. We needed more people willing to adopt. My little angel – the only girl in the bunch – approached me with a thought when the scheduled school counselor came in for her semi-monthly visit. “Mrs. Dahl, let’s let her adopt a butterfly.” In her little mind, what we were about to ask was a high honor. OF COURSE, she would say yes. Who in their right mind would refuse to adopt a butterfly? People the world over were lined up for such an amazing honor as that. Little China Doll really likes the school counselor. The counselor had been vetted by my first grade recruiter and has all the qualifications for good parenting in place. She is nice and really pretty. She’s in.
Our next adoption pick was the Future Business Leaders of America club. They would collectively adopt one of our Painted Ladies and rumor had it that they were taking their responsibility of choosing an appropriate name quite seriously. In short order, I had a fully completed adoption paper signed, sealed, and delivered. The voted upon name? Anita Flutterby. I was assured that the entire club would be present for the Big Release.
Our final adoption went to our favorite custodian. She accepted the honor with all the delight and humility of a real parent. Yes, OF COURSE she would adopt one of Our Precious. The name she chose….Free Willy.
Now prospective adopters were flooding in. We had more qualified parents than we had butterflies. Well, who cares? Let’s keep the goodwill rolling. The librarian chose Lady Joy and our Foster Grandmother, Esmerelda.
With parents found for all our Winged Wonders (and a few godparents thrown in for good measure), it was time to try to get some real school work done. Not an easy task with the excitement of our afternoon celebration looming AND chocolate cake sitting on the shelf decorated with sprinkles and a picture of a Painted Lady. But work we did, with one eye fixed on the clock.
Finally it was time to line up for lunch, which meant recess after that, which meant, phonics after that, which meant reading group after that, which meant (HURRAY!), time to release our butterflies!!
Before we headed to the lunchroom, we donned white T-shirts with the words “Release Crew” stenciled on the back. We had uniforms and now we were official. We found the Painted Lady crowns we had been wearing all week (and amazingly had not ruined yet), and we were we ready to hit the halls in style. As I passed the custodian, she placed a tiny pink paper package in my hand that had a teeny handle on top. Puzzled I asked her, “What’s this?” In true Becky fashion she said seriously, “It’s a suitcase for Free Willy.” Do you just love that? Unbelievable. I cannot tell you how much I love teaching in a small school.
Finally the appointed hour came. I wondered if I might have to soothe some upset feelings or dry some tears. After all, these were our babies. We had raised them from just-hatched larvae and had marveled over them every day of their short lives. We were quite attached. But amazingly, no tears and no distress. We had talked of nothing else for days. They were ready. Nature was calling, and as I had explained, they needed to be released so that they could lay eggs for more butterfly babies.
When 1:45 arrived, a great deal of activity cloistered around our room. I shooed my students towards the bathrooms for a quick break and was surprised to find the second grade at our door. Their teacher grinned at me. “We want to be there when you release your butterflies.” Welcome aboard! The more the merrier. Kindergarten was moving towards the outer door as well. Now we have a bona fide party! Before we could get ourselves out the door, I see the face of a high schooler peeking in our lone window and the muffled words, “Are you coming?” I laughed in delight.
The elementary foster grandmother suddenly appeared. She had signed adoption papers. She would fulfill her obligations. Looking around to make sure we were ready, and grabbing my camera I reached for the blue, netted habitat and made my way outside. Wow! Windy day. At least it wasn’t snowing (don’t laugh, Southern Friends, we had a blizzard on Saturday).
As I emerged from the stairwell and stepped on the playground, I was greeted by a dozen high school kids, each wearing a colorful paper butterfly pinned to their shirt. The Royal Wedding of William and Kate was no more auspicious than this simple rite. We were excited, we were filled with hope, and we looked GREAT.
With the yearbook editor snapping away, we took some group photos of our last moments with Girlie, Optimus, Chicken-School-Door, and the rest of the gang. Now it was time to do what we had come to do. I unzipped the top of the enclosure and gave the cage a little shake. Our Beauties were more reluctant than I had expected (sort of like a certain college-bound child of mine). Another shake, then a reach into the habitat to shoo, and two tumbled out. It looked as though they were going to fall straight to the ground, but at the last moment, remembered that they possessed the ability to fly and suddenly lifted on the wind and soared upward. A great cry rose from the ranks as we cheered their success. Chants of “fly, fly, FLY!” resounded off the walls of the building, and just like that, they were lost against a blue sky. We cheered like we were witness to Orville and Wilbur Wright’s first flight.
We spent the rest of the afternoon partying and celebrating. Butterfly cake with sprinkles (one OCD student wanted to know how MANY sprinkles I had used on the cake), and popcorn. We watched Toy Story 3 and wore our butterfly crowns in remembrance of our Fragile Friends.
I spent the afternoon denying second servings of cake and pondering the value of how we were spending our time. Sure, we had a GEAT time. But what had they learned today? This is the argument of scripted curriculum vs. intrinsic value that a teacher must carefully wade through. The love of nature and beauty of God’s world are important to me and yes, I desire to pass that along to my students, just as I did with my own children. Will these experiences help them become better students, citizens, and people in general? The short answer is, I don’t know. If you, the reader, have insight on this topic, I would love to hear it. These are the issues I grapple with; how to best use my instructional time. I only have a few precious hours each day with these kids. I want every minute to count and be productive. I have a responsibility to carefully consider how we spend our time and what I incorporate into the day, and what I discard.
My gut instinct tells me that moving away from texts and worksheets to revel in the intrinsic creates better, more focused students. But the state tells me that there are non-negotiable standards and benchmarks that must be met each and every year. The HOW of that is left to my discretion. Really, teaching is not as easy as one might think. It is fun adventure and serious business all at the same time. Finding the perfect balance is challenging, at best.
Well, whatever the answer is, the last two weeks have been unforgettable. The crowning glory for me came yesterday morning as a kindergarten student “wandered” in when she was supposed to be getting a drink in the hall (her excuse to visit the butterflies). One of my first graders was instantly at her elbow to proudly facilitate the visit and be a tour guide. As she shared her knowledge and obvious pride, I heard her say to her younger peer, “And next year when you’re a first grader, YOU’LL get to have butterflies!” The smile on the face of the kindergartener was beautiful.
And just like that, my decision about whether or not to do this again was made for me.
Butterflies are now a Magic Tree House tradition.
Intrinsic wins.
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