"Friendship Is Not One Big Thing, Its a Million Little Things"

Previously in this blog I talked about writing assignments I give my class. I always write what they are writing, and am quick to share. Today I led a great lesson on friendship. We watched three short videos with different friend-based themes and discussed each. The last video ended with a young man proclaiming "Friendship is not one big thing, its a million little things." I used that as my prompt and turned the kids loose. below is what I wrote, and no I won't share this one with kids. I did not use my school only language.

Friendship can either be the most comforting or most terrifying aspect of life. In the minds of some middle school children it is the only thing. In an ever-changing digital world where the number of friends you have on My Space or Facebook is a badge of honor to be worn proudly there cannot be a timelier topic. Last week The New Oxford American Dictionary named unfriend the word of the year. Unfriend is defined as a verb meaning to remove someone as a friend on a social networking site. Teenagers and young adults interviewed on the subject almost unanimously felt being unfriended on-line is more devastating than a face-to-face blow out. Is it no wonder the saying “Friendship is not just one big thing, its a million little things.” Is confusing to kids today.
Friendship is like a wedding cake. There is a big bottom layer. Sure I see these people as friends, but in reality they are acquaintances. People I know and like, but not really friends. You bump into them at wedding receptions and during happy hour. For the most part you are happy to see them, exchange pleasant greeting and move on.
The next layer, that smaller middle layer of the cake are the people I work with. The bond is obvious and we have a common goal. Because of these commonalities you grow close. Many times you travel to conferences and meetings with these Dudes, sit in meetings, and share that common pool of blood, sweat, and tears. With this group it is not one big thing, far from it, it is the million little things. You share joy over a kid acing a test, or finishing a paper. You cry together when a student loses a parent to death, jail, or desertion. You grieve when a treasured colleague changes schools. The million little things you have in common build a bond that knows no bounds.
The top layer, that small little chunk of sugar and frosting forgotten in the freezer, are the friends you love. You help them move with out complaining, even when the thermometer is topping out at 100 degrees. You drop what you are doing to go give them a jump start at 5:30 a.m. You leave for work 45 minutes earlier than usual so you can follow them to the mechanic then give them a ride to work. You make a million little sacrifices and get back so much more than you can count. These friends listen to you never ending litany of “fucked-up decisions made by dick-headed non-educators posing as administrators.” They pull over so you won’t puke in the car. They clean your fish and fix your lawn mower. Those friends you share a million little things with are the ones that are there when you need that one big thing.
Friendship is not an easy A. Many people grade themselves as friends closer to a C, but a high C. If you get what the saying “Friendship is not one big thing, it is a million smaller things” means that’s all that matters. You understand friendship, and live that value. Unfriend means nothing to you.

Fanning the Flames

Thank you Indianapolis. November 5-7 I attended the National Middle School Conference in Indianapolis. Teaching at the middle level is quite possibly one of the most hazardous jobs on the planet. Lacking HAZMAT suits, tazer guns, or pepper spray we wade into battle everyday armed with nothing but a laptop and a sense of humor. Dr. Sharon Faber, as entertaining an educator as you will ever see, puts it best when she describes the typical 8th grade boy. “They run everywhere they go, bump into something then make a sexually inappropriate comment when they get there.”
Seriously, I thoroughly enjoy teaching Middle School. The trials at this level are a daily reminder of just how much adolescence can suck. Each day brings Johnnies who’s heads are fighting a losing battle with gravity. “It’s weird Mr. T, as soon as I sit down gravity pulls my head straight down to the table, I’m weak I can’t lift it, oh I’m so weak.” And whose hormones are in the red zone, “I can’t believe that bitch said that, that is it, she is through, I will ruin her life.” To that one I step in and in my best Ward Cleaver intervene, “Excuse me Johnette, no matter how mad you are at one of your friends you must be respectful, think of more school appropriate language to express your feelings.”
Johnette stops texting, looks up blankly, pops a bubble and murmurs, “I’m talking about my mom you Asshole.”
God I love it. The conference in Indy stoked the old furnace. Each session I attended offered me hope, fostered confidence, and fueled the creativity I’ve always relied on in the classroom. The icing on the cake was the opportunity to be a presenter. For the second time in five years a few of my colleagues and I led a session on technology in the classroom. We once again presented to a jam-packed room. The feedback we received praised our enthusiasm and ingenuity, and validated our belief in what we are doing. And for that I say, Thank you Indianapolis.