Happy Face

Every morning, I write my kinder kids' names on the board. They earn smiley faces for good behavior, following directions, or whatever I feel like giving smiley faces for. For every three smileys, they earn a sticker. The threat of losing a smiley face holds incredible sway over these kids. 


We discussed feelings in speaking class. This is a dangerous topic to address with a dozen exhausted kindergarteners. Nevertheless, we talked about things that make them happy or sad or excited. When we got to angry, I received an education in how these kids treat each other when teachers aren't watching. I also learned that Peter accidentally broke Justin's toy gun hours earlier, and Justin still was not over it. 


A few minutes after this conversation, Peter raised his hand. 


"Teacher, take my happy face please and give to Justin." Peter is my tallest kinder kid, and he's high on the list of energetic and loud students. I forget sometimes that he's also my most sensitive child. 


"Do you want me to give your happy face to Justin because you broke his toy?" I asked him. He nodded slowly, staring broken-heartedly at his desk. 


"Take all my happy faces," he continued. I felt ridiculous trying not to tear up in front of my class. Instead we talked about phrases like "I'm sorry" and "I forgive you," though I don't think either boy was convinced that any words were an adequate resolution to this grave problem. I couldn't bring myself to give away Peter's happy faces. He should have gotten extras.