The Bracelet...Teaching Grace, and Learning More

Science teachers have appropriately earned a reputation for being the go-to person at my school- we always need and have a variety of objects on hand~ a collection of plastic spoons, baggies, clay, thread and yarn, various sizes of balls (excuse me, spheres!)  Many times I have also made use of a "junk bucket," which for me is an old KU Jayhawk popcorn tin filled with stuff.  A foam visor.  A #6 birthday candle.  A door knob.  Minnie Mouse bubbles.  Just a lot of random stuff that the kids find fascinating.

The other day, I broke out the junk bucket for kids to use with finding the mass of things.  I teach four hours of 6th grade science, and by the time my fourth class was in session, I noticed that a particular green and white shell bracelet was missing from the junk bucket.  I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.  My own kids had stolen from me when I trusted them with my personal things.   I began a CSI-like investigation to find who the thief was.

1:05  I realized the bracelet was missing.  I asked if anybody in my 4th hour had seen the bracelet.  They had not.
1:06  The Boy With a Broken Arm comes to my room for a safe seat.
1:07  I looked through the kids' papers to see who had found the mass of the missing bracelet.  Only two girls from second hour had, and then nobody, so I sought them out.
1:08  Found girl one "Liza" in her social studies class.  She said she gave the bracelet to "Mindy."
1:09  Found Mindy in math.  She said she gave the bracelet to "Ben".
1:12 Found Ben in the hallway- it was passing period.  He said he put the bracelet back in the bin, but The Boy With the Broken Arm had shown him in the bathroom that he had the bracelet.

Interesting...The Boy With the Broken Arm had just been in my room, sent there for a safe seat.  I had to find him.

1:18  I found and confronted The Boy With the Broken Arm in his math intervention class.  He quite vehemently denied taking the bracelet.  "What would I even do with a bracelet?"  A search of his pockets and binder turned up...no bracelet.

1:21  I returned to my room, sad that one of my kids had stolen from me and I couldn't figure out who.  Then, on a hunch, I searched my safe seat desk.  Lo and behold...the bracelet!  

There was only one logical explanation.  The Boy With the Broken Arm had taken the bracelet, and when I discovered it was missing 4th hour, he hid it back in the safe seat desk.  

I wasn't quite sure how to proceed.  I had been both lied to and stolen from, and that feels yucky.  But The Boy With the Broken Arm had also done the right thing and returned the bracelet.  

I talked to the other teachers on my team about this incident.  The ELA teacher told me that he had a rough morning- he cried in her class when nobody picked him to be their partner.  He also sat alone in my science class.  He had been safe seated to me from the social studies teacher for distracting others.  It sounded like he just wasn't adjusting well to middle school.

After praying and mulling it over all evening and well into the night, I decided that I must confront The Boy With the Broken Arm the next day.  I wanted him to know that I knew that he had taken the bracelet, and he hadn't gotten away with it.  But that wasn't all- the word "grace" kept coming into my mind.  I felt like I had to help him experience grace.  

The next day, as he came into my science class, I called The Boy With the Broken Arm over to talk to me.

"Hi.  I know that yesterday you made a bad decision and you took the bracelet."

The Boy With the Broken Arm looked down.  He knew what was coming.

"I found the bracelet in the safe seat desk.  I know that you made a good decision too, that you returned the bracelet.  Thank you."

The Boy With the Broken Arm looked up at me and smiled real big.  "I knew you would find it!"  I couldn't help but smile back as I hugged him and he went on into class.

Later that hour, during work time, he came up to me and said, "You know, I make bracelets for my little sister sometimes."

"That's so nice of you!" I replied.  "How old is your sister?

"One.  Well, she was one.  She died last year."

Oh.  "What did she die from?"

"Leukemia."  That was all he said.  I could hear the sadness in his voice.  My heart went out to The Boy With the Broken Arm.  How difficult the past year must have been for him.  How many nights was he put on the back burner so his family could (rightfully so) deal with his sister's sickness and then death?  How many times had he been passed over?  Life is hard enough for a ten-year old boy, let alone one who has to deal with the tragedy of losing a sibling.

I was so thankful that I had been reminded the night before about grace.  He didn't need a lecture or a punishment.  He needed grace.

I gave The Boy With the Broken Arm the bracelet  (and a note saying that I had given it to him!)  He needed it way more than I did.  I hope that bracelet reminds him from time to time that he is loved and forgiven.