Approximately 27 years ago, as a young, enthusiastic teacher at Schmitt Elementary School, I made a very rash decision. I decided that a wonderful learning experience for my 5th and 6th grade science classes would be an experiment in chicken ranching. We started with 22 tiny chicks which fit nicely in a large cage.
I am a city girl. No one ever told me about chickens. No one ever told me that chickens suffer from digestive problems and their smell is less that aromatic. No one told me that chickens mature rapidly. I thought that chickens did not reach adulthood and become active members of society for at least six months. In three short weeks, I was suddenly dealing with actual chickens! Chickens with feathers and attitudes.
I was quickly becoming the bane of the custodial staff and the pariah of the building. I built a make-shift pen using boards and chicken wire. Meanwhile, much to my dismay, the chickens continued to double in size.
One morning, a fantastic idea hit me. I would hold “The Great Chicken Raffle”.
Flyers were sent home, and students had to bring parental permission slips to qualify for a chicken. Luckily, there were more than enough permission slips returned to cover twenty-two chickens.
The great day arrived. Excitement filled the air. I had used my hole-puncher to make air hole in twenty-two large paper bags that I had on hand. Everything was set.
The students were filled with hopeful expectation. Except, that is, for one child whom I shall call Sally. She appeared quite lethargic most of the day. Her head was frequently down on her desk. Finally I put my hand on her shoulder and asked, “Are you feeling sick?”
Sally sat straight up in her chair. “Oh, no! I’m okay. I’ve just been praying all day that God will give me a chicken.”
I patted her on the shoulder and said nothing. I had learned as a teacher that children are always full of surprises. Two things struck me that day. Children are honest and sincere in their expressionsÉand chickens, apparently, wield a great deal of power!
Finally, it was time. One by one, I pulled out pieces of paper from a box and read each name. As the lucky winner would walk to the front of the class, I would grab a chicken, stuff it in a bag, and hand it over. (This was not always easy, as several chickens were not cooperating.)
My conscience was bothering me. Did I dare resort to dishonesty and call Sally’s name? Much to my relief and sheer joy, I didn’t have to. Sally won the 19th chicken.
In my entire teaching career, I have never seen such total jubilation! Sally jumped up and down with delight, grabbed her “bag of chicken” and went flying out the door.
I heard that Sally kept her chicken as a pet for a long time until it met some fowl demise. I’m assuming that most of the other chickens ended up in pots, accompanied by dumplings or egg noodles.
This memory lives on in my mind and in my heart. Teachers are in an extremely powerful position. We call the shots. We hold the gradebook. We have chicken raffles. We can smile and make a child’s day, or frown and pierce a heart. We have the power to praise or punish, love or reject, build or tear down. What an awesome responsibility. And what delightful memories we cherish.
Bette A Davis