Getting "Hi" in the classroom: a tornado survival story

It was one of those days all teachers have.

It started with a few admonitions for students to stop talking. Once one student stopped, the next would start, and soon there were outbreaks all over the classroom…and this was my fourth hour class, the class that came through for me on those days when all of my other classes were afflicted with that contagious wildness that comes from changes of weather, cycles of the moon, or vast right-wing conspiracies depending on which veteran teacher is doing the talking.

It was almost impossible to get anything going for more than a few minutes, and in the middle of this tsunami of adolescent conversation, the right hand of the one girl who had not been talking, the one girl who almost never talked, thrust forward with the urgency of someone who had a vital message to deliver.

“Sabrina,” I said, looking in her direction.

She smiled and said, “Hi.”

The rest of the class looked at me. If anything was going to cause this cranky old-timer to snap it would be that one word rebellious statement.





And looking back on that day, nearly two years in the past, I recall that my first instinct was to chastise Sabrina for wasting my time. But the face that was looking at me was not one of someone who was to trying to irritate me or to provoke me in any fashion.

It was the face of a thoughtful, considerate eighth grader who knew just when her teacher needed someone to offer a friendly “Hi.”

My growing anger dissolved in a blink and somehow I was able to steer my class back to learning how to develop their writing skills so they could succeed in high school and later in life

That simple word would have remained a “hi” point of the 2009-2010 school year for me, but it became a scenario that repeated itself often throughout the year. On a few occasions, Sabrina’s “Hi” came when the class was slightly unruly. Most of the time, it was just an acknowledgment that everything was okay. The one thing I never considered it to be was an interruption of class.

The 2009-2010 school year, the first in our new East Middle School building, ended much too soon, and on that last day, Sabrina didn’t disappoint me. The right hand darted out, I called her, and she smiled and said, “Hi.”

I was going to miss that word of encouragement.

Sabrina realized that, too. After class, she presented me with one of the most cherished mementoes I have from my dozen years in the classroom- a multi-colored wooden frame with Mr. Turner written in black letters on the top and a cute blue creature saying “Hi,” surrounded by 20 “Hi’s.”

A big smile covered her face. “Now I’ll be able to say ‘Hi’ to you every day,” she said.

I am sure the damp spots on my face at that moment were due to the humidity.

Every day during the 2010-2011 school year, I glanced at that gift that kept on giving. On the normal days when the stream of education was flowing in the proper direction, it brought a smile to my face. On days when the storm clouds were brewing over my corner classroom, it made me realize that this, too, shall pass.







When I received word after the May 22 tornado that decimated the city of Joplin that East Middle School had been severely damaged, I imagined the worst and my first visit to what was left of the campus did nothing to dispel my fears. The auditorium, the gymnasium, the band room, the commons area, all were gone, leveled by nature’s fierce fury.

I was unable to get into my classroom that day, but I had heard that it was one of those that received the most damage. Last week, the East Middle School faculty was called in to remove personal belongings.

I did not recognize the room that I had called home for two years. My Writers’ Wall of Fame, posted papers of my students’ best work had somehow survived, except for a few that had slipped off the wall and fallen into the small lake that had been created when the sprinkler system was activated.

My collection of books that I used each year during the third quarter for our research project on the American Civil Rights Movement had not been damaged at all.

Other items were unsalvageable. The first I noticed, which had somehow broken away from the others in a cosmic act of irony was a copy of the school’s tornado procedures.

I walked over to my desk, skimmed through the books and papers that had been strewn about. The one thing I did not see was Sabrina’s gift. I looked at the floor. If it were there, it would be damaged beyond repair.

There was no sign of it.

Again, I looked at my desk and on the front right-hand corner, I saw a portion of the frame, buried under papers and a couple of textbooks. I lifted those items and, there it was, face-down on the desk. I turned it over and there, slightly dirty, but still intact, was one of the best gifts any teacher ever received.

Despite the destruction that surrounded me, that collection of “Hi’s” was enough to put the smile back on my face.

When East Middle School reopens in August, and the construction process has already begun, I will be surrounded by an entirely new room, a new teacher’s desk, new furnishings, all interchangeable with all of the other classrooms in my building.

The one thing that I will have that my fellow faculty members will not is that gift that will hold the same position of importance in my new classroom, as it did in my old one, the gift that even a tornado could not destroy.

I will still have my daily reminder that it is a good thing for a teacher to get “Hi” in the classroom.

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The story in this post as well as other stories from survivors of the May 22, 2011 Joplin Tornado can be found in 5:41: Stories from the Joplin Tornado available at Amazon.com

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