By Carol Lucas
Last week I wrote about the search for good news and how difficult it was to find these days. I then set forth a list of troubling, and in some cases, downright terrifying situations that were permeating the news then.
These continue to have a stranglehold on our coverage, but the fact that it is December, a time of supposed peace and goodwill, I was determined not to be “Debbie Downer” this week. I would find something positive, come hell, high water, or another mass shooting.
So I sat at my computer, cogitating … and coming up short … until I turned to my old faithful, and not always productive, Facebook. Yes, I could write an entire column about that source, seamy underbelly and all.
But in this case, it was a posting by the daughter of a close friend who has a son at Gannon University in Pennsylvania. It showed a mound of teddy bears, and the post read: “A sea of teddy bears came flowing from the crowd at tonight’s game against Behrend, our first teddy toss game. The largest of the bears was tossed from Behrend’s bench. Thanks for supporting our cause, boys!”
I admit I didn’t do further research to discover what Gannon’s cause, “the teddy toss”, is because I was immediately taken back in time to my high school teaching days and my coordination of our community service learning program. I could write a book about that time with the program, but I will focus, instead, on what was one of the best and most-loved projects our students engaged in, The Teddy Bear Holiday.
Ironically, this idea came from Spring Valley High School, located near Columbia. Through a nationwide program sponsoring experiential education/community service learning, I became acquainted with Spring Valley’s coordinator, a dynamic woman who later became a close friend and remains so to this day.
Our program came to life when I called together representatives from each of the extra-curricular programs in the high school: the Art Club, Student Senate, the football team, the band. You get the idea. We must have had at least 25 extra-curricular groups who wanted to participate.
Prior to this, I had contacted a facility where young children were housed, most with their mothers. In speaking with the director of the home, I found she was receptive to our project, but asked that anonymity be maintained.
The first year, just teddy bears were given to the children. It was a relatively low-key project, but by the second year, it became competitive. And this was due strictly to input from the high school kids. Several got together and came to me with questions like, “Why just a teddy bear? Why not clothing as well?” Or, “Why not give them some other toy in addition to the teddy bear?” And so the program began to take on a life of its own.
By the third year of The Teddy Bear Holiday, we had added a school-wide assembly to present the bears (and additional gifts) to a representative of the home. The bears were no longer just plain old teddy bears. Indeed, a “competition of bears” had emerged front and center. The football players bought a large bear with a helmet on its head. The French Club’s bear sported a beret. The Latin Club bear was dressed in a toga. The school choir managed to adjust the arms of their bear to hold sheet music.
The creativity and enthusiasm on the part of those kids was both astounding and beyond gratifying. It was living proof of what young people can and will do when called upon.
On a personal level, I must include a couple of side stories. The day before the assembly, all of the bears were brought to my classroom. Given that the English classes I taught usually had at least 25 students, there were, of course, that number of desks. Those bringing the bears in deemed it entirely appropriate to put one bear at each desk. I stayed till the last bear was delivered and I could lock the door.
However, I forgot that the custodian would come in to clean the room. Let me interject here and say that as long as I taught, I always cultivated a good relationship with the custodians as well as the secretaries. These are two positions that keep schools running with precision, and were they to leave, education would be in deep trouble.
So when Joe, the custodian, came to my room that afternoon, he stopped momentarily at the sight of all the bears occupying the seats, looked at me, and then said with a straight face, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were teaching night class as well.” I laughed til I cried. Joe was a short, Italian man with a heavy accent who was always in a good mood. His banter was the icing on the cake of a very rewarding day.
And so the day of the school-wide assembly arrived. My late husband, who was my biggest cheerleader, had purchased a sweat shirt with a teddy bear on the front. He had the art teacher paint “Mama Bear” on the back, and he gave it to me that morning to wear to the assembly. First round of tears.
As I watched a representative of each group bring his or her bear and wrapped gifts to the stage and present them, I was overcome by what I was seeing – the real meaning of Christmas. Two students narrated the assembly program, and at the end of the program, previously unknown to me, called me to the stage to speak. I had held back tears throughout the program, although I was very close several times.
I hesitated and almost declined, but then realized I needed to convey my gratitude to the entire school population, faculty too, because I knew so many had contributed to make this successful.
I got to the microphone and began to speak, and as might be expected, the tears arrived. I did manage to express how deeply I felt about this project and the wonderful kids that made it happen.
I will conclude by saying that a principal came to me as I left the stage to laughingly tell me that my persona as a hard-nosed (I am cleaning up his verbiage) teacher was shattered, never to be regained again.
I could live with that.
Carol Lucas is a retired high school teacher and a Lady’s Island resident. She is the author of the recently published “A Breath Away: One Woman’s Journey Through Widowhood.”
