3 miles: 

This fine Monday was certainly more dismal than usual. In fact, I could tell when the students came in that their faces were weary, they were tired and something just seemed a bit off. As my hunches usually tell me, I shortly received a note from one of my stuents about losing his/her cat and then seconds later one of my students reported the death of her fish. This student had also just lost someone close to her a few weeks back and she looked at me and said, "Mrs. Amoscato. All around this has been a pretty rough month. I feel like everyday I lose something else."

And so in the midst of reading a Dr. Seuss book about "pets," we just stopped to tell all of our pet stories near and far (many of them bringing up this topic of death.) And as I looked at the clock realizing my grammar lesson was supposed to be continuing at this very moment, I realized that grammar really doesn't matter if the people around you are hurting. And so we talked about all the questions that are usually quite pressing such as 

Do you think my pet is feeling better somewhere else?

Is there such thing as a pet heaven?

How do I remember a pet without feeling so very sad all the time?

For whatever reason, I felt like Mr. Rogers was sitting on my shoulder during this lesson. I could hear him whispering in my ear saying: let them ask the questions they need to ask and say what they need to say. Remind them their pets have hearts too and that memories never fade. Remind them that even though their pet may be gone, it can never be replaced.

Taking time for Dr. Seuss is important. Taking time to talk about what is bothering a few students at once is equally as important. Reminding a child it is okay to be sad is even more important than all the rest. And certainly more important than perhaps what was planned in that ten minutes of time where you were supposed to be teaching something else. Some teachable moment-if not caught quickly-will simply fly away in the wind.