Balloons bright up other side of the mountain

We released 200 balloons. There was squealing and laughter, jostling for who could hold their balloon the highest, who could hold out the longest before letting go.

1-2-3-4-5, GO!

Little fingers opened, reaching to the sky and the cheering began. All eyes looked up as 200 balloons punctuated our celebration of the end of testing, the conclusion to the long, windy days of winter and the accomplishments of the year. The thundering feet began slowly at first, then rumbled into an all-out stampede of kids across the playground and out to the field. Balloon chasers, every one.

Sometimes teaching can feel like being the bear going over the mountain. All that you can see is the other side of the mountain. More of the same — more scheduling conflicts, more testing, more classroom behavior issues, more mandates, more rushing and less time to actually teach. It really can feel like finding the other side of the mountain day in and day out. But there are those unique moments, too. In education we call them teachable moments. Our balloon release was born of one of those moments.

Last winter, during yet another day of indoor recess with bitterly cold temperatures and wind to rival the howling of wolves, I found myself in the hallway outside my classroom with three fifth-grade girls. Our conversation bounced around, eventually landing on a huge wall map of Alaska partially covered with study carrels.

“Why does that map have strings all over it, Mrs. Powell?”

“Well, let me show you girls …”

And so it began. A teachable moment. An opportunity to teach and to learn in the context of true wonder and genuine curiosity. The wall map documented a long-gone tradition at our school of releasing balloons in the spring to celebrate student successes. The case covering the map held letters, envelopes and other artifacts from those who had found the balloons. The letters recalled where the balloons were found and how they came to the letter-writers. Some had bits of the balloon attached; one, found by a fishing boat off Kodiak Island, had fishing hooks enclosed.

“Why don’t we do this anymore? We should do this Mrs. Powell!”

“If you’re interested and excited about this girls, you should put some thought into it. Think it over, talk with one another and present your idea to the principal. You never know.”

And so they did. The three of them brought the idea to our principal, and it was that idea — that conversation, that teachable moment — that sparked the enthusiastic gathering of 200 children at the top of the hill in front of our school on a chilly spring afternoon full of sunshine.

Sometimes, teaching can feel like just seeing the other side of the mountain. It can feel scripted and like the outcome is more important than the process. It can feel that way a lot. It’s the teachable moments, the occasions where questions lead to more questions and eventually to understanding that make the other side of the mountain feel not so shrouded in shadow. Genuine wonder and conversation always shine brightly.

We released 200 balloons. There was squealing and laughter, jostling for who could hold their balloons the highest; who could hold out the longest before letting go. In 14 years as an educator it’s been one of my most joyful moments, partially because even the longest winter cannot dull the joy of 200 excited elementary-aged kids and partially because I was lucky enough to be present when the spark of the idea came to life. Mostly, it’s because on that day 200 brilliantly colored balloons made the other side of the mountain feel like the brightest, sunniest peak in the world.

Vanessa Powell is a National Board Certified fifth-grade teacher at Snowshoe Elementary School.