FIRST GRADE YOGA

I volunteer in my granddaughter's first grade classroom every Wednesday morning.  I do one-on-one time with the kids, helping with reading, learning their "sight words" (those impossible to sound out phonetically), and math.   At 6 and 7 years old, they are still innocent and fresh enough with the whole school experience, that they are eager for every activity, are happy and engaged, and think I am the best part of their day!  It's a great ego-boost to get their smiles, waves, and hugs as they enter the classroom to find me there at my "desk" -- a small table in the back of the room.

The school is in a neighborhood of culturally diverse families, many new to the United States, and none of higher socio-economic status (yet).   They live in modest homes and apartments, work hard, and are eager for their children to get a good education.  I am delighted to be there to be part of their educational experiences.  It brings back my own "PTA Mom" days when the local elementary school was my second home.

There are three Arabic-speaking children in the class who are trying to teach me simple phrases, like "good morning", "have a nice day", "hello", etc.  They laugh at my garbled attempts.  One little boy told me he can speak three languages: English, Russian, and Ukrainian.  "Ukraine is the hardest," he declared.  Overhearing this, a little girl said she speaks English and Spanish.  I am so amazed at the ease with which they shift from one language to another and the potential we have in such linguistic experts ready to grow into adults who can navigate and assist in our increasingly diverse world!

At the end of the morning in the classroom, as I prepare to leave, the kids are generally lining up for lunch in the cafeteria.  Without fail, they want me to come along with them to eat lunch then go to recess.  These past several weeks I've declined because I've been taking Elizabeth's Wednesday afternoon's "Yoga Therapy for Emotional Health" class and have to leave school to get to class on time.

A few weeks ago, as the kids stood in line begging me to come along, I said, "No, sorry; I'm going to my yoga class."  And for some reason I bowed with my hands together at my heart and said, "Namaste."  Immediately one little boy, who barely speaks English at all, suddenly smiled a huge smile, bowed to me in turn and said "Namaste!!!"  I had struck a familiar chord with him.  I was stumped that this recent arrival from Iraq was so excited about this expression, so I turned to "Google" and found that many Hindi words have Arabic origins!  I had stumbled upon a word he was delighted to hear and to repeat to me.  Now every time he sees me, we bow in "Namaste" to each other.

Last week as class ended, I heard the same invitations to come to lunch, and reminded them I was on my way to Yoga class, and this time I moved into tree pose as I talked to them.  Immediately about 6-7 kids imitated me, boys and girls alike, giggling as they stood like trees with me just before leaving for lunch.

I am amazed at how yoga can be a universal language, a way to connect, a way to find commonality across age, culture, and class.  Yoga is life.

Namaste...donnajurene

Photo Credit: Pixabay.com