I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
—Mary Oliver “The Summer Day”
I was meditating on this passage recently, on a day known as “Blue Thursday,” a day that comes every other week at our school. My Blue Thursdays are packed and routinely challenge both my capacity to be present and my ability to pivot with a modicum of grace. A recent Blue Thursday was a potent reminder of how a single day can offer lessons on the delicate art of presence. It reminded me again of how to model the power of “Yes,” and the importance of kneeling down in the grass with and for one’s students.
This Blue Thursday began at 7 a.m. with thirty bleary-eyed students who arrived at school very early to make sandwiches for a local organization. This was part of a student-led initiative addressing UN Global Goal #2: Zero Hunger. The student organizer asked if I could encourage the volunteers to write positive notes to tape on the sandwich baggies.
“Yes, of course.”
Then, she noted, “We should start counting the sandwiches and cleaning up.” Although I was thinking the same thing, I didn’t have to suggest it; in that moment, I saw in her a confidence that reflected growth and commitment to something beyond herself. We wiped the tables free of jelly and peanut butter, and a student who rarely speaks but has a lot to say remarked, “I feel guilty seeing all of the trash half-eaten after this.”
Awkward silence followed, along with a shared acknowledgement that waste is an issue. Another student then reminded me that it was “Lights-out Thursday,” a program established by two seniors aimed to reduce our energy use. She asked if I had time to walk the halls of the school with her, to remind our community to turn off classroom lights whenever possible on Blue Thursdays.
“Yes, of course.”
As I walked through the halls with two beloved students whose determination and mindfulness make our school a more sustainable community, I crossed paths with one of my students leaving for a field trip. She asked if I could reprint materials for her because she had modified her “Strength in Sisterhood” activity that is a part of her senior capstone. Her participants are fourth- and fifth-grade girls from St. Paul’s School for Girls and Baltimore City schools. Girls voluntarily spend their after-school Thursdays bonding over art lessons and building friendships.
“Yes, of course,” I replied, then asked, “Do you have everything you need for tonight?” —knowing she was ready to reach young minds in meaningful ways.
“I’m ready and excited,” she said in her birdsong voice, before floating down the hall toward the exit. A small moment — but one that reflected the work we do to bolster our students’ sense of agency.
In my first period, a thoughtful student asked for an extension on a project because she needed time to process the assignment. New to the community, she is struggling to find her stride.
I said, “Yes, and let’s talk about the challenges.” As we sat on the floor pillows in my classroom, she articulated what she understood and what she didn’t. I listened, and in that moment of shared presence, she realized she understood more than she thought.
My second class, inspired by the sandwich making, asked if we could do something to decrease food waste in our school.
I said, “Yes, and let’s brainstorm together.” Immediately, I decided to put aside the day’s plans, because there are many moments when we must embrace the present need over the plans we make. We say “Yes” because these spontaneous occasions are empowering. During our lively brainstorming session, the school counselor pulled me out of class about an advisee. Did I have time to meet with the student to develop a plan moving forward?
“Yes, of course.”
I returned to class, and we continued brainstorming on the desks in a rainbow of Expo markers. In these moments, students’ passion for change is palpable. Learning is purposeful and effortless.
As class ended, my troubled advisee came to me in tears, asking for the “soft tissues” and a moment to sit on the pillows.
“Yes, of course,” I said. “We will sit together as many times as you need to process your pain.”
As we sat, I considered how my floor pillows deserve credit for the many times students have used them to study, work together, and process hard things. They are a place of belonging, where students can sit “idle and blessed.”
My third class poured en masse into my classroom, full of excitement to collaborate in peer groups. One group grappled with project development; as I circled the room, a student tentatively asked, “Ms. North, can I combine these two ideas?”
“Yes, you can, but tell me how.”
Fourteen cohort members leapt into the discussion, and I was reminded of the saying, “The community you help to build is the community you deserve.”
In my final class that day, one student had been accepted into a Harvard case study; another was preparing for an interview with a famous athlete. To settle her nerves, she took to bouncing a ball against a wall while singing “Defying Gravity” confidently out of tune, sharing her singular energy with her classmates.
Although the lights were off and the day was gray, students brought the sunshine. When they are offered the space to embrace the present and find belonging, students flourish — just as the light of a summer day shifts and encourages us to stay present and watch the growth around us.
Moments in between are an accumulation of learning well-lived and an acknowledgement of the small instances of Mary Oliver’s invocation to lean into the world, “which is what I have been doing all day.”
At the end of this Blue Thursday, I popped back into my classroom. The same student who had been belting out “Defying Gravity” wrote a message on my board: “The zoom with her was AMAZING!” Together, with her peers tomorrow, we will have more moments to fall down, pay attention, listen, and kneel in the grass together, idle and blessed to live this wild and precious life.
“Yes, of course.”
