Today was indeed a day for big goodbyes.
No doubt the Fab 4’s and 5’s families will have heard some variation of this story, or it will crop up at some point.
This morning, the first children to arrive on the playground found me, shovel in hand, digging a hole.
“Ms. Jennifer, why are you digging a hole?” they asked, separately and together.
To each query, I answered that I would tell them all about it when enough children had arrived.
It was a hot morning, and everyone straggled in for our final day. When we had greater than half the group, we went inside and gathered in our usual morning circle. I told the children that over the weekend Mojo, our class parakeet, had died. I don’t know how it happened, only that on Monday, I found the cage with only Juliet, tightly shut. I searched the room for a note, because in the past, church members have sometimes come across one of our animals dead and they’ve been kind enough to give them a burial and leave me a note about it. No note. Pam T. arrived and together we tried out some possibilities for how the bird could be missing. Pam’s ear picked up a sound, and there, under the stairs that Lara so beautifully painted for us, was a wounded and struggling Mojo. He appeared to have a broken wing, and in fact, had some blood surrounding a puncture in his wing. He wasn’t holding his head correctly and his beak looked mangled. I picked him up and gently put him back into the cage. Pam and I were working on the rooms and when I checked on him a few minutes later, once again, Mojo was on the floor. Apparently, he squeezed out through the opening between the bottom and sides of the cage. Whether this is what caused his injuries, I’ll never know.
We picked him up and put him in a box with newspaper and seed and water. He ate and drank and seemed to revive a little. Pam, with her infinite connections, contacted two friends of hers who were ornithologists and/or vets. She took Mojo home and took him to see the ornithologist, who told her Mojo needed an x-ray. She made an appointment with her vet friend for Tuesday after school. She brought Mojo back to school Tuesday morning but he didn’t live to make it to the vet. She called me as soon as my class had all left my house on Tuesday.
Back to this morning’s circle…I had put Mojo in a little box and one of the children asked to see him. I told them all they could, but to think about it first, since it was a sad sight. I walked around the circle with the box, and cautioned the children who didn’t want to see to put their heads down on their knees. They all chose to say their goodbyes to Mojo, with some variation of “I’ll miss you Mojo” or “I love you, Mojo”. My heart was full. We began to talk about burying him and they all wanted to bury him with things or to mark his final resting place. We began to read “Saying Goodbye to Lulu” a poignant tale of a girl’s dog dying and how she watched him decline and laid him to rest with a dirty sock from each family member tucked inside his coffin so he’d take comfort in their scents. We were interrupted by a very long and hot evacuation of the building because there was a burning plastic smell in the PBMS building.
When we were able to return to our classroom, Dale and Nelle had joined us and Lilo was ready to do one last music circle with us. We told him our pet bird had died and we’d like a song to sing as we put him to rest. Lilo immediately began strumming his guitar and singing…
Mojo, where is your nest?
Mojo, where is your nest?
Mojo, where is your nest?
In the tree I love the best.
During play time, Andrew found one of Juliet’s feathers on the floor and we tucked it in the box with Mojo. We carried him out after lunch and placed the box in the hole I had dug, under the bush in the corner by the crazy daisy, a small patch of wild strawberries flourishing nearby. Some of the children helped to refill the hole. Some gathered stones and wood chips to mark the sacred site. Some just watched. We all sang…
Mojo, where is your nest?
Mojo, where is your nest?
Mojo, where is your nest?
In the tree I love the best.
I have never been so moved or so honored to be part of such a tender celebration, not of death, but of life and compassion and the sadness you feel when a friend is gone. The gentle voices comforted us all as we mourned.
I share this story so you’ll know the profound loss we felt, and also the closure we fashioned. I share this story because in the past, when one of our class pets has died, I spared the children the sordid details of burial and informed them after the fact. I discovered today that there is a need to be part of the process. A need for all of us. And they knew just what to do and how it should be done.
I am grateful that last week, the May issue of a CD-rom magazine the staff has subscribed to, Starting in a Corner, by Bev Bos, arrived in my mailbox. I watched it and one of the segments was on the classroom pet cemetery and funeral rites of passage at Bev’s Roseville School, where Janise is fortunate enough to be visiting this July as part of her professional development sabbatical. I did not know as I watched it, how quickly I would be inspired by what I’d watched. And how once again, Bev Bos, who also introduced me to the book, Saying Goodbye to Lulu, got it right about what kids (and adults) need.
And I share this because today a parent confided that their family dog is ill and because in the past people have asked for resources about losing pets. I discovered the splendor of including children in the goodbye process today and I think it was much better than protecting them and shielding them. They have colossal hearts and they are blessed with remarkable resiliency. They guided me in an astounding way. I only needed to listen.
And so this very final goodbye to Mojo overshadowed the otherwise overwhelming goodbyes to 16 precious friends. I love you, I’ll miss you, and rather than goodbye, I hope I can say “I’ll see you soon!” It has been a joy to share the year with you.
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