The birthday problem

I’ve never liked singing “Happy Birthday” — I think it’s a cheesy, awkward song. But to children, a birthday is a day when everyone is supposed to be nice to you, and the birthday song is a moment to enjoy being showered with attention.

I learned how important birthdays are to young children during the first week of my first year of teaching. It was one of Tina’s first birthdays since being adopted, and her mom, who worked at my school, asked if I could do a little something to make the day special for her. I remember Tina’s excitement at handing out cupcakes and her asking when we were going to sing. Understanding what is important to kids helps you connect with them and create a classroom of respect and trust, where students feel safe taking risks and learning. So OK, let’s do birthdays, even if they’re cheesy.

The software we used to take attendance helped me out by showing a candle next to someone’s name if their birthday was coming up. Whenever I saw the candle, I’d have a moment of panic, worrying that I’d forget to stock the prize box with cool toys or let the birthday kid down by failing to set aside enough time in the day for a mini-celebration. But, eventually, I got that birthday thing down. I made a little tradition where the birthday kid could pick any game to play in class (usually Seven Up or Simon Says) and even pick a Kidz Bop song to play on YouTube, prompting everybody to dance. I also started making “birthday bags,” filled with trinkets and candy, that I could give to the lucky student just before dismissal, as we sang the birthday song.

Then, on the first Friday of the 2021-22 school year, it happened.

An accidental oversight

As the class and I sat down to review the calendar and the day’s schedule, I noticed that Casey’s birthday was that weekend, but she was absent. She came in later, but, by then, her birthday had totally slipped my mind, and surprisingly, she didn’t mention it.

Around 2:00, the school secretary came by with an envelope for me and didn’t say what it was. At the time, the classroom was more hectic than usual. Several girls were crying for an unknown reason. A boy was on YouTube instead of the math site we were supposed to be using. The school custodian had just come in to let me know he caught two girls throwing paper towels all over the restroom. Dismissal time was 45 minutes away, so, assuming the message was related to an upcoming staff meeting, I set the envelope aside to look at later and returned to monitoring my students.

In those chaotic final minutes of class, I calmed the crying girls and helped them talk through their feelings. I directed the girls in the restroom to clean up their mess and told the class that such behavior is not acceptable. And I clarified that avoiding work by watching YouTube would result in a call home, and any missed work would have to be made up during a break time. On top of that, I coordinated our usual end-of-week routine, which involved picking class jobs for the next week, celebrating the wonderful writing work we completed, and cleaning our desks.

Finally, the students were dismissed, and I walked them outside to wait to be picked up. That’s when Casey walked back over to me with her mom, who asked, “Did you get to hand out those birthday invitations?”

My stomach dropped. Of course. The envelope. But why didn’t Casey mention it was her birthday this morning, when we looked at the calendar? Oh, right. She came in late today. And it slipped my mind. Oops.

I had failed by letting Casey down on her special day.

I did the only thing I could do: I apologized, ran back to get them, and helped Casey hand out the invitations to all the girls still waiting to be picked up. I promised Casey and her mom that we would sing “Happy Birthday” and give her the birthday bag on Monday.

But I felt like a failure. Even though we finished our writing projects for the week, had a wonderfully successful math lesson that morning, and lined up quickly after all of our outdoor break times, I had failed by letting Casey down on her special day.

Reflection and responsibility

As I fretted over my mistake, a non-teacher friend tried to reassure me that the situation wasn’t my fault. The parent didn’t send me an email. The student didn’t know she was supposed to hand the invitations out. They landed on my desk at 2:00 on a Friday afternoon. Besides, it’s not my job to celebrate each child’s birthday. Birthdays aren’t part of the academic curriculum, so why should it be my responsibility? Personally, I’m conflicted on this point.

I should point out that Casey’s parents did not blame me (at least, not to my face), and Casey herself didn’t seem all that bothered. On Monday, when I was supposed to make it up to her, Casey was absent, but when she finally came to school on Wednesday, she reminded me to sing “Happy Birthday” for her several times throughout the school day. Even when I was teaching. Especially when she was supposed to be working on something. So she did get to be the center of attention and have her celebration.

Still, I’m left wondering what a teacher’s responsibility should be. Obviously, we are supposed to teach math, reading, writing, and so on. And we have to do what we can to promote good learning habits and behavior, including taking turns, teamwork, and organization — whatever can keep the classroom running smoothly and help kids learn. But where do we draw the line between teaching and parenting? I have several students who can’t tie their shoes. Should I set time aside to teach them? It would be nice of me to do so, but is it my job?

The truth is, teaching is a complicated and multifaceted endeavor. Some kids may need a little extra attention because their parents don’t have the time to, say, help them learn to tie their shoes. And celebrating special moments together can help make a classroom a place where children want to be, where they feel valued and appreciated. There are very good reasons to expand our focus beyond reading, writing, and math. Most of us went into the profession out of a love for children, and we want to do right by them. It’s natural that some of us will even try to do too much.

At the same time, we have to recognize that we are bound to slip up and let our students down sometimes, especially when we’re trying to do everything. No matter how many birthday candle alerts we have on our calendars, sometimes the chaos of a Friday afternoon will take precedence. When that happens, we can’t beat ourselves up over the things we can’t control. We need to find joy in what we could accomplish today, and move on to the next birthday.

This article appears in the April 2022 issue of Kappan, Vol. 103, No. 7, pp. 56-57.