The Banana Peel Rule

It was one of those hectic mornings (Weren’t they all?) at the urban preschool/kindergarten where I was an administrator.  It was Music Day for the 4-year-old classes.  Schools often label those breaks in the daily routines as Specials and so they are: Special times when a class of exuberant children travels the hallways to a special room with a special teacher, be it Art, P.E., Library, or… Music.  Even though music in the form of circle-time fingerplays and songs, melodic clean-up routines, impromptu dances, and much more were a daily part of preschool life, Music Day was always a treat.  In that magical space called the Music Room, a gifted teacher unveiled her cart full of rhythm band instruments, gauzy scarves, and ribbon sticks. Accompanied by carefully selected tunes, she welcomed the children with a fast-paced, 30-minute dive into the joyful world of music. There was only one drawback to this highly anticipated event. Children were often kept waiting in the hallway for a few minutes until the door to the music room opened and Ms. Mary invited them inside.

Waiting?  Did I say waiting, a concept not high on the to-do lists of young children?  The lag time between arriving at the Music Room door and the beginning of class was seldom more than five or six minutes, but to a lively group of preschoolers eagerly anticipating their Special, it could seem an eternity.  That morning, a group of 18 four-year-olds was waiting not very patiently for their turn to enter the Music Room.  The wide hallway wasn’t quite wide enough to accommodate the legs and arms of wriggling children who were doing the things that young children do: lying down (or standing up), punching nearby friends, giggling and squirming, with a little yelling thrown in for good measure.  The noise level was quickly growing.  I was sometimes called upon for “crowd control” to remind the children of their hallway manners in order to minimize disturbance of nearby classes and I was quickly summoned from my office.  After quieting the children down (somewhat), using my best “principal’s voice”, I asked them to remind me of our school’s rules for hallway etiquette.  With hands eagerly waving in the air, several children offered up rules as I called on the young scholars one by one:

Don’t run —And its more positive spin –Walk in the hallway.

Talk with a quiet voice— And its more negative spin– Don’t yell.

Don’t hit your friends– And its more positive framing– Keep your hands to yourself.

The expected answers flowed on. Everyone, it seemed, knew the rules even if following them was a challenge. Jeremy, however, was not quite satisfied with the plethora of mundane rules that were being spouted by his classmates, and he  continued to wave his hand enthusiastically. When I finally called on him, he proudly contributed this rule:

Don’t throw a banana peel on the floor, because someone might slip.

Hmmm. 

Now conformity and cooperation can be good things, but affirmation and creativity are also important. I declined to correct Jeremy or to amend his rule to one that more closely fit the situation.  Instead, I thanked him for reminding us about the importance of safety. Just a minute or so later, the door opened, and the class bumbled, hopped and ran (just a little bit!) into the room. Music class ensued

Time has passed, and I’ve forgotten many details of those hallway encounters, though the typical rules the children shared are still part of current schools’ quests for order.  The memory of that specific autumn day, however, remains crystal clear.  I easily recall the wisdom embedded in a four-year-old’s version of what’s important in school–and in truth– in life as well.  Underneath Jeremy’s seemingly random thoughts, something deeper, simpler and timely lingers. Like those young children, I wave my hand, wanting to eagerly contribute a list of Banana Peel-type rules of my own:

Don’t deliberately put others in harm’s way.

Watch where you step.

Warn others if they are headed for trouble.

Even simple acts have consequences.

Take care of your own stuff.

Kindness, taking care, tending to the little things that are not so little after all, prioritizing safety–These are noble ideals that stand the test of time. All continue to instruct us in these noisy, chaotic times. Today I choose to abandon this rather cumbersome list and settle on the clear, crystal clear, wisdom first offered from the heart of a small child, and now, offered to you (accompanied by a small painting from my art calendar).

The Banana Peel Rule:

We’re all in this hallway (world) together.  Let’s do the best we can to make it a safe place.

O God of children, teachers, music, bananas and their peels, I pray for careful consideration as I move through this world full of detours and hazards both real and imagined. May kindness rule my words, may I watch where I am heading, and may I do all I can to gently remind others around me to do the same. May The Banana Peel Rule be my guide. Amen. (And thanks, Jeremy)

And now, my friends, all that is true, all that is noble, all that is just and pure, all that is lovable and gracious, whatever is excellent and admirable- fill all your thoughts with these things. Philippians 4: 8-9.  New English Bible