You don’t have to spend a lot of money on incentives; self-made certificates can be more effective than anything else.
Twenty years ago, I when I was an aide at the school I work at now, I used to manage the Writing To Read Computer Lab. I was just 18-years-old and could not afford expensive and fancy incentives for the 130 students that came to my lab, therefore I made certificates on the computer. Every Friday I would give 5 certificates to those students who showed some growth or finished a specific journal. There was a special girl who came from a poor immigrant family who lived across from the school. She was in 1st grade when she came to my lab. Of course, she was one of the certificate receiver (they all were, sooner or later).
Seventeen years later, I was invited to her wedding ceremony, held at her small house. As I walked in the door, I was in awe to see her hall of fame. Between her high school and university degrees, in the biggest frame, was the faded, old Writing To Read certificate! I could not believe my eyes, seventeen years later and she still had the certificate I had given her. (Well, I shouldn’t be shocked, I am currently 38 years old and still have my elementary school certificates.)
Her mother later told me that she treasured that certificate more than any other because that was the one that gave her the confidence and strength to continue with her studies.
At that time, I realized that candy, stickers, and other fancy incentives work well for the moment, but nothing like something written on paper to make a lifetime impact. Plus, let’s face it, on a teacher’s salary, I still can’t afford the expensive, fancy incentives. Nonetheless, nothing could be more rewarding than knowing that you made a difference in at least one student’s life. That is the best pay one could receive.
Keep empowering students!
Category: Stories
A young couple moves into a new neighborhood.
The next morning, while they are eating breakfast, the young woman sees her neighbor hanging the laundry outside and says “Her laundry is not very clean; she doesn’t know how to wash correctly, perhaps she needs better laundry soap.”
Her husband looks on, remaining silent. Every time her neighbor hangs her laundry to dry, the young woman makes the same comments.
A month later, the woman is surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and says to her husband: “Look, she’s finally learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this?” The husband replied, “I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows.”
And so it is with life. What we see when looking at others depends on the state of the window through which we look.
Once a farmer found an abandoned eagle’s nest and in it was an egg still warm.
He took the egg back to his farm and laid it in the nest of one of his hens. The egg hatched and the baby eagle grew up along with the other chickens. It pecked about the farmyard, scrabbling for grain. It spent its life within the yard and rarely looked up.
When it was very old, one day it lifted up its head and saw above it a wonderful sight – an eagle soaring high above in the sky. Looking at it, the old creature sighed and said to itself, “If only I’d been born an eagle”.
God and the devil are walking down a street when God suddenly bends down to pick something up.
“What’s that?” asks the devil. “It’s The Truth” replies God.
“Let me have it,” says the devil “I’ll organise it for you”
A man is captured by enemies and thrown into prison. That night he is unable to sleep because he fears that the next day he will be interrogated, tortured, and executed. Then the words of his teacher come to him, “Tomorrow is not real. It is an illusion. The only reality is now.” Heeding these words he becomes peaceful and falls asleep.
The Ant and the Grasshopper
from Æsop’s Fables
One day an ass, upon hearing some grasshoppers chirping, was enchanted by their song and desired to possess the ability to sing as they did. He went to them and asked what sort of food they lived on that gave them such beautiful voices. The grasshoppers replied, “We live on the dew.” The ass resolved that from that moment forward he would live only upon dew, and soon died of hunger.
(Be careful whom you pick to model)
Once there was a tree and she loved a little boy.
And every day the boy would come, and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches and eat apples. And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree… very much.
But time went by and the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone. Then one day the boy came back to the tree and the tree said, “Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat my apples and play in my shade and be happy.“
“I am too big to climb and play,” said the boy.
“I want to buy things and have fun. I want some money. Can you give me some money?“
“I’m sorry,” said the tree, “but I have no money. I have only leaves and apples. Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in the city. Then you will have money and you will be happy.”
And so the boy climbed up the tree and gathered her apples and carried them away. And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time . . . and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back and the tree shook with joy and she said, “Come, Boy, climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and be happy.“
“I am too busy to climb trees,” said the boy.
“I want a house to keep me warm,” he said.
“I want a wife and I want children, and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house?”
“I have no house,” said the tree.
“The forest is my house, but you may cut off my branches and build a house. Then you will be happy.”
And so the boy cut off her branches and carried them away to build his house. And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back, the tree was so happy she could hardly speak. “Come, Boy,” she whispered, “come and play.”
“I am too old and sad to play,” said the boy.
“I want a boat that will take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?”
“Cut down my trunk and make a boat,” said the tree.
“Then you can sail away . . . and be happy.” And so the boy cut down her trunk and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy… but not really.
And after a long time the boy came back again.
“I am sorry, Boy,” said the tree, “but I have nothing left to give you –My apples are gone.”
“My teeth are too weak for apples,” said the boy.
“My branches are gone,” said the tree.
“You cannot swing on them”
“I am too old to swing on branches,” said the boy.
“My trunk is gone,” said the tree.
“You cannot climb”
“I am too tired to climb,” said the boy.
“I am sorry,” signed the tree. “I wish that I could give you something… but I have nothing left. I am just an old stump. I am sorry…”
I don’t need very much now,” said the boy, “just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired.”
“Well,” said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, “an old stump is good for sitting and resting.
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.”
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
A traveller comes across a swollen river that he needs to cross but the current is too strong for swimming. He builds a raft that carries him safely over. On arrival at the far bank he picks up the raft and carries it on his back for the rest of his life in case he has to cross another swollen river.
You were on your way home when you died. It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children.
It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked.
“Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words. “There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said. “I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me.
“What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?” Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said.
“You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void.
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked.
“When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders.
“Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had. You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. And in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?” “Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye.
“The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said.
“In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me.
“But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?” “And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered.
“Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.
One day a traveler was walking along a road on his journey from one village to another.
As he walked he noticed a monk tilling the ground in the fields beside the road. The monk said “Good day” to the traveler and the traveler nodded to the monk.
The traveler then turned to the monk and said, “Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Not at all,” replied the monk.
“I am traveling from the village in the mountains to the village in the valley and I was wondering if you knew what it is like in the village in the valley?”
“Tell me,” said the monk. “What was your experience of the village in the mountains?”
“Dreadful,” replied the traveler.
“To be honest I am glad to be away from there. I found the people most unwelcoming. When I first arrived I was greeted coldly. I was never made to feel a part of the village no matter how hard I tried. The villagers keep very much to themselves; they don’t take kindly to strangers. So tell me, what can I expect in the village in the valley?”
“I’m sorry to tell you,” said the monk, “but I think your experience will be much the same there.”
The traveler hung his head despondently and walked on. A few months later another traveler was journeying down the same road and he also came upon the monk.
“Good day,” said the traveler.
“Good day,” said the monk.
“How are you?” asked the traveler.
“I’m well,” replied the monk. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to the village in the valley,” replied the traveler.
“Do you know what it is like?”
“I do,” replied the monk. “But first, tell me, where have you come from?”
“I’ve come from the village in the mountains.”
“And how was that?”
“It was a wonderful experience. I would have stayed if I could but I am committed to traveling on. I felt as though I were a member of the family in the village. The elders gave me much advice, the children laughed and joked with me, and the people generally were kind and generous. I am sad to have left there. It will always hold special memories for me. And what of the village in the valley?” he asked again.
“I think you will find it much the same,” replied the monk. “Good day to you.”
“Good day and thank you,” replied the traveler, smiled, and journeyed on.