God’s Eyes (This is No Yarn!)

Posted by Sharon Blumberg in HandPrints Stories & Videos | 1 comment

Copyright Sharon Blumberg

Best laid plans gone awry would be an understatement to describe this memorable event from a Spanish teacher of seventeen years. Well, that is what almost happened on this wintery afternoon about 16 years ago. As a seventh grade Spanish teacher, for about five consecutive years, and even as a substitute teacher, I enjoyed doing a fun, hands-on, craft project with my students. We did this the day before winter vacation commenced.

With this colorful Hispanic craft, my previous students wound yarn strands around two wooden craft sticks they glued together the previous day. Although commonly practiced in Africa and the East, this Hispanic craft derived from the native peoples of Central and South America. The Huichol Indians of Mexico and the Aymara Indians of Bolivia were people who crafted this design. It is called “Ojos de Dios,” or “Eyes of God,” in English. Originally “God’s Eyes” were made to be placed on an alter so that the gods could watch over the praying people and protect them. In Hispanic tradition, “God’s Eyes” are traditionally given to a family upon the birth of a child. This is to insure good luck for the baby’s well-being in life. In addition, these crafts can be used as winter holiday decorations.

Photo credit willowpoppy

Meanwhile, with about three hundred wooden craft sticks and twenty, bundles of colorful yarn, for my classes, students eagerly occupied themselves by working on this activity. Students moved about the classroom, asking me or their classmates for assistance as they worked on the winding technique of the project. As each student approached me, I cut about an arm’s length of yarn. Everyone was anxious to begin.

“Mrs. Blumberg, could you help me, I’m not sure how to do this project.”

“Sure Mike, you have to twist these two strands of yarn around in this rotating fashion, just like this, see?”

“Wow, that is really cool! I’m really making one! I’m going to make an extra one for you, Mrs. Blumberg. Can I make more than one?”

“Sure you can, Mike, there should be enough yarn for all of you to make more than one project, go ahead.”

Photo credit judy_jowers

Even some of my most challenging students, requested in the sweetest way, my individual attention and guidance. At the onset of the period, things seemed to be going pretty well. I was so engrossed in standing, cutting yarn and guiding students, that I did not take notice of my surroundings. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on my part, to not want to discover what lay before me. Students displayed such excitement with their creations, that all I could do was indulge their enthusiastic energies.

Fortunately, this class happened to be my last class of the day. In the class prevailed a number of personalities that one could say were challenging and mischievous. But nonetheless, in the spirit of giving, I wished to share this activity with all my classes.

Later on into the period, once I looked around the room, I could not believe my eyes as I witnessed the spectacle the
at had unfolded. Yarn of various colors intertwined itself throughout the room. It looked as if an exotic sea creature wrapped its tentacles around every desk and chair it could reach. By the end of the class period, the room was so grossly entangled that one girl encountered some difficulty, stepping over strands of yarn trying to exit through the doorway.

Sharon Blumberg

The principal stopped by my classroom door after school as he peered in with an angry gaze. He muttered, “There is yarn all over the hall and lockers.” Then he vanished as quickly as he appeared.

I peered moments later into the hallway, but students must have already grabbed some of the yarn to play with because the corridor looked fine. However, my room took on a different appearance. I did not know where I would begin with the cleanup process. All kinds of thoughts went through my mind. Why did I even do this with students who are so ungrateful? I’ll never do this again, if this is the kind of thing that will happen. Kids this age don’t appreciate anything. Why do I even bother?

As the school bell signified the beginning of winter break, talkative students’ mouths gaped with shock as they sauntered by my classroom. Cries of “wow, look at that!” permeated like echoes throughout the long corridor. Students stared with looks of amazement at the entangled mess.

Photo credit assassindwntheavenue

Meanwhile, one of my students from one of my earlier classes in the day took notice of the scene immediately. He was like the rare miracle boom on the barren cactus.

“Mrs. Blumberg, “what happened to the room? Do you need some help cleaning it up?”

“Why Jeff, I don’t want to keep you after school. You will miss your bus. I will be fine, but thanks for asking me”

“Don’t’ worry, I walk home. I really want to help you. You are such a nice teacher. This will be a lot of work for you to clean up by yourself!”

“Well, alright, but call your mom first to let her know what you are doing.”

Jeff called his mom and got permission to help me clean up the mess, while sacrificing precious vacation time. It was obvious that Jeff did not have to wait in line for this wonderful honor. Through our mutual efforts we accomplished the feat in less time, than if I had done it by myself.

“Jeff’s kindness left me with a holiday gift that today remains unrivaled. As a young teacher in the early part of my teaching career, I learned a lot that day. I learned that there are students who care, and truly appreciate your efforts. I was indeed in the right career path. Therefore, I have to continue to give my 200 % to my future students. I pleasantly discovered it will be noticed. One day with best laid plans gone awry should not determine my teaching career. I once heard a quote that says when a tree is threatened by the elements, it twists beneath its bark to make itself stronger. These are the kinds of experiences that make us stronger so we can learn from them. However, the dust-laden bags of abandoned yarn resting in the corners of my basement, remind me to carefully reevaluate my methods, if I ever do this project again.