I was confused as to why Rocky, the gerbil, had died. When I looked at the gerbil, Road, he didn’t look too good either. So, here we sat—18 1st and 2nd graders and myself looking at the dead body of our class pet. What was the proper protocol for a dead pet in a classroom? I pondered. My mind went back to a movie I had seen where a village set fire to the dead body of a leader on the local beach. I could…no, fire was probably not a good idea. I considered just throwing poor Rocky in the school dumpster, but felt like I had the opportunity for a “teachable moment” and didn’t want to pass it up.
“Mrs. Tupper,” my thoughts were interrupted by one of my students, “can we pass Rocky’s body around so everyone can see it up close?” Curiosity—I learned while teaching my kids with special needs that it was the greatest motivation for learning. “Okay,” I said, “you can pass the box around, but please don’t touch the body, I’m not sure exactly why he died and I don’t have a box big enough for any of you.” This comment sent giggles around the circle. Then I had an idea.
“Hey, kids—what do you think we should do with poor ol’ Rocky?” Why not let the kids decide the solution to my dilemma. If they were comfortable with the old “flush the pet down the toilet” strategy, I would take a quick trip to the dumpster with our furry friend. If not, I was sure they would lead the way for us to best deal with the situation.
“We need to have a funeral,” said little Eric. “Yeah! Yeah!” 17 other voices chimed in. So, then it was decided. There was to be a funeral for ol’ Rocky the gerbil from Room 108.
I borrowed a shovel from the janitor who thankfully asked no questions. Jacob was elected to solemnly carry the shoe box to the side yard of the school. The remainder of the kids marched seriously behind him—no one making a sound. Jacob placed the box on the ground and we all sat in a circle around it. The whole experience reminded me of prayer circles I had participated in as a teen ager.
“Okay,” I said. “We’re going to go around the circle and if you would like to say a few words about Rocky, you may. If you would rather not, just say ‘pass.’”
“I think Rocky was a good classroom pet,” I spoke first to model for the students what I had in mind.
“He was furry,” another said.
“He was funny,” shared someone else.
“He was my best friend,” said little Jacob with a tear slipping down his chubby cheek.
“I liked him.”
After a few more comments (surprisingly, nobody “passed”), we continued with our service. I gave a brief obituary of Rocky’s life and said a few words comparing the falling of the leaves with the death of our gerbil. I intentionally avoided mentioning God, resurrection, and Jesus. With the adamance about keeping religion out of school, I felt I had to shut off that part of my life at this moment.
Two of the second grade boys dug the hole for the shoebox, gently lowered Rocky into the hole and then covered it up. Spontaneously, each of the kids picked out a beautiful fall leaf from the yard and placed it on top of Rocky’s “grave.” I was so touched and felt we needed to have a final circle to close out the service. We stood in a circle, holding hands. “Does anyone have anything to say or have a song you would like to sing?”
“Can we sing, ‘Joy to the World?’” asked one of my 2nd grade girls.
“You mean ‘Jeremiah was a bullfrog joy to the world?” I asked.
“No,” she said as she broke out in song, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her king?” A tear escaped as I stood and watched in wonder at my 18 students standing in a circle, holding hands, singing a Christmas carol, around the grave of our classroom pet--a dead gerbil, named Rocky.
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