By Derrick Brown (follow on Twitter @dbrowndbrown)
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Lizard Liability: A Lesson in Control, Chaos, and Care (877 Words)
By Derrick Brown (Join Our Mailing List!)
It started with sharing the “good news” of recent test scores … and ended
with a gecko.
In between were lots of mercy … a little math … and a reminder that teaching is
equal parts stewardship and surrender.
Mercy at the Desk
Before the chaos arrived, I was in my element ... sharing the “good news”
regarding our scores from a recent test … and giving grace.
I told DL, JW, and MLG that my approach to grading was friendly … not
because it was easy, but because it was redemptive.
“Mercy,” I said, “shows up before the grade. I’m giving it to you
in advance.
All I ask is that you jump over a newspaper ... just try.”
That line made them laugh, but it landed.
They understood: grace isn’t a loophole; it’s an invitation.
It says, ‘Meet me halfway.’
And if they wouldn’t take that small leap, nothing bigger would follow.
Somewhere between those mini-sermons, TW and PC told me I was their favorite
teacher.
I pretended to blush ... “Aw, shucks” ... but the truth is, every tired
educator needs that reminder that their labor of love still matters.
Community and Continuity
The classroom buzzed with homecoming talk.
JV dressed as “the young him” ... the theme of the day ... and nailed it.
ZT asked whether my daughter, HAB12, would be in the parade.
I told her yes … as a “Tin Man” in a parade themed “No Place Like
Home(coming).”
ZT’s eyes lit up; she had helped produce HAB12’s school plays for the last three
years.
Those small threads ... teacher, student, alumna, daughter ... stitched a
quilt of continuity.
For a moment, school felt like community, not chaos.
Enter the Gecko
Then it happened.
Out of the corner of my eye, a movement ... tiny, trembling, orange.
A gecko slipped from behind the whiteboard like a secret.
Gasps, shrieks, chairs scraping back.
The classroom instantly transformed into a wildlife documentary narrated by
panic.
Except for AW.
While everyone else froze or fled, AW walked calmly to the creature, cupped
her hands, and lifted it gently.
No scream.
No hesitation.
Just care.
I told her to set it on my broom so I could take it outside ... or, if I’m
honest, so I could flush it and be done.
She refused.
Instead, she carried it across the hall to the physics teacher, who
identified it, shared gecko trivia, and agreed to keep it in her terrarium.
Later that day, AW returned to tell me her mom said she could bring the gecko
home.
In fact, she adopted three.
They came by to “meet” me before dismissal ... tiny, blinking symbols of peace.
And that’s when the phrase hit me … Lizard Liability.
The Metaphor Crawls Out
I realized the liability wasn’t the lizard.
It was me
… and the abject fear and trauma of
liability and blame that I let drive me sometimes.
My instinct was control ... contain, sanitize, “handle it.”
Her instinct was care ... observe, nurture, “hold it.”
I worried about classroom order, insurance policies, unpredictable behavior,
negative perceptions of classroom management … and multiple levels of blame … that always
quietly find me.
She worried about the creature’s life.
We were both right … but she was true.
That tiny moment became a mirror for everything we teach ... and everything
we forget.
We tell students to take responsibility, to manage chaos, to solve for x.
But sometimes the lesson is not to solve at all.
It is to see.
To serve.
To save.
Chaos as Curriculum
The gecko’s appearance disrupted my plan, but it revealed my purpose.
Control is temporary; stewardship is eternal.
What I feared as distraction became devotion in disguise.
AW reminded me that learning often happens in defiance of instruction.
Her quiet courage showed that some students are not waiting for permission to
do good ... they’re waiting for an occasion to show it.
My job is not to orchestrate those occasions … but to notice them when they
appear.
Teaching is supposed to be about transformation.
The math kind.
The human kind.
Rigid transformations ... translations, reflections, and rotations ... show how
shapes can move without losing form.
Maybe AW taught the truer geometry … that
hearts can move, too, and still stay whole.
Grace After the Bell
At the end of the day, I thought about how little I’d actually taught.
No new formulas, no new vocabulary ... just one lasting image … a student
carrying a gecko with reverence through a sea of noise.
That’s ministry in miniature.
That’s pedagogy in practice.
It made me rethink every time I’ve tried to “flush” a disruption instead of
fostering a lesson.
Every time I have mistaken compliance for comprehension, or control for
connection.
Maybe “lizard liability” isn’t a warning; maybe it’s a witness.
A reminder that the classroom, like the Kingdom, belongs to those who show
compassion when it’s inconvenient.
Selah
I am in my “last days” as a teacher … but not my last days as a learner.
The gecko lives on ... in a terrarium, and in my testimony.
Because sometimes the smallest creatures carry the largest truths …
… That mercy can have scales …
… That peace can crawl across a whiteboard …
… And that even in chaos …
… Care is still contagious.
Selah.
(The "Follow The Leader (changED - Volume 2)" Audio and Video Album / Mixtape is also available at TeachersPayTeachers.com)
(The "changED (Volume 1)" Audio and Video Album / Mixtape is also available at TeachersPayTeachers.com)
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I am a “standup storyteller.”
I fuse rap, spoken word (poetry), oration (traditional public speaking), singing, and teaching into messages of hope, healing, and change that I write, direct, and produce to help people who help people.
Everything must change - and stay changED.
Tradition begins and ends with change.
Change begins with me and the renewing of my mind ... then continues through efforts to effect small-group discipleship (equipping others to equip others) with audiences that respect and embrace mentoring, mediation, and problem solving as tools of change.
I am the product of my mentoring relationships, peacemaking (and peacekeeping), and problem-solving ability.
My education began when I finished school.
After school, I enrolled in a lifelong curriculum that includes classes in ministry, entrepreneurship, stewardship, literacy, numeracy, language, self-identity, self-expression, and analysis / synthesis.
My projects execute a ministry that has evolved from wisdom earned through lessons learned.
I want to share this wisdom to build teams of "triple threat" fellows - mentors, mediators, and problem solvers.
We will collaborate in simple, powerful ways that allow us to help people who help people.
I now know that power is work done efficiently (with wise and skillful use of resources, interests, communication, and expertise).
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