A Classroom Moment: The Life and Times of Mr. G

For over 20 years I have been a teacher, and for most of those years I have had a classroom pet of one kind or another. This year our classroom pet is Mr. G, a hamster with a one letter name, a lovable personality, lots of fur, and a tremendous propensity for daytime sleeping. Everyday we all get to enjoy observing his humorous behaviors. On science quiz day my students look forward to “Mr. G Time” when they will all have a moment to pet him or to watch him motor around inside a circle of students seated on the floor.

The first week of each month brings the changing of classroom jobs in my classroom. Of the 25 or so jobs, the Hamster Manager is by far the most coveted job of all. Elizabeth couldn’t wait to get to school to start this new job…Within seconds of arriving to the classroom, Elizabeth rushes over to me and asks, “Since it’s my first day to be the hamster manager, can I go over to take care of Mr. G before The Pledge?”

“Sure, Elizabeth,” I reply without a second thought.

A couple of minutes pass as I am welcoming students and finalizing preparations for the day. Elizabeth returns with a mixture of innocence and genuine confusion to speak with me.  She looks up at me with her big fifth grade eyes and states, “Mr. Farmer, it’s kinda’ creeping me out that Mr. G isn’t moving very much. He’s just kind of sitting there with his feet in the air. Would you mind checking on him?”

I give Elizabeth a reassuring nod and walk over to Mr. G’s cage. As I open the lid there is no doubt… Mr. G has died.

Word spreads through the classroom faster than a lightning bolt, and for a moment, students gather near the cage, half curious, half disbelieving. As the realization sets in, a moment of unexpected silence blankets the room.

Then a click of static from the P.A. system… “Good morning boys and girls. Please stand for The Pledge…”

As The Pledge ends, I sense in the students a need to confirm the reality of the moment. I say to them, “Boys and girls, Mr. G has died.” I explain my experience of having hamsters live one to four years, and reaffirm that Mr. G’s time has come.

“Can we bury him?” Tyler asks.

Olivia adds, “We should bury him next to the redbud tree in the circle. The one that has the heart-shaped leaves”

“Can I go tell all of the other classrooms?” Dominic asks excitedly.

Julia voices with a look of disbelief, “My dog just died this week, too.”

“We should probably put something over the cage to cover it,” Griffin adds.

As we talk of the possibilities for honoring Mr. G, I realize that Casey, the fifth grader who donated Mr. G to our science classroom, has yet to hear the news. I start the children on their morning grammar assignment and slip down the hall to her classroom to tell her privately.

“Casey… there’s something I need to tell you…” Casey hears the words at first, before the meaning hits her. Naturally, tears begin to well up as we walk over to get a tissue. Casey’s homeroom teacher, Mrs. Huster, takes over, offering comfort to Casey… a hug… a phone call home…

It’s decided that Mr. G will be buried at Casey’s home. Although many wanted a school burial, no one questions that this is the right decision for Mr. G and Casey.

As the morning routine kicks in, students’ minds continue to return to Mr. G and what life will be like in his absence. Elizabeth makes a card of reflection. Sidnee offers her family’s water turtle. Olivia quietly leaves a note on my desk offering “when the class is ready” to donate her family hamster.

Children, like adults, have their own way of coming to terms with death, even the death of something as seemingly insignificant as a hamster. Some want to publicly express concern and “do something” while others are more comfortable observing the facts, even occasionally joking to ease their inner feelings of disbelief. Regardless of the reaction, what they all need is permission to experience the moment, and time to gather understanding.

Next week, I will put final closure on this moment of our year together by reading The Fall of Freddie the Leaf: A Story of Life for All Occasions. This book, published before I even began my career, beautifully personifies a dialogue between two leaves of the same tree that are nearing the time when they will fall away from the tree.

And yes, as happens in so many other ways in life, we will one day soon welcome another life, another opportunity for a caring learning experience to the world of our classroom.