Who thought Tiny Uno was necessary? (Should we call it Tuno)? Standard cards are portable enough. Nobody needed Tuno. With Tuno, the true art of the game is managing your hand, which does not actually fit in your hands, barely fits in your fingertips, and takes ten minutes to fan out properly. Heaven forbid you try to shuffle the miniscule deck.
I’m taking Tuno to school tomorrow for “show and tell.” My students are going to love it. They take delight in miniature anything. Now, I admit, this is probably because they think they can fidget with small objects in their desks while I am teaching. Most of the time, I spot them. But right before the holidays, I found a petite jar of gumballs in a desk. It was as big as a thumbnail. Some kid must have played with that thing all class period.
Another reason sixth graders might be drawn to little things, is because they desire to feel bigger themselves. They have paid their dues, made it through elementary school, and are sure they have earned a spot in seventh grade by the time we hit January. Physically, they change radically by Spring Break, and their new, taller physiques make those autumn yearbook pictures look like Tuno cards. So much is going on inside a 6th grader’s body, they are like circus ringmasters who have lost control of the center ring, sometimes. It is heartbreaking to witness.
Once, this little girl was working quietly, when she started crying. Uncontrollably. I escorted her into the hallway and softly asked, “What’s going on? How can I help?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I woke up this morning and felt like crying for no reason at all. I have felt this way all day. Can you tell me why I am crying? ”
I nodded, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Yes, dear, I think I can. Why don’t you go talk to the nurse for a little bit.”
When she came back from her visit with the nurse, she walked up to me. “Oh,” she said with a half-hearted smile.
Growing up is difficult. A kind teacher looks for ways to cushion adolescents from as many painful moments as possible. It can be frustrating to reach out to them, though, because their hormonally-challenged personalities contain porcupine quills. The faster students hurtle toward puberty, the more aggressive and obstinate they become. Some are downright rude to their teachers.
But they are still kids. Sure, a rebellious student or two may be trying on their big pants in front of their friends, but inside, every 6th grader’s confidence is fragile and diminutive. It is hard to keep that in mind and handle their hearts gently. I can be so quick with words, and to them, that always gives me an unfair size advantage. If I wanted to, I could put them in their places faster than Jack ran down the Beanstalk.
But this is not a time to manhandle anyone. It is the most delicate time of their lives. Almost everything hurts in 6th grade.
So I plan to keep that deck of Tuno cards out on my desk where I can see it every day. About a month from now, my students will become rough and rowdy, and I know I will need a reminder that they are still so small.