I am fortunate. I live in one of those towns that have a centrally located kindergarten-through-grade-12 school complex. The elementary school is at the bottom of the hill, and the middle and high schools are up the hill. The road up the hill is one-way, so for us parents who drop our children off at school we get to drive a loop. (I get to repeat the first part of the loop to get to my classroom at the elementary school.)

My husband has always wondered why I don’t park at the beginning of the loop and make our children walk up the hill. I have done that on occasion, especially if the occasion is being late for bus duty. The truth is, I’m not driving the loop for my children. I am driving it for myself.

Why do I do this? I do it to see the youth of my community. I’ve known many of them since they were tiny. It’s fun to watch them grow up. I am reminded of why I teach when I see them. The sight of them walking to school brings me hope.

It’s easy to smile when I see the kids whose names I’ve read in the morning sports section, the ones I see working in the after-school recreation program and the ones who have their names printed in the newspaper every marking period for academic honors. But it’s even easier to smile when I see the kids who lose a lot of recess time in the elementary school. the ones who spend a lot of time with the assistant principal and the ones who never have their names printed in the newspaper for academic honors. I am so very glad that I am seeing those kids come to school. That’s real hope. And it also means that somewhere and somehow our school has made a personal connection with a student. That personal connection results in a sense of belonging.

Here are a couple of my personal favorite stories that illustrate how belonging positively affects all of our students.

One occurred about a dozen years ago. A teenager sneaked out of his house after his mom was in bed. He made his way to the center of town and entered the local pizza parlor. Classmates spotted him and encouraged him to join them, offering him pizza and soda.

One of those classmates sneaked away to the pay phone and called the boy’s mother to let her know he was there and that they would bring him home safely. The teenager who sneaked out of the house has Down syndrome. His classmates knew him and thought of him as part of their community because the school had facilitated the development of that community by including him in many of the routine activities of the regular classroom.

His academic needs were vastly different from those of his peers, but his social and emotional needs were similar. He needed to belong. He did belong, and his community of peers felt that he belonged to them, so they watched out for him.

Another story of the spirit of belonging happens every school morning in my town. A young man leaves his house and crosses the street, going out of his way to knock on a classmate’s door. He greets the family and asks the classmate if she is ready to go. Together, the two cross the street with the help of the crossing guard and make their way up the hill, past the middle school and into the high school.

The two chat away during their stroll. I often pass this couple after I drop my own daughter off at school. I wave and, if my window is down, shout out greetings. The young man gives me a suave nod and sometimes a wave, then says to his companion, “Mrs. White is going by in her maroon truck.” I hear, “Hi Mrs. White!” and see a vague wave.

The young man is not just a friend to the young lady, he is her guide. The young lady is visually impaired, among other medical challenges. Once, when I told him he was a good friend to this young lady, he replied, “It’s always good to have friends, everyone needs them.” His voluntary escort duties give the young lady real independence and normalcy she wouldn’t experience otherwise. After all, how many teenage girls want their parents or their little brother walking them to school?

The young man has heard countless words at home, school and in community institutions about being inclusive. His actions of responsibility, commitment and acceptance speak louder than any of those words and are experienced on a profound level by all involved. The simple act of walking to school together has created a sense of belonging for the two youngsters, their families and the rest of the community who witness this daily act of kindness. We are proud that Thomas and Lauren know what it means to belong.

Research statistics and test results can tell us how well our schools are performing in many different areas. Stories can put meaning to those numbers. What are your favorite stories of belonging at school? What can schools do to make belonging more accessible to all students? E-mail me at conversationswithateacher@gmail.com.