Broken crayons make weak hands strong. Let that sink in. We are made for a purpose. We are important. We are loved. *I* am loved. Say that out loud.

My Story, My Song

In my classroom, we have this bucket. We call it the crayon bucket. It’s job is to hold two kinds of crayons: the broken ones and the forgotten ones.

When I started teaching it didn’t take me long to figure out that crayons are hard for five-year-olds to keep up with. Like… I found it out within thirty minutes!!!