Handshake

"It's your first chance to make an impression," my mother said while locking her eyes on mine. I didn't dare look away from her piercing blue gaze. "Shake my hand."

I gave it a try, attempting to mimic what I had seen from adults and in movies. Even her tiny, bony hand swallowed mine. I looked down at the floor, embarrassed.

"Look at me," she coached. "You don't want to seem weak. Grip my hand hard and look me in the eye." We practiced for a few more minutes until I got the pressure just right. Don't grip too hard. Don't grip too soft. Give it one good, firm shake and let go. Maintain eye contact. Smile.

That routine quickly became ingrained in my habits. In my younger years, I often caught adults off guard by extending my hand and engaging them in strong eye contact and a firm handshake. It was second nature to me. It was something I was expected to do, or else. But as I ventured out into the world, I often realized how lucky I was to have been taught such things. I'm constantly shocked by the poor manners I see out of my peers, and endlessly frustrated by the same from my students. Please. Thank you. Pardon me. Nice to meet you. They seem to have been lost, sucked into a black hole somewhere between Hip Hop and Facebook.

Today I was reminded of this downward trend even as one of my sweetest students stayed after school for tutoring. About half way through, a fellow MTC teacher walked into my room to give me two books we had been discussing. Before we began a conversation about the books, I asked him if he knew my student.

"No I don't!" Mr. Gioia exclaimed as he extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, D!"

The handshake was pathetic.

"Well that wasn't a very good handshake," Mr. Gioia said. "Try again. You gotta really give it a firm grip."

Neither of them could see me, but I was beaming. I've talked to D before about his life outside of school. He has been mostly raised by his mother, a Mexican immigrant who did not graduate high school and speaks little English. He has a stepfather who is scarcely present. D is a wonderful kid. He asks to stay for tutoring almost everyday and he's polite to everyone. But until today, no one had taught him how to give a good handshake. When I try to make small talk with him he usually stares at the ground and grinds the toe of his shoe into the floor. I've tried to politely coax him into looking at me as we're talking, but I guess I had never shaken his hand. I'm ashamed.

So tomorrow it's my goal to shake every student's hand as they walk through my door. They're going to hate it and I'll probably get sick, but if one of my best seventh graders didn't have that skill, I'm sure there are more who need the same lesson. It will be my way of paying it forward... one germy little handshake at a time.