CHAPTER 1
A Sad Spring for Tyler
Teddy instinctively knew when a student (or anyone, for that matter) needed him to be calmed. They say we humans give off a scent when we are upset which dogs can smell and some will react to, such as Teddy.
It was spring and Easter was fast approaching. I had been working with a young man in third grade whose father had passed away. It was close to a year since his passing, and the boy, and the boy was struggling with the anniversary date of his dad's death approaching. While I worked with Tyler, Teddy would lie at Tyler's feet. During moments of extreme sadness, Tyler would begin to cry. When this would happen, Teddy would stand up and gently lay his head on Tyler's lap. As Tyler would pet Teddy's head, he would begin to calm and regain control of his emotions.
On the actual anniversary date of his dad's death, Tyler came to see me in the morning. He was shaken, but prepared himself for the day ahead of him. His mom had called earlier and told me she would like Tyler to stay at school if at all possible that day. I told Tyler if he had trouble getting through his day, to come see me. I let his teacher know I would make myself available if he needed help.
As lunch time approached, I stepped out of my office briefly and Teddy remained lying in his usual spot, just inside the thresh hold of my doorway. Evidently, Tyler began to have trouble, and came to see me, crying. Our principal was in his office, which was right across the hall from mine. He heard Tyler crying and came over to see what was wrong. He recounted to me later, as Tyler cried and told him about the reason for his sadness, that Teddy instinctively went to Tyler and "buried his head in that boy's lap." The principal was shocked and amazed at not only this act, but also the effect of Teddy's presence as Tyler began to calm and go back to class.
Even later in the day, I sat at my desk working, Teddy in his usual place. He rarely left the thresh hold of my door. Suddenly, Teddy bound to his feet and left my doorway, heading down the hall, three doors away, to the Nurse's office. This wasn't like Teddy to leave my side, so I rose and followed him. What I saw was heartwarming.
Tyler had begun to have what appeared to be a panic attack, having trouble breathing and tightness in his chest, so his teacher sent him to see the nurse. Teddy sensed this, and immediately went to Tyler's side. He laid his head in Tyler's lap once again, his big brown eyes gazing up at Tyler. The nurse and I were amazed and in awe of the scene before us! Tyler began petting Teddy, calmed once again, and was able to go back to class and get through this very difficult day.
When Teddy saw me watching, he tucked his tail, as if he thought he were in trouble for leaving my office area. Of course, I only praised him for knowing what to do and doing it!
Teddy heard Tyler in the nurse's office and instinctively knew he needed emotional support more than medical help, so he rose and went to him. Tyler, receiving Teddy's loving care, calmed enough to feel better and go back to class. What an amazing scene!
CHAPTER 2
Not Just Scared ... Terrified of Dogs
Many students have fears of dogs, for many different reasons. Some have had a previous bad experience with other dogs. Others, especially small children, are simply overwhelmed since the dog is as big as they are and they find themselves face to face with the hot breath of a dog's jowls! Whatever the reason, I've never seen a girl as frightened of a dog as Chelsey.
It was early in the school year and a new student had moved into Whittier, Chelsey. Many students, especially kindergarteners, would come in somewhat hesitant of dogs to start with, but once they saw Teddy's calm manner, they would easily lay their fears aside, at least when it came to Teddy! Teddy had been at Whittier for many years, and all students were accustomed to seeing him in the hallways with me.
One particular afternoon, I was heading into a kindergarten classroom when I passed by Chelsey's first grade classroom leaving their room to go to Music. Chelsey saw Teddy and immediately went into a total and complete state of panic. She backed herself up against the lockers and screamed and cried and literally shook her hands with fear. Surprised by this, I turned to see her teacher on one knee at Chelsey's eye level and telling her in her calmest, sweetest voice, to calm down. This was not working. Chelsey continued and even escalated.
Her teacher said, "This is Teddy. He is our school dog. He's really calm. He won't hurt you."
But Chelsey was too terrified to hear anything. Her teacher held her face gently in her hands and told her to just simply look at her instead of Teddy. Chelsey reluctantly did this, giving quick, panic stricken side glances in his direction. I took Teddy into the classroom where we were headed, and let her go with Chelsey. The trauma was over for now but I knew we had a severe problem if this little girl was going to be at Whittier and see our therapy dog frequently.
I phoned her mom and described what I had witnessed with regard to Chelsey. Her mom said she had no idea where Chelsey had gotten such an intense fear of dogs, but knew she had one. She didn't want her to grow up afraid of dogs, and asked if somehow Teddy and I could get her daughter over this fear. I eagerly agreed and assured her we had never had anyone afraid of Teddy for very long. Once they saw how calm and loving he was, and witnessed their classmates affectionately interacting with him, they quickly came to know he would not harm them.
I began working with Chelsey alone without Teddy. Chelsey stated she didn't know why she had this fear of dogs, but also decided she would like to be past it. Her desire to be over the fear of dogs would definitely make the process easier. I told her Teddy and I would help.
I began the first day by asking Chelsey simply touch his tail. She once again panicked and literally shook her fists in fear, unable to even reach her hand toward Teddy. I knew this would be more involved than I imagined. I decided I needed to back up even more and begin by letting her simply get used to seeing Teddy and build on that.
With her teacher's help, I prepared her for daily "pass-bys" of Teddy. This involved her simply standing in the hall and watching Teddy walk past her. Once again, this led to screams of utter terror, so we backed up and had her stand inside her classroom, look through the window and watch Teddy walk by. Thankfully, this worked. I did this daily, sometimes twice a day, for about a week.
Next, I had Chelsey stand back in the hall and watch Teddy go by. This also worked! After about another week of this, I had her touch his tail. With extreme caution, she did so. The look on her face was one I'll never forget. It was a combination of happiness, anxiety, and pride, as she touched his tail for a brief moment. After that, she petted his tail successfully. Teddy, sensing her fear, never once made any quick movements around her, nor did he approach her – he let her take the lead and approach him. In the weeks to come, she gradually increased her contact with Teddy until she was able to pet his head and even give him a treat!
It took Chelsey longer than any student in Teddy's 12.5 years at Whittier, but she did overcome her fear of dogs, at least of Teddy! I shared periodically with her mother, how it was going. Her mother was extremely grateful for the help and used the methods to help Chelsey eventually overcome her fear of other dogs! By Halloween, Chelsey had overcome her fear entirely!
Teddy's calm mannerism helped Chelsey realize she had nothing to fear in him. She gradually got used to seeing Teddy increasing her contact with him. Teddy, sensing her fear, kept his distance until she was ready to pet him. I'll never forget later that Spring, when Chelsey willingly stopped Teddy in the commons and lay her face alongside his. She gently caressed his ears and spoke lovingly to him. Realizing how far she had come, both her teacher and I watched with a combination of awe and happiness at this scene before us. I let my heart take a picture!
CHAPTER 3
The Nursing Home Visit
Teddy made occasional visits to the nursing home if we knew someone was there who might enjoy seeing him. He visited my own grandmother back in my hometown of Platteville, Wisconsin while she was in the nursing home. My grandmother was a lifetime dog lover and both she and Teddy soaked up the love while he visited her!
We were on one such visit on a Sunday afternoon, leaving a skilled care nursing home in Clinton. Teddy "heeled" very well and never was one to pull on the leash. This time, as we passed a room, he pulled on the leash, beckoning me to follow him into what seemed to be a random room. Not knowing who was in there, I was hesitant, until I noticed a coworker of mine, Julie, at the bedside of a woman lying asleep. Julie looked drained, but an immediate smile sprang to her face as she saw Teddy. She invited us in. Teddy loved Julie, as she was a teacher who kept treats in her room at school! Whenever Teddy would visit her room, she had a treat for him. We laughed together as we made note that Teddy must have been expecting her to have a treat ready and waiting; however, oddly, he seemed only mildly interested in Julie this day. Instead, he was curious about the individual lying in the hospital bed.
She told us this was her cousin who had been quite ill for a long time and introduced us. Her cousin was so weak she could barely get out a thin sounding "hello," but raised her eyes to Teddy. Julie told me her cousin was a lifetime dog lover and asked if Teddy would put his front paws up on the bed so she could see him. As I gave Teddy the command, he softly raised just his front paws to the bed. He was incredibly calm as he ever so gently balanced himself and greeted her cousin.
He seemed to hold such a calm restraint over himself, as if he realized just how sick this woman was. Her cousin weakly raised her hand to stroke Teddy's soft head and ears with one hand. It seemed to be all she could do to lift her arm, heavy with IV's. A slow grin grew on her lips as she stroked his soft head.
"He's soft," she whispered, and she dropped her hand back to her side. "Thank you," she said, and closed her eyes again.
Julie thanked me for taking a moment to see her, and we left.
Later I learned that just a couple of days before Teddy's visit, Julie's cousin had been told there was nothing more the doctors could do for her. She said her daughters and other family members had tried to keep talking with her about happy memories to keep her spirits up. Julie explained after Teddy left, her cousin began talking about her own dogs she had had over the years, and her happy memories of them.
A few days later, back at school, Teddy and I stopped by Julie's classroom. She got tears in her eyes as she bent down to give Teddy a treat and rhythmically stroke his back. She told him thanks for visiting her cousin. Then she looked up at me and explained her cousin had passed away the night before, only a few days after Teddy had been there.
I was stunned and gave her my condolences. I was also amazed that Teddy had somehow known to stop into that room. He was happy to see his "treat room friend," but had appeared as if there was another purpose to his visit. Evidently there was!
Once again, Teddy knew something we did not. His calm presence was exactly what was needed that day as he allowed a woman one last gentle touch to the head of a dog, before she left this world.
CHAPTER 4
Teddy and Kindergarten Separation Anxiety
Many kindergarteners come to school on their first days anxious about starting school. Many parents also do the same! Teddy has helped countless students, especially kindergarteners weave their way through this milestone. Kaylee, however, had one of the strongest, longest lasting difficulty separating. This helped her form a strong bond with Teddy, one I can say may be unparalleled with any other student in his 12.5 years.
It was the beginning of the school year in 2011 and Kaylee did not want to leave her mom's side on that first day. She clung to her desperately. Since she lived with her mom and grandparents at the time, her grandfather, lovingly called "Papa," decided maybe it would be better if he brought her instead. Kaylee would cry and cling to her papa as well. This went on day after day.
Finding Kaylee in this state, Teddy would offer his gentleness. She at first reluctantly responded. I would ask her if she would like to walk to class with Teddy and I or on her own. She of course would say with Teddy. Then I would ask her if she wanted me to hold his leash or if she wanted to hold it. She started out wanting me to hold it, but would take hold part way to her classroom. Slowly, she would make her way down the hall with Teddy's leash in her tiny fingers. She would slowly turn and offer a solemn goodbye to Papa, but she at least went without grasping and clinging. She would turn back and give a tiny little smile to Teddy and softly talk to him on their way to the classroom. She would tell him how she would miss her papa, but that Teddy helped her miss him less. Teddy seemed to understand as he trotted happily with her to her classroom.
Through Kindergarten, Kaylee developed a special bond with Teddy. She would come see him at lunch recess and caress his soft ears. She would tell him how she had made it through the morning and that there was just a little bit of time left to go before she could go home. She told Teddy coming to school and seeing him made it easier for her to leave home.
Kaylee loved Teddy and continued to have their "talks" throughout the years as various things would happen at school – a argument with a friend or how to handle someone picking on her or someone else. Once extremely bashful, she grew strong and assertive with Teddy's help. In second grade, she even came to tell us both how she stood up for a classmate who was getting bullied! Her parents and grandparents sang his praises for the way he helped Kaylee grow, all the way from day one.
Four years later, when Kaylee learned of his retirement, she wrote this heart-warming story about Teddy:
Teddy
When I was in kindergarten I cried because I was scared and then this dog came along and helped me. His name was Teddy. He came every day and helped me. I don't like to say this but he is retiring. I wish he would not. All I wanted was him to be here with me in fourth grade. Maybe someday I will see him again.
Her mother still says to this day, "I don't think Kaylee would have made it through Kindergarten without you and Teddy!"
Her grandmother, a former colleague of mine, told me, "It was Teddy's presence and calm, safe demeanor that brought Kaylee out of her separation anxiety. He helped her gain feelings of security and I will personally always appreciate and love Teddy!"
Teddy's calm way helped Kaylee realize she would be okay. He became that friend that's always there to listen over the years for her. He watched her grow and help someone else with her assertiveness skills. When Kaylee told me how sad she was that he was retiring, I quoted Dr. Seuss and said, "Don't cry because it's over, Kaylee. Smile because it happened." We smiled together.
CHAPTER 5
Chad is Really Mad
We had a student I'll call Chad one particular school year with significant behavior issues. Our Behavior Disorder (BD) teacher had tried and tried this particular day to calm him down. He was screaming, throwing things, tipping tables over, even attempting to run out of the building. His behaviors came in waves. He'd settle down only to rise again to an uncontrollable level. She had worked with him literally for hours. Finally, she prepared to contact the principal. She knew in situations such as this, it was time to contact Chad's mother, describe his behavior, and suggest she take him home for the day, since he was out of instructional control.
As the teacher prepared for this phone call, I happened to pass by with Teddy and stopped to talk to someone in a nearby classroom. The boy was in a wave of only mild agitation, mostly making noise at this point, but not flailing his body about; however, given his pattern that day, it seemed possible it could start again at any moment.
