When I was in elementary school, we were playing kickball. Someone kicked the ball way out my way, and I ran to grab it. On my way back, I noticed something that broke my little heart- I had stepped on this beautiful, big praying mantis who was standing in the grass. I recall being devastated. I felt so bad. My wonderful teacher saw me upset, and calmed me down. She decided that we could make this a sort of class project. The mantis was alive, just a little mangled- injuries which would probably heal. So this mantis, named "Manny" by myself, was taken into a little hamster cage into our classroom. We spent about 2 weeks nursing the little fella back to health. All of my classmates loved him and they were happy that I found and saved him. After those two weeks, Manny appeared to be healed up. So we had a small field trip to some woods near the school, where we took Manny and released him into some nice, thick bushes. I recall feeling sad that I had to say goodbye- I had begun to see him as a pet... no, a *friend.* So I was sad... but then I was happy when I saw him moving around, even doing a little hop/fly to a neighboring bush. And that was the last we saw of him. I think this was a fantastic lesson. It taught us responsibility: we had a system for who would feed/clean the cage/etc., so that each student was contributing to Manny's recovery. It taught us a sort of moral lesson. Everyone had *empathy and compassion* for this mantis, an *insect!* (My entire class was White). This was also the first time I experienced a form of "loss", it taught me how to say goodbye, how to let someone/something go when the time comes. It hurts, but it is the right thing to do. These are the kinds of lessons that no faggot schoolboard member could come up with in a curriculum.