Little Cards, Big Heart

I vividly remember a chilly Valentine’s Day morning years ago when I was teaching kindergarten. As the students arrived, the classroom was buzzing with excitement. Every desk had a carefully decorated shoebox waiting to be filled with cards and candy. I’ve always loved this day—not for the sweets or the cheerful chaos, but for the chance to remind my students about kindness and connection.

That year, we had a new student, Liam, who had joined our class just a couple of weeks earlier. Liam was a quiet boy with big, curious eyes. He was still getting used to his new surroundings, and while the other kids had been friendly, he often played alone or kept to himself during group activities. I could tell he hadn’t quite found his place yet, and I was hoping today might help him feel a little more included.

After our morning routine, we started the much-anticipated Valentine’s Day card exchange. The kids were giggling and shuffling through their piles of brightly colored envelopes, excited to hand them out. I noticed Liam quietly walking around the room, carefully placing a single card into each classmate’s box. There were 23 students in the class, and for a five-year-old to take the time to make a card for every single one of them was no small task. His valentines were simple—just a piece of construction paper folded in half, with a hand-drawn heart and the words Thank you for being my friend. It was clear he had put thought and effort into each one.

When it was time for the kids to open their valentines, the room filled with laughter and happy chatter as they dug through their boxes, pulling out cards and little treats. Then, something amazing happened. Ella, one of the most outgoing students in the class, held up Liam’s card and smiled. “Look, everybody!” she exclaimed. “Liam made his own cards! He even said ‘thank you!’”

Another child chimed in, “Yeah, I got one too!”

Before I knew it, the kids were holding up Liam’s cards, talking about how much they loved them. Liam, who had been sitting quietly at his table, looked up with wide eyes. His face turned red, but then he broke into the biggest smile I’d ever seen from him.

By the end of the day, Liam was playing happily with a group of kids during center time, building towers and laughing like he’d been part of the class all along. I’ll never forget how Liam’s thoughtfulness and Ella’s simple gesture of kindness had the power to connect Liam with his classmates.

That day reminded me of something I’ve seen time and time again in teaching: The smallest actions can make the biggest difference. Whether it’s a kind word, a thoughtful card, or a moment of inclusion, these little acts of love and kindness are what make a classroom feel like a family.

So this Valentine’s Day, let’s celebrate the joy of connection. Let’s remind our students—and ourselves—that kindness matters.