If a child is not breathing give one minute of CPR then call an ambulance. If another person is present ask them to call an ambulance straight away.

1. Open the airway by placing one hand on their forehead and gently tilting the head back and lifting the chin. Remove any visible obstructions from the mouth and nose.

woman holding child's head
2. Pinch the child’s nose. Place your mouth over the child’s mouth and attempt five initial rescue breaths.
woman blowing into child's mouth
3. Place your hands on the centre of their chest and, with the heel of your hand, press down one third of the depth of the chest using one or two hands. After every 30 chest compressions give two rescue breaths.
woman pressing on child's chest
4. Continue with cycles of 30 chest compressions and two rescue breaths until emergency help arrives or the person begins to breath normally.If you are unable or unwilling to give rescue breaths give chest compressions alone.Source: Red Cross

My sister sent this to me

From somewhere…?


I feel sometimes powerless and small, overwhelmed and inadequate, engulfed in thoughts and feelings that perhaps what I am doing is insignificant, that my life’s pursuit, that my teaching, is futile.

And I say “Who am I to change the world?  Who am I to think that I can make a difference?”

And then I reflect on the young people under my charge, and I think about my role and about what power, if any, I have.

And I find that I am not devoid of resources or strength, that I am, indeed, endowed with talent and ability and strength.

I do, after all, decide what will be taught.  No one else.  And it is largely my prerogative when it will be taught and how, and where, and why it will be taught.

To a great extent I determine the curriculum.  And the richness and intensity with which it is taught is in my hands.

I have that power.

And I have the ability to think and to plan and then to implement:  to select from my repertoire of skills the one best suited to my purpose, yet still able to adapt myself to student needs with the dexterity of an artisan.

Most adults would be fortunate to perhaps last out one day overseeing a roomful of kids.  My orchestration makes enlightened music of the chaotic din.

I guess you could say this is power!

I have the power.  I have the vigour to motivate, the fullness to laugh, the courage to control.  I have the power to uplift and to create and, when I’m red-hot, the intensity to inspire!  I can form my students into lines or circles, triangle or squares.

My influence is such I can turn their very feelings into F’s or A’s.

With just one look I can let a student know that everything is well with the world and that he or she has a perfect right to aim for the very top of it all!

And I can use my hands, turned up to lift them up.  Or turned down to keep them down.

What power do I have in the system?  In the eyes of my students I am the system.

And I have the power to lead them places they did not know existed, to build them back up when society tears them down, to catapult them higher than I myself will ever reach:  and to push them gently, but assuredly, into the unknown, painting for them in broad brush strokes a future I can never hope to see.

And every day I have the wherewithal in my classroom to build walls or to build bridges between the generations.

And it is within my discretion to design a rigid, competitive structure or a cooperative, helping network in my classroom.

I even affect the weather!  What I do every day determines whether their world will be indifferent cold or sweathouse hot, or warm, inviting, alive and vibrant with learning.

I have an awesome power.

If I succeed I pass the knowledge about what is important to the next generation.  And, because their world will be the better for my labour mine is an important service to a just cause.

Mine is a present power and future power.  If I can reach the children of today I touch the children of tomorrow.  Mine is a giving power.

All that I know about the world and about how one learns about the world I must give.

And in the giving of my gift, I received my greatest power:  the power to teach my students to learn how to learn.

Empowering them is the essence, for if their teacher feels sometimes powerless and small, how insignificant must they sometimes feel?

And when the last day comes, and it is time for us to part we gather together, say our goodbyes and separate.

After that there is sadness but a certain contentment that I am sure only teachers feel.

It is a happiness that comes from knowing that a part of us forever, transplanted, lives…No, thrives!  inside of each individual who has gazed at us across tired brown desks and called us “Teacher”.

Even on a down day — when I’m feeling puny and insignificant — even I try hard to remember that all it takes is one person — just one person! — to make a difference in their lives.

And, there is no reason in the world that that person cannot and should not be me!  I can make a difference!  That is my power.  That is the power to teach.