The Legendary Mr. Fuzzy

From anonymous puppet to classroom mascot, and so much more

This is my puppet, Mr. Fuzzy. He had long ago been outgrown by my own children, so he took up residence in a box of puppets and soft toys in our classroom choice area. At that time, he was just an anonymous bear who had never attracted much attention.

This is the story of how that anonymous bear became Mr. Fuzzy, our classroom mascot, and so much more.

Robin was a handsome, nonverbal 1st grader. He was strongly averse to listening to me, or looking at me; when I gave him a verbal or modeled direction, he would cover his ears and turn his face away.

It’s hard to teach a student who wants nothing to do with you. Clearly, I needed something else to engage this child.

One afternoon at choice time, Robin was tossing all the soft toys out of the box. I randomly picked up the bear puppet, and putting it on my hand, I said, “Hey, Robin! Want to play?”

Robin stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Manipulating the puppet, I picked up one of the toys he had tossed and said, “I’m going to help this toy get back into the box! Yay! Now it’s your turn!”

To my amazement, Robin picked up a toy and put it back in the box! The puppet and Robin took turns cleaning up the toys, and Robin was beaming.

He avoids all interaction with me, but he’s happily cooperating with a puppet!

I’m good with that.

And that’s how the bear was promoted from an anonymous resident of the toy box, to my co-teacher and alter ego. The students named him Mr. Fuzzy. Robin willingly participated in classroom activities as long as Mr. Fuzzy was doing the talking.

As it turned out, most of the students enjoyed interacting with Mr. Fuzzy, and he became a part of our morning circle routine. Even after Robin had moved on, Mr. Fuzzy still did a morning greeting with each student, providing lots of opportunity for communication and social interaction.

But while he had a name, he was still just a naked bear.

The year that the energetic and talented Miss C became our classroom assistant, she observed that when we changed our monthly themes, we did it in a big way. At that point, it was October, and we were singing songs, learning poems, and reading books about fall, and Halloween. We had strings of pumpkin lights. Our calendar numbers were pumpkins and bats. Our task boxes, worksheets, and art projects all reflected the monthly theme. When you walked into our room, there was no doubt what season we were celebrating.

But, she said, Mr. Fuzzy was still naked, and that wasn’t right.

So she brought in a tiny Halloween themed baby garment that had belonged to her daughters, and the kids were delighted to see Mr. Fuzzy dressed up for the season.

The bar had been raised.

A new precedent had been established: Mr. Fuzzy required a new outfit for each theme.

So on the first of November, Mr. Fuzzy greeted the children wearing a Pilgrim hat and a vest with a turkey on it, which I had hand sewn. The students were delighted.

Then Fernando, a 1st grader, observed, “Mr. Fuzzy got no shoes on!”

“Oh, come on now,” I said. “He’s just a puppet - he doesn’t need shoes!”

But popular opinion was on Fernando’s side.

At a craft store, I found some doll shoes that I could squish the little puppet feet into. So at Christmas, this is how he looked in the hat and jacket I sewed, and his store-bought shoes.

Students would give Mr. Fuzzy holiday greetings, or maybe a hearty “Ho-ho-ho!’

During summer school, we had theme weeks, and Mr. Fuzzy dressed the part. Here he is as a pirate (“Aarggh!”) and a cowboy (“Yee-haw!”)

Even though I am retired and have given away most of my teaching materials, Mr. Fuzzy and his extensive wardrobe still have a home with me.

He’s a reminder that even a naked and neglected bear might one day become a powerful teaching tool.

You never know.