In Praise of Fireflies by Katherine Emery General

My social media algorithm is filled with kindergarten teacher posts, environmental studies, gardening, farming, reading, books, and cooking, basically, anything related to healthy living. I scroll through Instagram while eating breakfast, living vicariously through those little square boxes. It feels like a mini-education; I always learn something new.

I recently read that fireflies are becoming extinct due to the chemicals we use in our gardens. I’ve seen it happen in my own backyard. I’ve never used chemicals, yet each summer, there are fewer and fewer fireflies. Twenty years ago, my garden looked like a fairyland, twinkling with lights. Now I’m lucky if I spot one or two.

Just yesterday, my six-year-old granddaughter, Freyja, came inside and announced there was a “stick bug” on a chair out on the deck. We all stopped what we were doing to go take a look. Upon seeing it, her eight-year-old sister, Winnie, corrected her: “that’s a praying mantis. He’s missing a leg, his wife probably started eating him.” I asked where she learned that, and thankfully, it was from a book, not YouTube.

My students and grandchildren know I respect and care for bugs. I’m often the one called to gently escort a cricket out of the classroom. There is a daily discussion about which bugs are our favorites. Ladybugs are always number one, they rate even higher when children learn how important Lady Bugs are to gardens. Aphids are respected as a Ladybug’s favorite food, but disliked for their ability to destroy a beautiful rose bush or an entire plot of newly planted lettuce, squash, and tomatoes.

I once found what I thought was a dying bee and gently placed her in a small dish with a drop of sugar water. She wasn’t dying, just exhausted. After sipping the sweet solution, she rested a moment, then flew away, which was incredibly gratifying.

I’ve read that dandelions are one of the first spring foods for bees, so I teach my students to “leave the flowers for the bees.” I hear them echo my words as they crouch near the grass, hands hovering, so tempted to pick the bright yellow blooms. I hope they’re learning to pause, to notice, and to care.

I didn’t always love bugs. My first day in my new home in Hawaii was a full-on bug nightmare. While unpacking boxes in the laundry room, something huge flew past my head, it was a flying cockroach! Just as I was about to panic, a gecko darted out and, in one giant gulp, swallowed the cockroach whole. The cockroach was bigger than the gecko.

Then there were the centipedes. Real threats, I thought. I uncovered one while digging in the garden, it was at least six inches long. In Hawaii, centipedes were at the top of the food chain. After doing research in my family’s Encyclopedia Britannica, I discovered that centipedes actually are predators of those nasty cockroaches. I kept a respectful distance if I saw one outside.

But over time, I’ve come to respect these tiny creatures. Some are helpers. Some are just surviving. All are part of the world we share. I’m reminded that when I step outside, I’m just a visitor in their home. I try to leave them alone, give them space, and appreciate their role in the ecosystem. I don’t enjoy them in my home either, but outside, they belong.

So, whether it’s a bee in need of a rest, a cricket in the classroom, or a child choosing to leave a flower for something smaller than themselves, I hold on to hope. Hope that kindness toward the smallest beings plants seeds of awareness that grow.