I walked out the door today, arms filled with a box of assorted office what-cha-ma-call-its, a treasured book, a picture of me and my dear Adam, and a little vase filled with three beautiful fake flowers that has kept my desk cheerful and maintenance-free for the last six years. It really just seems like any other day today. But it's not. Today is tearfully different. Today is the day I say goodbye to the school that lead to my growth as a teacher. It's the school that saw me through a rough patch and watched me meet my soon-to-be husband. It's the school that I poured heart and soul into for six wonderful years.
I couldn't let go of the feeling that I was leaving something behind. I looked up and down the hallways and although I could see nothing that I was forgetting to take with me, the weighted feeling that I was missing something important remained. I went to complete my last task - boxing up some paperwork that was to be shredded. And I realized it was the final mission I would take on for this school.
I've taken on a number of missions, miniscule and monumental, for this organization. Some I couldn't wait to have off my plate and some I heartfully struggled to step away from. It is important to me that my efforts make a positive impact on a school and not just a little impact, but a huge, lasting, magnificent crater.
And with this thought, I realized what I was leaving behind. I was leaving behind myself. It was nothing that I could wrap in tissue paper or package in bubble wrap. It was nothing that I could take away from this school at all. It was the contribution left by hours of dedication and love for the students of this place. Through my bleary eyes, I realized that the magnificent moments that changed my heart and the hearts of my students... the beautiful moments in which a student believed that maybe something difficult was actually possible and that it was within them to achieve it... were what I left. These moments travel on in my mind, in my heart, and in the hearts and minds of my incredible students. I'm grateful that these moments live on and I can only hope that they will be magnified by the choices of my kids.
The next chapter is vague and unknown. But this is one thing that will continue no matter where I go. I want my life to publish hope. Always.
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Success
Being a teacher is interesting. I had begun getting frustrated with how poorly we pay teachers - especially good teachers. Good teachers are worth at least double their salary, and poor teachers about half. But Adam says we are public servants. What that means to me is that less of our reward is in the paycheck and more of it lies in seeing others meet challenges, seeing them succeed. And that's true.
I've never gotten emotional over a paycheck.
But I HAVE gotten emotional over seeing my students rise to the occasion. In my seven years of teaching, I have seen a number of students hit a wall. Frustration mounting. And suddenly, they pop up over the top of the wall. That feeling of success does not go away. That is lasting. I would hope that those experiences stick with my students in a way that it begins to define them. I want them to know that a challenge is a regular, expected life event and that each time they come up against a challenge, hard work and perseverance will win. And that they would begin to define their lives as successful, growing people.
I began storing these tales of success in my memory. Stacking each story next to the one before. But they are beginning to moosh together. So here is success story number one:
I have a student who struggles in reading. She was scoring about a year and a half behind her grade level. Sometimes there is a quick fix for academic issues. But sometimes these issues respond to obscure solutions... and finding that solution is like finding a needle in a haystack. I hoped that something would click with her, and it appeared like it had. So, I gave her an assessment. Her assessment showed no growth from the previous year. How could this be? NO growth? We had been working so hard. I began to feel ineffective and hopeless. I can only imagine what she must have been feeling. I didn't want to believe that no growth had taken place, so I administered the tests again, this time having her use the strategies we used in our reading group. She FLEW through it. Not just with partial success but with full, bold, torrential success. I took the assessments to her classroom teacher and I could barely manage to show the results without getting choked up. Something WORKED. And it isn't just working on assessments, it's working in her LIFE. And that is what matters. A shining beam of success to motivate her to not give up. Glorious.
And that's why I love my job.
I've never gotten emotional over a paycheck.
But I HAVE gotten emotional over seeing my students rise to the occasion. In my seven years of teaching, I have seen a number of students hit a wall. Frustration mounting. And suddenly, they pop up over the top of the wall. That feeling of success does not go away. That is lasting. I would hope that those experiences stick with my students in a way that it begins to define them. I want them to know that a challenge is a regular, expected life event and that each time they come up against a challenge, hard work and perseverance will win. And that they would begin to define their lives as successful, growing people.
I began storing these tales of success in my memory. Stacking each story next to the one before. But they are beginning to moosh together. So here is success story number one:
I have a student who struggles in reading. She was scoring about a year and a half behind her grade level. Sometimes there is a quick fix for academic issues. But sometimes these issues respond to obscure solutions... and finding that solution is like finding a needle in a haystack. I hoped that something would click with her, and it appeared like it had. So, I gave her an assessment. Her assessment showed no growth from the previous year. How could this be? NO growth? We had been working so hard. I began to feel ineffective and hopeless. I can only imagine what she must have been feeling. I didn't want to believe that no growth had taken place, so I administered the tests again, this time having her use the strategies we used in our reading group. She FLEW through it. Not just with partial success but with full, bold, torrential success. I took the assessments to her classroom teacher and I could barely manage to show the results without getting choked up. Something WORKED. And it isn't just working on assessments, it's working in her LIFE. And that is what matters. A shining beam of success to motivate her to not give up. Glorious.
And that's why I love my job.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
He's Leaving
Our principal is leaving. We learned this just a few weeks ago. Three, maybe. I'm not sure I can articulate what this means to me or to our staff. If I talk about it honestly, you would only think I'm being dramatic.
Working at our school is not like having a corporate job. It's truly like going to be with a family. And he is the center of our school. So losing him is like losing the glue that holds our school together. It's like losing our father. I know that seems extreme. But Roy has always done what is best for our family. He's made our school what it is now - which is one of the best elementary schools in the state. Every one of us is proud to be a part of that school. It's hard to see the future from here. He has shaped my formative years as a teacher. He's provided an environment where I've had freedom to develop my philosophies, to push the limits of achievement with my kids, and to love being a teacher. He's a huge part of my professional accomplishments.
We all know that we will do fine. Everything will be okay. But it's not going to be the same. We want to hear his voice over the intercom each morning, greeting the kids with "Good morning Antelope Trails kids! I'm so glad you're here today! Please stand for the pledge." We want to know we have him to fall back on when things fall apart for us. We want to hear him sing "Blue Christmas" before we head out for Christmas break. No one knows us and cares about us like Roy does.
I think part of my security as a teacher was wrapped up in his leadership. Now, I don't know that I want to be back in my job next year. I'm sorting out opportunities now... International Baccalaureate, Kagan Cooperative Learning, a Master's in Administration. It's time. And it is exciting, but I don't want Roy to leave.
Working at our school is not like having a corporate job. It's truly like going to be with a family. And he is the center of our school. So losing him is like losing the glue that holds our school together. It's like losing our father. I know that seems extreme. But Roy has always done what is best for our family. He's made our school what it is now - which is one of the best elementary schools in the state. Every one of us is proud to be a part of that school. It's hard to see the future from here. He has shaped my formative years as a teacher. He's provided an environment where I've had freedom to develop my philosophies, to push the limits of achievement with my kids, and to love being a teacher. He's a huge part of my professional accomplishments.
We all know that we will do fine. Everything will be okay. But it's not going to be the same. We want to hear his voice over the intercom each morning, greeting the kids with "Good morning Antelope Trails kids! I'm so glad you're here today! Please stand for the pledge." We want to know we have him to fall back on when things fall apart for us. We want to hear him sing "Blue Christmas" before we head out for Christmas break. No one knows us and cares about us like Roy does.
I think part of my security as a teacher was wrapped up in his leadership. Now, I don't know that I want to be back in my job next year. I'm sorting out opportunities now... International Baccalaureate, Kagan Cooperative Learning, a Master's in Administration. It's time. And it is exciting, but I don't want Roy to leave.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Pet Peeve #1
Ok, people. I presently have 540 students. This is my sixth year of teaching, which means that I have taught over 1100 students. I am pretty good with names, I think. Well, Lisa will probably read this and completely disagree. It's true. Those little guys... 1st grade and under... they are tough. For the most part, though, I know my kids names.
Mya and Sarah teach kids named Sayuki and Yuki and Tayuka (I don't really know this as a fact - I am guessing) I can imagine it's probably pretty tough at first to match names with faces. Knowing their names, in itself, is a challenge.
Even harder is memorizing the exact spelling of every child's name... C-A-I-T-L-Y-N or K-A-T-E-L-Y-N or K-A-I-T-L-I-N. A-I-D-A-N or A-Y-D-E-N or A-Y-D-A-N. What about J-H-A-Y-D-E or when I've got a H-A-L-L-I-E pronounced Hayley or a H-A-L-E-Y pronounced Hallie or a Braden and Brendan in the same class? Michayla Mikahla MiKayla McKenna Kenna Kennedy. How about twins? And then there's the nearly identical siblings. GEEZ!!!! Considering this predicament, I'm pretty proud when I can name 95% of my students right off the bat.
So you can imagine my lack of compassion when a parent mentions how her daughter will be devastated that I spelled her name wrong on a sheet that was to be posted on my door for two days. Devastated? Really? She will have her feelings hurt. Oh, precious. How could that nasty music teacher have dared spell your name wrong? Now, I understand that I need to have correct spellings on printed items like programs - it's precious grade school memorabilia for Pete's sake. But I am not going to spend the ridiculous amounts of time to look every child's name up in each class to find the exact spelling on a piece of paper that is notifying a group of children of some minor detail. Really. That is a waste of taxpayer money. So if your daughter is so sensitive about her name being spelled wrong, you might want to tell her to tighten up her bootstraps and to grow a pair because she's frankly lucky that no one is calling her a doodyhead or divotface.
Mya and Sarah teach kids named Sayuki and Yuki and Tayuka (I don't really know this as a fact - I am guessing) I can imagine it's probably pretty tough at first to match names with faces. Knowing their names, in itself, is a challenge.
Even harder is memorizing the exact spelling of every child's name... C-A-I-T-L-Y-N or K-A-T-E-L-Y-N or K-A-I-T-L-I-N. A-I-D-A-N or A-Y-D-E-N or A-Y-D-A-N. What about J-H-A-Y-D-E or when I've got a H-A-L-L-I-E pronounced Hayley or a H-A-L-E-Y pronounced Hallie or a Braden and Brendan in the same class? Michayla Mikahla MiKayla McKenna Kenna Kennedy. How about twins? And then there's the nearly identical siblings. GEEZ!!!! Considering this predicament, I'm pretty proud when I can name 95% of my students right off the bat.
So you can imagine my lack of compassion when a parent mentions how her daughter will be devastated that I spelled her name wrong on a sheet that was to be posted on my door for two days. Devastated? Really? She will have her feelings hurt. Oh, precious. How could that nasty music teacher have dared spell your name wrong? Now, I understand that I need to have correct spellings on printed items like programs - it's precious grade school memorabilia for Pete's sake. But I am not going to spend the ridiculous amounts of time to look every child's name up in each class to find the exact spelling on a piece of paper that is notifying a group of children of some minor detail. Really. That is a waste of taxpayer money. So if your daughter is so sensitive about her name being spelled wrong, you might want to tell her to tighten up her bootstraps and to grow a pair because she's frankly lucky that no one is calling her a doodyhead or divotface.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
People's History
I am reading A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn. If I had more time, I would read stuff like this all the time. And by 'stuff like this', I mean 'books'. I read Letters to a Young Conservative by Dinesh D'Souza a number of years ago. It got me extremely charged up to understand the state of the union and the Constitution and everything social and political. I was encouraged to not remain ignorant of pertinent issues.
I'm really looking forward to this book. I read through most of the first chapter while waiting at the DMV. It discusses the discovery of the New World by Columbus and various other explorers and the resulting impact on the native cultures. One of the points he targets is the idea that terrible atrocities have essentially been justified by the perspective of historians through the ages. The mass genocide of many of the native cultures of the Americas was deemed necessary for advancement of European culture in the New World. History is a balance of perspectives. This book seeks to present history from many perspectives - not just the perspectives of explorers and politicians.
This book is going to spark questions. I love that. Isn't that what we want, as learners? To be sparked alive with questions in what we are learning? And what a fantastic implication for teachers.
My friend, Mya, was talking about how her experience living in Japan has taught her that who she is as a person is partially due to her American heritage. That American history, which once used to seem fairly abstract and detached from her life, has now come alive in the very American way she relates to the world. What does that mean, really? And how would I relate to the world differently if I was not this person I am now?
This is why I am reading this book.
I'm really looking forward to this book. I read through most of the first chapter while waiting at the DMV. It discusses the discovery of the New World by Columbus and various other explorers and the resulting impact on the native cultures. One of the points he targets is the idea that terrible atrocities have essentially been justified by the perspective of historians through the ages. The mass genocide of many of the native cultures of the Americas was deemed necessary for advancement of European culture in the New World. History is a balance of perspectives. This book seeks to present history from many perspectives - not just the perspectives of explorers and politicians.
This book is going to spark questions. I love that. Isn't that what we want, as learners? To be sparked alive with questions in what we are learning? And what a fantastic implication for teachers.
My friend, Mya, was talking about how her experience living in Japan has taught her that who she is as a person is partially due to her American heritage. That American history, which once used to seem fairly abstract and detached from her life, has now come alive in the very American way she relates to the world. What does that mean, really? And how would I relate to the world differently if I was not this person I am now?
This is why I am reading this book.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Liar
I've been lying for two years. Lying. To a (now) ten-year-old girl. She's a fan of John Mayer - as am I. I finally admitted to her today in class, that indeed, I am NOT the long-time girlfriend of John Mayer OR Jason Mraz as I so passionately attested to for the past two years.
It was funny, I thought. She did, too. I know it. But it's the end of an era. And I have a real live boyfriend now. So, goodbye John Mayer. Goodbye Jason Mraz. So long to what may have been.
It was funny, I thought. She did, too. I know it. But it's the end of an era. And I have a real live boyfriend now. So, goodbye John Mayer. Goodbye Jason Mraz. So long to what may have been.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Conversing with a Six-Year-Old
Her - What's that stuff you're drinking?
Me - Potion.
What??!!
It's potion.
What does it do?
Turns my toes green.
Nooo!!!! DON'TDRINKIT!!!!!!
It tastes good. *sip* My toes are tingling. They itch too.
(with furrowed brow) ARE THEY GOING TO TURN GREEN?
Yes.
STOP IT RIGHT NOW! STOP DRINKING THAT!
Ok. ... Hey. Did you know that when people turn into monsters, the first thing that turns green is their toes?
Me - Potion.
What??!!
It's potion.
What does it do?
Turns my toes green.
Nooo!!!! DON'TDRINKIT!!!!!!
It tastes good. *sip* My toes are tingling. They itch too.
(with furrowed brow) ARE THEY GOING TO TURN GREEN?
Yes.
STOP IT RIGHT NOW! STOP DRINKING THAT!
Ok. ... Hey. Did you know that when people turn into monsters, the first thing that turns green is their toes?
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Gaining Focus
School starts this week. To be completely honest, I have absolutely no focus. No drive. What happened? Is this actually me? I'm nervous. Because I know if I start the year like this, I will hate every moment. What is it going to take for me to get in the game? I've let other things take huge precedence in my life. Things which have no reason being there right now. I'm upset that I let this happen. I know what it will take, too. Being alone. Thinking and reading. Praying. Restructuring my priorities. Going for a run. I'm afraid that if I don't take the time to get focused, this year could turn out to be quite terrible. I am worried.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
A Minute of My Brain Today
stage left. stage right. how are we going to get the props there? that was a really great scene. awesome inflection! i guess we can do without the gong. i know she wasn't center stage but at this point, i don't have the patience to mess with it. seriously... you have had your lines for five months and you don't know them still? where is your prop? can i trust you not to miss your cue? pitches, guys. please listen to the music. watch me! get that bench out. whoa. totally lost. stage voices - louder! do you even know the words to this song? didn't i send that e-mail last week? when are we going to go over lights? what about the curtain? and the fog machine? how's that going to work? oh. they're hungry. they need food. be quiet! open up. do you see you are blocking the people behind you? stand in the window! watch it with the swords! you missed your cue because you were eating a snack. hmmm. wow... that was incredible. amazing! wait for that scene change music. you come on stage during a blackout. what are the motions for that? give me more energy, please. videographer. photographer. program. t-shirts. kudos board. headlamps. directions to the place. costumes. costume change. get me out of here. we need more rehearsal. my dogs. bills. adam. second grade assessments. plan garage band unit. i am hungry. go eat. go back to work. fix the car. cancel guitar lessons. i need a beer.
STOP!
breathe.
fizzle... sizzle... poof...
STOP!
breathe.
fizzle... sizzle... poof...
Friday, January 16, 2009
Third Grade Breakup
So here is how it goes. A conversation between me and my sweet student...
"My mom said I'm too young to have a boyfriend. So I have to dump him."
"Yeah. Third grade is pretty young for a serious relationship."
"Yeah. He rubs my back."
"That's bad news."
"I'm gonna dump him. COLE!!!!!! I GOTTA TELL YOU SOMETHING!!!!! It's over. We were never really together to begin with." And she runs away laughing. With her two friends.
He stands there stunned for a moment. Eyes getting a little cloudy. Chance of precipitation increasing. And I step in. "Hey, Cole. What's up? I heard you beat Ben in a race yesterday."
"... Yeah. I did."
"You ok? What'd she say?"
"Nothing."
In runs the chick crew again. "COLE! Aren't you going to chase us?" Pause. Big smiles. And he takes off running after her and her friends just slow enough to give them a head start.
Hmmm... so that's how it's done.
"My mom said I'm too young to have a boyfriend. So I have to dump him."
"Yeah. Third grade is pretty young for a serious relationship."
"Yeah. He rubs my back."
"That's bad news."
"I'm gonna dump him. COLE!!!!!! I GOTTA TELL YOU SOMETHING!!!!! It's over. We were never really together to begin with." And she runs away laughing. With her two friends.
He stands there stunned for a moment. Eyes getting a little cloudy. Chance of precipitation increasing. And I step in. "Hey, Cole. What's up? I heard you beat Ben in a race yesterday."
"... Yeah. I did."
"You ok? What'd she say?"
"Nothing."
In runs the chick crew again. "COLE! Aren't you going to chase us?" Pause. Big smiles. And he takes off running after her and her friends just slow enough to give them a head start.
Hmmm... so that's how it's done.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Somebody's Watching...
So, I have a student teacher.
And it makes me painfully aware of every good teaching practice that I used to do that I now slack on. I have all these structures and strategies that I used to practice. Things that used to keep me organized. Ideas I used to want to develop. And now everything is in a crumpled pile at the recesses of my mind. Why did I stop these things? Time? Because I am lazy?
One year, I sewed a huge six by four foot fabric pocket chart with eight rows of nine colors in each row. For my recorder unit. Sewed it. No pattern. Do I even sew? I cut each pocket. Hemmed it. Lined it up. And sewed it onto a big black sheet. Do you know how many pockets that is? Seventy-two. And as I proudly made the finishing touches on my big project... I absentmindedly burned through it with a hot iron. Good. Fantastic.
My plan book. I have a beautiful way to keep track of what my kiddos are learning in six-week chunks. And when I use it, I am on top of the world. I line up all the activities with standards, benchmarks, and expectations to ensure that my kids are getting it all. It sits on my desk. And sits. I look at it. And it sits.
All my transition songs. I have songs for getting into a circle. Songs for lining up. Songs for getting things out. Songs for putting things away. Songs for keeping hands still. Songs for zipping your lips. These are songs that good music teachers use to make classroom management simple. Do I use them? Nah. Do I even teach songs, I wonder? I hate teaching songs. "Here, copy after me." How many times must I do that? That's not the only way to teach songs, of course. But it certainly is the default. I hate the default.
I am a good teacher. I know it. I am a really, really good teacher. And I could certainly be a better teacher if I could get myself together. Here's why I am a good music teacher... I try to be intentional about not shutting kids down. I try to make sure that they are encouraged enough to keep trying music even though they aren't perfect at it. I don't want them to give up before they even have given themselves a chance. My kids can sightread. My kids are thoughtful musicians. And excellent singers. I give my kids a chance to do things that most music teachers are scared to even think about. And those are things that they will remember for the rest of their lives.
But I don't teach enough songs. I do a crappy job teaching instrument families. And music history. I haven't taken my kids on a field trip. Integrating literature and music... not enough. International folk songs. Hmm. I don't make the older kids use their journals as much as I should. I haven't used my cool grouping technique in months. They love it. I suck at Orff technique.
Thanks, student teacher. I have a lot of work ahead of me.
And it makes me painfully aware of every good teaching practice that I used to do that I now slack on. I have all these structures and strategies that I used to practice. Things that used to keep me organized. Ideas I used to want to develop. And now everything is in a crumpled pile at the recesses of my mind. Why did I stop these things? Time? Because I am lazy?
One year, I sewed a huge six by four foot fabric pocket chart with eight rows of nine colors in each row. For my recorder unit. Sewed it. No pattern. Do I even sew? I cut each pocket. Hemmed it. Lined it up. And sewed it onto a big black sheet. Do you know how many pockets that is? Seventy-two. And as I proudly made the finishing touches on my big project... I absentmindedly burned through it with a hot iron. Good. Fantastic.
My plan book. I have a beautiful way to keep track of what my kiddos are learning in six-week chunks. And when I use it, I am on top of the world. I line up all the activities with standards, benchmarks, and expectations to ensure that my kids are getting it all. It sits on my desk. And sits. I look at it. And it sits.
All my transition songs. I have songs for getting into a circle. Songs for lining up. Songs for getting things out. Songs for putting things away. Songs for keeping hands still. Songs for zipping your lips. These are songs that good music teachers use to make classroom management simple. Do I use them? Nah. Do I even teach songs, I wonder? I hate teaching songs. "Here, copy after me." How many times must I do that? That's not the only way to teach songs, of course. But it certainly is the default. I hate the default.
I am a good teacher. I know it. I am a really, really good teacher. And I could certainly be a better teacher if I could get myself together. Here's why I am a good music teacher... I try to be intentional about not shutting kids down. I try to make sure that they are encouraged enough to keep trying music even though they aren't perfect at it. I don't want them to give up before they even have given themselves a chance. My kids can sightread. My kids are thoughtful musicians. And excellent singers. I give my kids a chance to do things that most music teachers are scared to even think about. And those are things that they will remember for the rest of their lives.
But I don't teach enough songs. I do a crappy job teaching instrument families. And music history. I haven't taken my kids on a field trip. Integrating literature and music... not enough. International folk songs. Hmm. I don't make the older kids use their journals as much as I should. I haven't used my cool grouping technique in months. They love it. I suck at Orff technique.
Thanks, student teacher. I have a lot of work ahead of me.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Your WHAT?!
"My weiner tickles."
WHAT?! Did I really just hear that? Weiner. Who uses that word? Well, a five-year-old. A five-year-old with a bit of an odd sensation in his nether-region. I was at the grocery store the other day. I saw a package of what I would call hot dogs. They didn't really fit up next together perfectly like a package of Oscar Mayers. They look like they tumbled from above and nestled in next to each other. They were wrapped tightly in plastic. Want to know what the label said? Weiners.
Now, in German, you pronounce the full long vowel sound of the second vowel. So what we would pronounce as wee-ner, they might pronounce as wine-er. Fascinating.
What possessed him to blurt this out in class? Was this a thought that couldn't possibly lay dormant in the boundaries of his own mind? Was it such a powerful realization that it had to escape his mind and make it's way... firing neurons through his brain to let sounds and syllables bubble across his tongue... thrusting this word around as though it were a well-polished trophy? Weiner.
What do parents teach their kids to refer to their nether-parts as? Weiner? Cookie? Foo? Willy? Hoo-ha? The English language.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Chad Has A Crush On Me (Part 2)
"You have a tat-TOO, Miss Renfroe?"
"Yes, Chad."
"Did it hurt?"
"Yes. It hurt alot."
"I like girls with tattoos"
(silence)
"Really, Miss Renfroe. I REALLY like girls with tattoos."
"That's not hard to believe, Chad."
"Yes, Chad."
"Did it hurt?"
"Yes. It hurt alot."
"I like girls with tattoos"
(silence)
"Really, Miss Renfroe. I REALLY like girls with tattoos."
"That's not hard to believe, Chad."
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Chad Has A Crush On Me
Chad is seven. When I gave him a reading test today, he kept making eyes at me. He was reading about teeth.
"Crocodiles have sharp teeth. RaaaaAAAARRRR!", he said.
And then raised his eyebrows at me and grinned.
"Some snakes have fangs."
He reached over and stuck his pointy fingers into my leg. "I'm venomous!"
"Interesting, Chad," I said, as I prodded him to continue reading.
"Girls these days..." he says, condescendingly.
This is the same kid who sang me "You Are My Sunshine" when I was sick. I love that kid.
"Crocodiles have sharp teeth. RaaaaAAAARRRR!", he said.
And then raised his eyebrows at me and grinned.
"Some snakes have fangs."
He reached over and stuck his pointy fingers into my leg. "I'm venomous!"
"Interesting, Chad," I said, as I prodded him to continue reading.
"Girls these days..." he says, condescendingly.
This is the same kid who sang me "You Are My Sunshine" when I was sick. I love that kid.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Love and Teaching
You know... I'm not sure that teaching is like anything else in this world.
I research and plan what I teach and research and plan the strategies and methods that will best convey this information. They come in the door. I show them things. And they usually learn what they decide to learn. I watch them and make some sort of judgement on their progress. And I write some sort of ridiculous number on a paper that goes home to their parents to show how their kids are doing in my class.
But what about the heart of education? Maybe it's not even that. Maybe it's the heart of being human. Each of these lessons made up of minutes of a day go by... nearly unnoticed... just as scheduled... nothing spectacular. And at the end of the year, I find I have a new bunch of beings around me. They are like the beings that I started with. But they are blossoming and turning into incredible, outstanding people. I feel almost as if I was walking down the beach and stopped to fill my hand with sand. Some trickles through my fingers. Some is blown away in the wind. And here I am, at the end of the year, with only grains of sand left in my hand. Only minutes are left of our time together.
So what, now, do I say? Do I bid them farewell without so much as a whisper in their direction? It's not what my heart says. "My dear students"... wait... too impersonal. "Hey, Pipsqueaks! Goombas!" That's better. "If all the time I have on this earth had run out today, what I would want to tell you is that I loved being your teacher. I loved showing you new things. I loved learning new things from you. I want you to know you are amazing. And I want you to know I love you. Not for being a great student. Not for having a great singing voice. Not for what you gave me or what you said to me. But I love you for who you are. All the beautiful parts of your heart that I get to see pouring out of you. And I will not forget you. You are the beat of my heart."
I research and plan what I teach and research and plan the strategies and methods that will best convey this information. They come in the door. I show them things. And they usually learn what they decide to learn. I watch them and make some sort of judgement on their progress. And I write some sort of ridiculous number on a paper that goes home to their parents to show how their kids are doing in my class.
But what about the heart of education? Maybe it's not even that. Maybe it's the heart of being human. Each of these lessons made up of minutes of a day go by... nearly unnoticed... just as scheduled... nothing spectacular. And at the end of the year, I find I have a new bunch of beings around me. They are like the beings that I started with. But they are blossoming and turning into incredible, outstanding people. I feel almost as if I was walking down the beach and stopped to fill my hand with sand. Some trickles through my fingers. Some is blown away in the wind. And here I am, at the end of the year, with only grains of sand left in my hand. Only minutes are left of our time together.
So what, now, do I say? Do I bid them farewell without so much as a whisper in their direction? It's not what my heart says. "My dear students"... wait... too impersonal. "Hey, Pipsqueaks! Goombas!" That's better. "If all the time I have on this earth had run out today, what I would want to tell you is that I loved being your teacher. I loved showing you new things. I loved learning new things from you. I want you to know you are amazing. And I want you to know I love you. Not for being a great student. Not for having a great singing voice. Not for what you gave me or what you said to me. But I love you for who you are. All the beautiful parts of your heart that I get to see pouring out of you. And I will not forget you. You are the beat of my heart."
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
How To Not Get Tickled
I am a teacher. I get to hear kidstuff all day long. I get to see kids pick their boogers. I get to see them eat it. I get to hear them cry about being cut in line. I get to see them waddle off to the office to get a clean pair of pants. It really is a very thrilling life.
So this week, in the middle of a guitar lesson, one of my kids stops in the middle of a song, looks up at me, and says, "Hey... if someone says - 'Are you ticklish?' - you know they are going to tickle you no matter what you say. You say yes - you get tickled. You say no - you get tickled. The only way you don't get tickled is if you say, 'NO! I HAVE DIARRHEA!'. Right?"
Pure Genius.
So this week, in the middle of a guitar lesson, one of my kids stops in the middle of a song, looks up at me, and says, "Hey... if someone says - 'Are you ticklish?' - you know they are going to tickle you no matter what you say. You say yes - you get tickled. You say no - you get tickled. The only way you don't get tickled is if you say, 'NO! I HAVE DIARRHEA!'. Right?"
Pure Genius.
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