At times I'd like to be able to experience every profession, just to truly test out the "field" and compare them to my own. I only semi-tried-out two, when I left school on "Take Your Daughter To Work" Day. Clearly it was a fifty-fifty shot I was either going to be working with people's teeth or teaching them, and since I'm easily grossed out, I went with teaching. Alright, that's really not exactly how that all went down, but see, we all have so many memories of being in school, or getting to leave school. What I'm really trying to get at here... I just feel really fortunate for having what I consider the perfect job for me. Being a teacher, I get to be apart of those really special/funny/awkward/proud moments for all kinds of kids. I wonder sometimes if the kids I've taught so far in my life, will remember me and if I helped shed some sort of light on... on anything. That's the thing with teaching, it's not strictly subjects that we teach. We teach how to approach a difficult problem, what to do when you're frustrated and your "head feels flatter than a pancake!", and how to have an open mind.
There are always teachers who stand out to each of us, who have made learning fun and meaningful, who have brought out the best in us, who said one little piece of advice or one little compliment and we are forever changed, forever grateful.
Likewise, there are always students who stand out to each teacher... the students who made an everlasting impact on the teacher; the students who have made the teacher grow.
I know what this feels like on both ends of the spectrum.
You don't see it coming, you don't know when you first meet a student if he or she will force you to learn more than you ever planned on.
And so, when I started teaching a first grader, *Jay, who knew I would have to dig so deep to find what would work for him. What DO I have to do for this child when his head is flat like a pancake, or when he gets tangled up in all of the words on the page, even just one word? How do I help him not wiggle around in his chair causing him to fall out? What am I supposed to do when he's near tears because the simplest question I ask him isn't something he knows how to answer? How am I supposed to show him that it's okay if his drawing of a lion doesn't look just like a real lion? All of these questions, continually, day to day, on top of my other students I was supposed to be teaching.
So as a teacher, I'm learning day by day. I researched and experimented and learned. I discovered what "works" for Jay, although each day is different and I had to be equally as prepared even when I thought I had it all figured out.
Although each child, each person, is different, if I have another student similar to Jay, maybe now I'll have a better idea of where to begin with him (or her). If his head feels flatter than a pancake, I'll tell him to take a deep breath, to rest his head for a bit until it's full again. I'll read through a new book with him at a good pace, stopping to let him fill in words I know he knows, help him to break up or sound out tricky words, and cross-check to make sure it makes sense in the story. I'll find a different kind of chair for him where it's near impossible to wiggle in, and if he still tries, I'll be there to remind him that it's harder to read when his body is moving all over the place. I'll give him plenty of time to think of an answer, and if the question just doesn't make sense, I'll stop and help him to make connections, talk him through it until it does make sense.
I don't give up easily. And I'll teach my kids to do the same. Just as I helped Jay draw animals. He was very precise and knew his drawings weren't going to compare to real animals, so he wouldn't try. Even after telling him it was okay, it doesn't have to be perfect because it's YOUR version of a lion. When that wasn't enough, I decided to help him to look at the picture in the book to see different shapes that made up the lion. ("I see kind of a long sideways oval for the body, do you?" "Look at all those lines going around his circular face for a mane, can you try to do that?").
It's a good feeling for both student and teacher when the student shows progress. My last day working with Jay, he was to read a sentence full of long vowel words and draw an illustration of what the sentence was about. I thought, "Uh oh, it's about a mule. Prepare yourself, Allie." With no reminders on how to sound out the long vowels, even after he got stuck, he stopped, slowed down, thought about it, and got it right. Then, naturally, asked what a mule was. I pointed to a picture of it in one of his other books. I waited as he looked at it, and there he went observing the shapes that made up this silly little mule. It turned out wonderfully. Who KNEW?! Who knew that in this child, who most would simply consider "wild"... I saw a curious, thoughtful, observant, precise, detail oriented, outstanding ball of energy.
Jay made me learn - he pushed me to become an even better teacher. And I'm so thankful that I had the opportunity to teach him. Now I'm off to a new adventure. Just like I always wanted, to go where I'm needed. Not to get away from my amazing friends and family, but to take on a challenge where I'll change the world little by little.
"To be afraid and leap regardless: There is such power in that." S. H.
Mia Michaels said something like "if what you're doing doesn't make you a little bit nervous, doesn't challenge you, and you become bored, then you probably should be done with it." I'm so nervous, so anxious, so thrilled and excited. I am just beginning. I know people are just waiting and wondering how I'm going to react when, as Jeremy said, a little sixth grade punk heckles me. Well, it will all be told right here. And who knows, maybe that little "punk" will be one of many who helps his teacher learn and become that much better. Who knows?
