Teachers cannot be robots. If every school was furnished with teachers that had uniform teaching styles and opinions, then we would all have a limited view of our world. Everything would be black and white. The truth is this: teachers are humans, and humans all carry a different set of values. Although some of us were nearly certain our third grade teachers lived at school and didn't have lives, we must come to the reality that they are just like you and me. In fact, relatively soon, I will become one. I will have to make that tough decision of when to draw the line when it comes to authenticity in the classroom.
Where are the limits for expressing authenticity? To be honest, I'm not entirely sure there are limits . . . at least, I don't think there should be. I believe the best possible learning experience a student can receive is done so through a personal relationship with the instructor. In order for this comfortable environment to be created, the teacher should be genuine. Teachers need to be themselves because, more than likely, they can get their point across best when they are at their true state. Students can tell when their teacher is being fake. It can be detected so easily that as soon as the students catch on, all attention is lost. The moment a teacher puts on a mask and delivers information in a manner that is not sincerely his/hers, the personal connection with the students is immensely weakened. Learning can occur if the students do not feel comfortable.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
A Life Lesson a Day Keeps the Discomfort Away
There was an English teacher whose room was the pit-stop for several students during the passing periods of my high school. Some came for a mint- or fruit-flavored lifesaver candy, which were always in the back of the classroom. Others came to socialize with students who also chose this particular room to stop in. Most, however, came to listen to the teacher with a different life lesson each day. Let's call her T.Q.
T.Q. was not your ordinary high school English teacher. She tap-danced to demonstrate how to vary sentence structures. On your birthday, she let you dig for a surprise in the treasure box. If you looked particularly nice any day in class, she cued up "I'm Too Sexy" on her boom-box and demanded you do the "catwalk." She occasionally picked a student for the whole class to interview. We students were her family. At the end of every single class, she would say, "I love you, and you are very special." It was clear she meant what she said. Compassion was something T.Q. showed on a daily basis.
T.Q., similarly to how an elementary school teacher readies her class for story time, would sit at the front of the room at the beginning of each class. Life lessons were given every day, no matter what. She shared stories that were happy, emails that were funny, and personal experiences that were downright depressing. Because she took the time to share these stories with us, a deep connection was created between T.Q. and the students. She showed compassion on a daily basis; there was absolutely no doubt that she was going above and beyond what was expected of her. T.Q. didn't just teach us about grammar -- she taught us what it felt like for someone to truly care.
The story that really got me tear-filled was something personal T.Q. decided to share with us. She told us about how she was so happy and blessed to have three beautiful daughters and a wonderful husband. Then she told us about how she nearly lost every bit of that. T.Q. began to have horrific migraines. When she would wake up each morning, her pillow would be mysteriously damp. She soon realized that the dampness was from fluid draining out of her ear at night. Thinking the worst, she scheduled a doctor's appointment. The doctor told her there was nothing to worry about. A simple tube was to be inserted in her ear, and her symptoms would disappear in no time. As it turns out, many appointments later, this tube was completely worthless. Feeling like she had no other choice, T.Q. took matters into her own hands. She Googled her symptoms, which led to what she was fearful of -- a brain tumor.
T.Q. had to have a few surgeries, but she survived. When she shared this with us, she let us into her life. The invisible line that most teachers draw to separate school from their personal lives did not exist in her classroom. Personally, her life lessons were sometimes exactly what I needed to hear on a particular day. I believe most of my peers felt the same way. I know this because her room was never empty. Before, during, and after school, I would drop in to visit T.Q. and find her talking with other students. Her compassion made her more than a teacher. I will never forget T.Q.
T.Q. was not your ordinary high school English teacher. She tap-danced to demonstrate how to vary sentence structures. On your birthday, she let you dig for a surprise in the treasure box. If you looked particularly nice any day in class, she cued up "I'm Too Sexy" on her boom-box and demanded you do the "catwalk." She occasionally picked a student for the whole class to interview. We students were her family. At the end of every single class, she would say, "I love you, and you are very special." It was clear she meant what she said. Compassion was something T.Q. showed on a daily basis.
T.Q., similarly to how an elementary school teacher readies her class for story time, would sit at the front of the room at the beginning of each class. Life lessons were given every day, no matter what. She shared stories that were happy, emails that were funny, and personal experiences that were downright depressing. Because she took the time to share these stories with us, a deep connection was created between T.Q. and the students. She showed compassion on a daily basis; there was absolutely no doubt that she was going above and beyond what was expected of her. T.Q. didn't just teach us about grammar -- she taught us what it felt like for someone to truly care.
The story that really got me tear-filled was something personal T.Q. decided to share with us. She told us about how she was so happy and blessed to have three beautiful daughters and a wonderful husband. Then she told us about how she nearly lost every bit of that. T.Q. began to have horrific migraines. When she would wake up each morning, her pillow would be mysteriously damp. She soon realized that the dampness was from fluid draining out of her ear at night. Thinking the worst, she scheduled a doctor's appointment. The doctor told her there was nothing to worry about. A simple tube was to be inserted in her ear, and her symptoms would disappear in no time. As it turns out, many appointments later, this tube was completely worthless. Feeling like she had no other choice, T.Q. took matters into her own hands. She Googled her symptoms, which led to what she was fearful of -- a brain tumor.
T.Q. had to have a few surgeries, but she survived. When she shared this with us, she let us into her life. The invisible line that most teachers draw to separate school from their personal lives did not exist in her classroom. Personally, her life lessons were sometimes exactly what I needed to hear on a particular day. I believe most of my peers felt the same way. I know this because her room was never empty. Before, during, and after school, I would drop in to visit T.Q. and find her talking with other students. Her compassion made her more than a teacher. I will never forget T.Q.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Respect: A Two-Lane Road
While driving along down an empty country road, it is easy to forget that you may not be the only traveler present. It could be the very moment you see a pair of headlights in the distance that pulls you back into the reality that you are not the only driver. Like sharing a road, teachers and students must coexist and carry the mindset that one group cannot function if the other is ignored. Respect is an important variable for both the process of learning and driving. Without respect, the foundation that is constructed so that knowledge and wisdom can be successfully absorbed by students crumbles. Similarly, without being respectful of those who share the road with you, your whole life could fall apart within seconds. But how is it that we, as human beings, learn to be respectful? The answer is simple: respect must be exemplified by authoritative figures.
Respect is the key to unveiling the secrets of how to efficiently run a classroom. Both students and teachers must listen and value each other in order for any sort of learning process to take place. Respectful teachers are patient, while respectful students are polite. Without this respect, chaos catapults itself into the heart of the classroom; any previous structure is unraveled, and focus is lost. Teachers must be the ones to set the example. They must take the initiative to behave in such a way that the students can clearly see that respect is a two-lane road -- if respect is given, it is returned. If this mentality is established in the classroom, learning can take place with ease.
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