Planting Seeds

I have thought a lot lately about seeds, particularly planting them. Not in a literal sense, but in a figurative, grateful way. When you teach for a living it is hard sometimes to recognize your value and the difference you make. I didn't realize this difficulty until someone asked me why I had taken up woodworking. I hadn't thought about it until that point - why woodworking? The answer came surprisingly easy, because I could see the result! It was a peculiar pleasure to put forth effort and see an immediate result. It was also clear to me that my profession did not always offer such rapid and clear feedback. This of course put me on a path to examine the fruits of my labor, the effects of a lifetime of unseen work.
I sat one afternoon and mused on my impact on the world. I knew that it was generally accepted that as a teacher, I made a difference, but how? I started to recall the feedback I received from students who had returned or who I had bumped into (physically and virtually) through the years. One very odd and poignant pattern emerged: If I could have recalled every word uttered to that student, the thing that stuck with her would not have been on my top 100 anticipated aphorisms. You never know how one word, one gentle admonition, one encouragement can impact a life. You would have to know where that human "is" at the moment of interchange to understand how your intended gesture is not only conceptualized at the moment, but incubated for later reflection as well. Students have quoted me saying things I honestly don't think I said - and I never contradict them.
Sadly, I suppose, there are also negative contributions we make to their development that we probably never hear about. I do hear about the negative impact of other teachers all the time. I am not sure we can ever be sure what we say is received and stored with the same effect as we desire, but I am sure that I can do a better job reaching more students than I currently do. My goal is to make sure there are no invisible students in any of my classes.
This past January, I was invited to deliver the keynote address at an ESL conference in Amman, Jordan. It took me a long time to develop the speech that was to be on motivating learning and learners. I didn't procrastinate, it just didn't crystallize until hours before my speech. I ended up talking about "knuckleheads, the choir, and those in the middle." It was well received.
My premise was that these were the three types of students in a classroom, and motivation was different for each group. All three are challenging, and need a distinct approach. I began with the choir - those eager students who always have their hands up, ready to participate, hanging on every word. The danger with this group is to eventually take them for granted and to ignore them for the sake of the others. How do you keep them motivated when you are constantly looking past their frenetically waved hands to the other students? I suggest that you connect with them outside of class, acknowledging them in the hallways, at lunch, in public. They can make great peer teachers if you can shift their goals from your attention to the welfare of their classmates. And finally, I think you need to find creative ways to give them the attention they desire: a note after class, asking them to assist you with some basic classroom chores, emailing if appropriate, nominating them for recognition, etc. It is truly a shame when we marginalize these students in our attempts at egalitarian education.
In my hours of contemplation, I am often most concerned for the middle group of students who escape my detection when I am about my business of teaching. They are invisible by design - they want to escape detection. They will quietly, happily let me ramble on forever mistakenly thinking everyone is on the same page. Not long ago, I decided that I would "penetrate the gloom of their anonymity!" Their silence and withdrawn affect hurt them in the long run. Yes, they weren't put on the spot and embarrassed, but they were also never challenged and rewarded. It is my contention that we have to pull them up into the sun and engage them. For after all, many of these students don't stay in the middle, they either slide in with the knuckleheads or step up to the choir. I find I have a say in this valence.
I began to recognize and interact with all of these students, from calling role to gently teasing and encouraging them. I also worked hard to reward them and to support them when they took risks. I learned everything I could about them to help them relate their world and interests to my subject matter. My few successes here were my most rewarding.
I saved the knuckleheads for last, probably because I had much more expertise there, being a CRK (contrite reformed knucklehead) myself. I also told the audience that success with this group was seldom actualized at the moment, that the best you can hope to do is plant seeds with these students that will take root later and blossom. Not a great answer for a frustrated teacher here and now. I have found that often, these students need to be challenged creatively. I have also found that I could disarm them very effectively by interacting with them graciously outside fo the classroom, one-on-one. The classroom was their battlefield, they were naked and vulnerable outside it. Most importantly, I have vowed never to give up on these students, despite the poor feedback I receive in the lifetime of my relationship with them. I have learned this lesson from the few teachers who never gave up on me - I wish I could tell them now, what those small, kind gestures eventually taught me - perhaps I will.
So, I am now in the business of "seeing" my students and planting seeds. Not always rewarding at the moment, but my soul knows the eventual reward for my efforts, and God's grace that I have always felt when things worked well comforts me in my new found patience.