I have been considering writing a book for sometime now. A friend said something about it on a FB post the other day, and even though I am never sure when he is serious or not, it reminded me of this ongoing procrastination. The book is here, somewhere buried waiting for a bit of patience and elbow grease. I can write it, as I know I have become a good teacher, and more importantly, I have tracked down many of those intuitive tools I have developed and can now put words to them so that I can share them. Soon come as my Jamaican friends are fond of saying.
It is odd that everything I have learned about teaching has been taught me by my students. I went to a teaching college and walked away with a fair bit of knowledge and no skills at all. I have had several good role models that have taught me much, but they did not teach me how to teach. I found out early that I could borrow a few things, but I had to be true to myself, and that meant finding my own way over a very long road. I suppose it wasn't fair to those early students I stumbled over as I grew stronger and more confident. But I would like to think I gave back a little to them. As Oliver Sacks noted, I was not me, I was borrowing the will of my students. It was and always has been my students.
I have taught all ages all over the world. I have taught some of the first distance courses for a midwest university with cutting edge technology, and I have taught in the dirt in a refugee camp. For awhile, I believed that they responded to me and I motivated them. I was so wrong. It was their grace, patience, and curiosity that feed me. I suppose I am just some sort of crazy mirror that lets them see things in a new and different way, or at least keeps them intrigued until their vision adjusts.
I am still honing my craft, still learning how to use their energy and will to enhance the things we share. This past weekend, I wasn't feeling well and caught myself being a bit impatient with a few students. I decided to take a break and engaged one of the women in some small talk. I asked about her family and she responded politely. I probed a bit more and discovered that she had three children, two with autism. She can only break away for a few hours on weekend days to learn some English. That five minutes of discourse renewed me and I gained a new perspective of the day's events. That has become teaching for me - reaching out and reframing the exchange in the classroom.
I am trying to get back to Africa and/or Jordan later this summer. I still have work to do, but in reality, I need some more recharging. I spend so much of my days anymore mired in pragmatics and small politics, trying to help orchestrate larger initiatives, hoping to impact greater retention and student success, that I miss the small communions that make me smile and that fill in the recesses that still weaken my soul. I will start on that book soon. I will.
It is odd that everything I have learned about teaching has been taught me by my students. I went to a teaching college and walked away with a fair bit of knowledge and no skills at all. I have had several good role models that have taught me much, but they did not teach me how to teach. I found out early that I could borrow a few things, but I had to be true to myself, and that meant finding my own way over a very long road. I suppose it wasn't fair to those early students I stumbled over as I grew stronger and more confident. But I would like to think I gave back a little to them. As Oliver Sacks noted, I was not me, I was borrowing the will of my students. It was and always has been my students.
I have taught all ages all over the world. I have taught some of the first distance courses for a midwest university with cutting edge technology, and I have taught in the dirt in a refugee camp. For awhile, I believed that they responded to me and I motivated them. I was so wrong. It was their grace, patience, and curiosity that feed me. I suppose I am just some sort of crazy mirror that lets them see things in a new and different way, or at least keeps them intrigued until their vision adjusts.
I am still honing my craft, still learning how to use their energy and will to enhance the things we share. This past weekend, I wasn't feeling well and caught myself being a bit impatient with a few students. I decided to take a break and engaged one of the women in some small talk. I asked about her family and she responded politely. I probed a bit more and discovered that she had three children, two with autism. She can only break away for a few hours on weekend days to learn some English. That five minutes of discourse renewed me and I gained a new perspective of the day's events. That has become teaching for me - reaching out and reframing the exchange in the classroom.
I am trying to get back to Africa and/or Jordan later this summer. I still have work to do, but in reality, I need some more recharging. I spend so much of my days anymore mired in pragmatics and small politics, trying to help orchestrate larger initiatives, hoping to impact greater retention and student success, that I miss the small communions that make me smile and that fill in the recesses that still weaken my soul. I will start on that book soon. I will.
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