A Most Heavenly Day

Today I worked in my primary placement classroom from 7:15 to 4:15--that's nine hours. When I left the building, I felt refreshed, rested, and immensely happy. I almost couldn't believe the mood I was in: it was magical and strange, like I was in a feel-good movie. Even remembering all the homework I still had left to do could not bring me down. Just what happened in this extraordinary day? It's so hard to explain--it wasn't anything big; it was a lot of small moments. Thinking back, I remember feeling love for every single student in my room--yes, every single one. I looked at them all, one by one, to confirm their lovableness! They each are a little light shining out into the world, each a precious person making sense of the world and trying to become their best selves. I saw them showing respect to each other, I saw them struggling with math problems, I saw them asking really important questions, and I saw them laughing and enjoying each others' company. I remember feeling love coming back to me. Kids lingered to talk to me, kids smiled at me, kids looked at me for approval as they worked their math problems, kids paid attention to me. Then there was the joy of spending the day with a masterful teacher who is enthusiastic and able to create a magical environment where students feel safe and experience joy. Throughout the day, whenever we had a free moment, we talked about what was happening with the kids and what it meant. It felt like we could never have enough time to say all we wanted to say to each other. It was energizing and stimulating and it helped me see who I am becoming as a teacher. Even walking the halls of the school was special. I smiled and said hello to all I encountered and they smiled and said hello back! Will every day I spend as a teacher be so enchanting?? No, of course not. But just one of these days, once in a while...ah, heaven.

Basking In the Climate

Some of you have heard me mention the extraordinary climate that exists in my 6th grade primary placement class. There is a feeling of energy and industriousness throughout the room that is infused with incredible warmth. Following is a brief anecdote that illustrates this climate perfectly.

Recently, I visited my primary classroom during "Dyad season." Since the students were enjoying free time, I decided to grade an important math assessment they had taken earlier. As I graded, I noticed frequent glances from John (a pseudonym). Every time I looked up from my work, he was looking my way. Finally, he walked over and asked if I had graded his paper yet. I told him I had and that he had only missed one problem. I showed him the problem and told him it was a very difficult problem and that, so far, no one had gotten it correct. He asked if anyone else had topped his score and I said, no, that his was the best score so far. Down he sat, but kept popping up to check if his score was still the best. He is a great math student and I know he was keenly disappointed that he missed one, but he really seemed anxious about someone getting a better score! When I came to Peter's (also pseudonym) paper, I found a paper with all the problems done correctly--even the really hard problem. Peter, in fact, was the only one up to that point who had correctly answered that tough problem. I wondered what John would do when he found out he wasn't number one anymore, so I mentally prepared words of wisdom to help him put his disappointment into perspective. Before I could finish my thoughts, John appeared at my side. I delivered the "bad" news: someone had gotten a better score on the math test and had gotten the hard problem correct. When he asked who it was, I told him. His reaction was swift. "Peter got #14 correct??!??" He grabbed Peter's paper and turned to the problem and looked it over with a very serious demeanor. Then, he broke into a huge grin and rushed over to Peter. "Peter, Peter, you got problem 14 correct!!!" He was excited, he was celebrating, he was patting Peter on the back. I stood and watched in wonderment, touched by a moment I will never forget.

Dyadium Interruptus

Anyone feeling like I am?? Our Dyad is almost over. A few weeks ago, I would have been relieved, even happy, to be able to check off another task, to get even closer to my destination. But that was before the 100+ kids I see everyday got to me. I am beginning to feel affection for these kids as I get to know them and try to peer behind their aloof personas. All the middle school attitude suddenly seems so endearing, the angst so noble. Getting to see tiny bits of what's hidden underneath them--the confusion, the sadness, the bravado, the hope--is a rare and beautiful privilege. Sure, the affection is pretty one-sided. I'm fairly marginal in these kids' lives. I sometimes get heckling and indifference, but I get where they're coming from. I carry on, working with the kids, one at a time, trying my best to really see their lovable selves and honor them in our tiny moments together. Just as connections are being built, away I go, gone from their lives forever.