Life Context
Trevor is a
ten year-old black boy sitting in an urban fifth-grade classroom looking very
thoughtful. He observes the activity, occasionally
participating, but mainly watching. When we first met, he had
big hair like an Afro, but with no form. It would take the
shape of his hands or whatever object upon which it rested. A
few weeks into my visits he shaved his hair to less than an inch.
He caught my interest on the first day. My cooperating
teacher advised me to watch the room, then go with my gut for which child would
make an interesting case study. Trevor intrigued me because
he seemed to have a dark side one minute, but the next he would be smiling and
patiently raising his hand to participate. I felt I could
learn something from this child.
All of
his classmates are black, in numerous shades. In fact, the
charter school he attends is mostly black, except for the teachers.
There seems to be an equal ratio of black and white adults in the
school. Most of his fifth-grade class is at fourth-grade math
and reading levels, including Trevor. The room is heavily decorated with content
posters papering most of the walls. The desks are all alike,
but there’s just not a lot of warmth to the room. The
whiteboard and plain walls give it a hard feeling beneath unforgiving
fluorescent lights. Were it not for those lights revealing
the dirt, the room would seem sterile. Despite the teacher’s
efforts, it does not feel learning-friendly.
For this case study to be
authentic, it would not be just for me to describe Trevor’s world through my
eyes, so I wanted him to tell me about it. To ensure he
didn’t feel singled out or know that I was giving his case special recognition,
I made my inquiries in a small group of his peers. It was
sometimes hard to discern opinion from regurgitated adult talk, even from his
occasional attempts to impress me linguistically. He seemed
to want to look at me, but wouldn’t maintain eye contact. I
think I got the gist of how Trevor perceives his life and I believe it is quite
sincere. He says his classroom is “big and
unorganized”. However, he thinks it is “educative”, obviously
referring to the mass of charts, maps and process reminders.
He and his peers always talk about “who goes with who” and the girls
frequently try to start fights about that subject. The
teacher is nice, but receives no other commentary. Basically,
as Trevor puts it, “People talks a lot.”
I ask what they think
about their school and Trevor tells me it’s “fit” for his mind.
This is a unique adjective for me in this context. He
explains this is because he feels he learns things early in preparation for the
next year of school. Despite being academically behind, it’s
good that he feels challenged and successful. He doesn’t
think much about being in an all black school because it is virtually all he’s
known. He doesn’t share any preconceived notions about white
people and tells me that he does not care if the teachers are black or white,
he’s had both, because he “just wants to learn”.
Trevor’s
neighborhood, in his estimation, is “not fit”. There are lots
of shootings and drug deals. He vividly describes the dealers
and their cars. Trevor thinks they’re “stupid for doing drugs” and he likes it
when the “raid team” often comes to take them and their cars away.
His matter-of-fact way of telling me this is unfortunate, but I see hope
that he admires the police. During the 2003 blackout, a car
crashed into a building “so that people could steal stuff”.
“Lots of car wrecks” happen in his neighborhood because “people are
always drunk”, so he doesn’t play outside very much.
Subsequently, he doesn’t have many friends away from
school.
Instead,
Trevor stays inside with his family. His mom doesn’t work and
the dad works second shift for a distribution plant. Trevor
has four brothers and one sister. At ten, he is the second
oldest, but the older sister only lives in his house intermittently.
His brothers are six, six, four and seven months. His
father is not the same as theirs, but he couldn’t really explain the
relationships. He only knows they’re a family.
A cousin who lived with them recently died of diabetes-related gangrene
on her birthday. An infant cousin drowned recently in the
bathtub. The details of these stories and the lack of emotion
in sharing them is again disturbing to me, I hope therapeutic for Trevor.
He tells me
that his mom has been trying to get a job, but she has to stay home with the
baby right now. He has proudly helped both parents with their
homework from classes at “WC3” (Wayne County
Community
College). Every night, except
Sunday, the entire family rides in their one car to pick up their dad from work
at ten o’clock, perhaps explaining his tired countenance. He
does admit that he and his mom stayed up the night before watching a moving
until one in the morning. Sometimes, if they finish their
homework, she will take all of the kids to Belle Isle to play on the playground
because “it’s safer there.” Most of the time though, Trevor
stays at home playing True Crime on his X-Box. He
prefers to be the cop.
As a
Learner
Trevor is
committed. A number of occasions when I’ve observed him with
coursework, he has requested to miss or be late for special activities to finish
the assignment. I have seen him work in all content areas and
each time he has put his heart into learning, then showing that he can do
it. When he doesn’t understand something, he does not get
frustrated and want to quit, it actually makes him try harder.
Even after weeks of MEAP testing, he sat for almost an hour working an
assignment that the rest of the class could barely focus on for twenty minutes.
He doesn’t just absorb the
material and restate it just to finish the lesson like many
students. He actually wants to try more exercises to solidify
his knowledge. However, he is by no means nerdy or super
smart.
As
mentioned, Trevor is at fourth-grade reading and math levels so he is challenged
by fifth-grade expectations. He tells me Social Studies is
his favorite subject and he likes to choose topics then write about
them. His writing mechanics are lacking, not only stemming
from his casual register, but also because he is challenged at writing things he
can discuss with sophistication. He seems to realize this and
has the confidence to use invented writing techniques to represent these ideas.
These have proven to confuse him later on, but he is willing
to improve.
Admittedly, he’s
challenged by math, but this is one area where I have specifically witnessed his
perseverance. Again, translation plays a role.
Once, I represented base ten numbers to him in dollars and with that
authentic application, he was able to calculate and respond much more quickly
and accurately than discussing the same operation abstractly.
The only accommodation
Trevor receives is after-school tutoring in math from his teacher.
She offered him the opportunity to improve his math skills and he
volunteers to stay a few times each week for one-on-one tutoring.
This seems to reflect his determination. While perhaps
eligible, he receives no other special services.
In his
special courses (art, music, physical education), Trevor pays attention and
works independently. He is no more or less prone to mischief
than most students, but tends to focus on his work first, then fools
around. Even in horseplay, he shows self-control and an
awareness of behavioral expectations.
Making Connections
In her book,
A Framework for Understanding Poverty, Ruby Payne describes how a person
must forgo certain relationships and behaviors to rise to the middle
class. I see potential in Trevor to do this because he shows
a desire for goals of more than his life currently affords.
He also appears open to a special, mentoring relationship, as exhibited
in his determination to succeed at his schoolwork, his apparent negligence of
peer opinion and his response to discipline. His attempt to
use language outside of his comfort zone is another example of eagerness to
rise.
Spending his
school career almost entirely with classmates of his own race may prove the
theory questioned in Kwanza and Me, that integrated schools diminish a
minority child’s psyche, but single-race schools build it up (Paley,
1995). Most fifth-graders would feel somewhat self-conscious
after a major change to their appearance, such as Trevor’s hairstyle change, but
it didn’t seem to phase him. This child’s positive self-image
seems unshakeable.
I’m not sure
if his emotional life has been neglected as is common with boys (Kindlon,
1999). Having a working father in the home and a mother who
does not work must provide a more stable set of role models that encourage his
positive outlook. I have not seen any evidence of a temper,
but his occasional silence and introverted personality may be a sign of pent-up
emotion. This could be the dark side I thought I had seen, or
merely just a boy’s way of “recharging” (Kindlon, 1999).
Trevor has
not always been trouble-free. In fourth-grade he brought a
hard-core pornographic magazine to school and didn’t appear affected at the
intense graphics. His lacking reaction to the material
shocked the administration. It may be characteristic of his
personality to be laid back, even in the face of consequences for poor
decisions. The implications of such a personality and
situation are intriguing on two fronts. First, here is a
child born into plenty of social and academic challenges.
Second is an evident inner resolve to succeed. As a
teacher, consideration must be given to address and support
both.
It seems
resources are readily provided to build up students when they end up in juvenile
detention facilities and out of mainstream schooling. Over
600,000 children go this way each year (Williams, 2004, p. 24).
Often their success stories are highlighted, as well as those of their
superstar teachers who turn delinquents into striving pupils.
But what to do with the student who has not hit bottom, but whose
situation places him precariously vulnerable to fall? In an
article about Detroit’s Benjamin Carson Academy, the nation’s first charter school
for juvenile offenders, principal Nathaniel King says, “We try to make kids like
school again, make them aware that they can learn, and we try to reach them at
their level.” (Williams, 2004, p. 26). Without degrading
King’s vital and positive work, I think of the many Trevors I have come across
and realize my role as a teacher is to do anything and everything I can to make
these same strides before students get to that low place.
The best defense is a good offense.
In this
spirit, it is imperative that all teachers educate ourselves in building,
recognizing and fostering motivation. Trevor seems to have an
uncommon level of intrinsic motivation, which, when recognized, should make
teaching him a little easier. He knows when he learns
something and it encourages him to try harder to master it.
Granted, he is still a fifth-grader and subject to transient lack of
focus due to his age, gender and home life, but he creates his own momentum from
learning. To foster such motivation, or build it in students
lacking, it is important to involve them in the assessment process.
Doing this will help develop self-monitoring and self-evaluation skills,
which are important in enhancing self-efficacy (Ormrod, 2003, p.
321). It guides the students to become invested in their own
success, which almost always leads to positive results. A
critical feature of nurturing motivation is the placement of value.
Whether it is identifying a student’s interests or showing your own
enthusiasm for a subject, “fostering value for academic subject matter” is a key
element in motivation (Ormrod, 2003, p. 399).
Insights and Reflection
In reviewing
my assessment of Trevor with his teacher, we both came to view him in a
different way. She realized that she may be too close at
times to see some of unique aspects of her students, such as Trevor’s commitment
to learn. This was jaded to her because he has a habit of not
turning in assignments. In her reflection, she realized how
convicted he was to learn material and we discussed instances where he was eager
to teach classmates things he recently mastered. We agree
that it is this perseverance that inspires us to try harder to teach such a
child.
The more we
analyzed the late assignments we realized that we had different impressions of
his home life. My investigation found a child,
supported by two parents in an environment where that was not
typical. I thought this contributed to his positive attitude
and comfortable presentation. His teacher, on the other hand,
knew only of his mother and only from occasions when she walked him to the car
to confirm a message would get home. She found it odd that
Trevor and his mom acted more like friends than parent and
child.
As I put the
pieces together and shared my information with her, it became clear that
Trevor’s dark side was probably a childhood suppressed. As
the oldest child of a family where the dad is gone most of the waking hours and
the mom is ill-educated, Trevor is, in effect, the other adult in his
house. Hence, staying up late watching movies with his mom
was probably not an uncommon event as she probably does treat him like more of a
friend than a son. Dealing with such traumatic experiences as
his neighborhood and the deaths of family member further pushed him into
adult-mode. It stands to reason that turning in fifth-grade
school assignments probably isn’t a big deal when your role at home is so far
above it. What appears to be a laid-back attitude may
actually be preoccupation with much greater responsibilities.
All of this
is consistent with the elements of poverty, as outlined by Ruby
Payne. Still there is a strong argument for the motivation
factor in helping this man-child to rise. He has improved
behaviorally over the past two years. The results of this
improvement have shown academically. I see an opportunity for
this correlation to be tapped to his advantage. His academic
work is inhibited only by his home situation and apparent lack of genuine
support, which is no small force. It is realizing these
connections that confirms, once again, my instincts as a teacher and drives me
to show him the benefits of exploiting this motivation.
Still, I
must put myself in the place of Trevor’s teacher and recognize the almost
impossible challenge of evaluating each student to this
degree. For every Trevor I figure out and learn to build up,
there will probably be ten that slip by, evade or defeat me.
No less, by merely identifying these things in one child, I am more
prepared to respond to them with ten others. When the day
comes that I have the chance to pursue these findings, it will be with Trevor’s
commitment that I encourage another child to rise. The bottom
line is: Win or lose, I will be fighting the good fight.
References
Kindlon, D. & Thompson, M.
(1999). Raising Cain. New York:
Ballantine Books.
Ormrod, J.E.
(2003). Educational Psychology: Developing
Learners. (4th ed.) Columbus, OH: Merrill
Prentice Hall Paley, V. G. (1995). Kwanza and me: A
teacher's story. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press.
Payne, R.K. (2001). A
framework for understanding poverty. (New Revised
Edition). Highlands, TX: aha! Process,
Inc.
Williams, D.
(2004, Spring). Raise the Bar.
Teaching Tolerance, 24-29.
Autonomy VS.
Isolation: Understanding the Culture of Teaching
A Strange, New World
I recall,
with regret, one of the ideals that motivated me to change careers and
become an elementary school teacher. I lived what I then thought
was the fast-paced business world where my role was to participate and
synthesize teams of employees to perform as one juggernaut of efficacy
to achieve a common goal. Time after time, we ultimately realized
great success though I viewed the collaboration as cumbersome,
frustrated that the success wasn’t always on my terms. Too
many days I sat in an air-conditioned cube, sipping hot coffee and
daydreaming of becoming a teacher, where I could close my classroom
door and be a private contractor, nurturing and helping young learners
based on my goals and on my terms. Not long into the year at my
hard-earned, first teaching position, I realized how pampered I had
been, not only with functional air conditioning and hot coffee, but
within a culture of collaboration, no matter how unwieldy it seemed at
times.
I asked a
lot of questions that first year, questions I honestly felt were
fundamental to an organization’s operation and for a new
employee’s orientation. Where do I find the materials to do
my job? What is the protocol for this situation? Why are we
teaching different content to the same group of children? Coming
into this field, I felt like a relatively intelligent person.
After only a few weeks, I wondered if I was a bumbling idiot, insane,
or merely dismissed as naïve because I kept arriving at the same
answer to these questions from teachers, administrators and
mentors: Do the best you can.
It came in many forms,
sometimes with explanations, sometimes with an encouraging wink, too
often with a shrug and the follow-up, “Welcome to
teaching.” After prying door after classroom door open,
figuratively and sometimes literally in a few districts, I realized a
culture has been created throughout elementary education that is as
insidious, if not more so, than government mandates, unequal
distributions of wealth, or altogether lack of funding. Those are
problems the average Joe- and Jane-citizen can freely analyze and
lament regarding American school children’s relative educational
suffering, but the status quo of isolation that one finds within the
profession of teaching seems so powerful that it avoids finding its way
into public debate when it could be a cornerstone saving us from
ourselves. Within that first year, I recognized the value, and
absence, of collaboration in elementary teaching. I also knew I
was surrounded by years of experience, knowledge and a sincere regard
for children’s learning. I had to understand this
disassociation of such fertile means working separately towards a
mutual end.
Autonomy v. Isolation
Warned as I
was at the University of the dangers lurking in the teachers’
lounge, I knew it would offer the raw opinion necessary to help me form
my own. Playing up my own ignorance and innocent interest to
understand, I approached educator after educator with a point-blank
bluntness searching for answers to how a profession based on molding
young minds to succeed in our society had come to be comprised of
individuals working so independently. Many teachers vehemently defended
their “autonomy” in the classroom and were offended by my
inquiry to delineate that from “isolation”. It became
more and more clear, as I interviewed these brilliant and experienced
lovers of learning and children that many of the tools needed to begin
turning education around are already within our schools. The
system just hasn’t always been managed in cohesion.
Somewhere in the past twenty or thirty years of the teaching workforce,
the subversive mentality of isolationism has become an accepted
solution to the myriad of internal and external challenges.
Similarly, I reflected upon my
previous career and understood that the frustration I’d felt was
simply the natural strain of people working together, where the whole
becomes better than the parts and challenges are overturned with the
combined knowledge of many working as one. As I dug farther, I
came to understand my colleagues and the culture of teaching. I
gained a new respect for their journey to this point and a new vision
of where I would like to see the profession of teaching mature further.
Learn Your History…
As of late,
much is being written about the expectations of the new workforce of
Generations X and Y. These workers, be they teachers or
otherwise, want to know what is expected of them, they want reassurance
on their progress and they want to be a piece of something larger than
themselves. This provides for quite the juxtaposition with
teachers who have been in the classroom for most of the Gen X/Y
lifespan.
Over and
over I’ve heard tales of teachers who started their careers in
the 1970’s and 1980’s, being given a key and directions to
their room, then told, “Do the best you can.” (Sound
familiar?) Given the fear I had with a few weeks to prepare my
first room, locate material and relentlessly contact a mentor teacher
with questions, I can only imagine their daunting task of a first job
requiring such lonely freedom. At that point, these same teachers
realized it was time to sink or swim. Those that are still here
were the swimmers who dove into lesson planning, classroom management
and all that is teaching, which required finding (or creating) any
materials they imagined up for helping students to learn. Many
graduates of the teaching programs of yesteryear received little more
than a Bachelor’s Degree in English, Math, History or Science,
I’ve found. There were fewer educational theory courses,
lesson plan methods courses, cultural or socio-economic appreciation
courses, much less a how-to course on teaching each subject area to
specific-aged children. Today’s mentor teachers primarily
learned to teach by teaching, arguably still a viable method.
They were baptized by fire into curriculum planning and child
psychology. They came with their wits. They taught most of
the Gen X/Y teachers as children and are still teaching us today as
colleagues.
However,
through all of their efforts to survive each day and create paths where
there were few, isolation became inasmuch a job requirement. To
maintain a sense of personal accomplishment and balance amid multiple
duties and sparse resources, the classroom door had to shut to block
out interference, so that each of these teachers could make their
way. This was a generation and workforce of the Baby Boom,
parented by a likewise work ethic of doing what had to be done.
As today, teaching was largely a female occupation with a healthy
influence of the feminist movement. The glass ceiling was
steadily being raised during this era as were the stakes for proving
independent success. To be sure, there are exceptions, progressives,
and even schools of collaboration in this generation, but by and by,
there is reason to understand any sense of isolationism that resulted
from these circumstances.
It must also be considered
that substantial pride is felt when one creates something unique to the
world. Artists feel it, parents feel it, teachers feel it.
The act of teaching, by nature, requires self-reflection. We are
our own worst critics, but due to that very personal and prideful
process, we are sometimes prone to dismiss the valuable constructive
criticism of a second set of eyes. Without external intervention,
this sense of autonomy developed as much in pride as with necessity to
survive in the workplace.
Today’s graduates, and even career-changing teachers as myself,
are indoctrinated with a new approach to teaching. From the
earliest courses in University teaching programs, educators are
reminded of standards, benchmarks and grade-level expectations.
However nebulous these terms seem at the time, how ever-changing they
are, standardized teaching goals are a permanent fixture in the
educational landscape. Standards-based tests are also slowly
becoming more appropriate for children and connect directly to material
expected to be taught in every classroom. For the system this is
a positive thing, as it both caters to the desires of Gen X/Y workers
to have clear direction, but also provides a common vernacular for all
teachers, even those who resist a common language.
Imagine the
teachers who have spent years of their lives creating and improving
lessons, learning what students can do, purchasing and making the tools
they need for their students to be successful. When they finally
hit a comfortable stride, new rules are introduced to the game.
Standards? Benchmarks? What happens when these conflict
with the content and lessons they’ve poured a career’s
worth of heart and soul into? Generally, because educators are a
wise bunch, much of what they’ve always taught is generally
consistent with the standards, newly dictated in many districts just
since the millennium. The change is smooth, but there are enough
teachers who have units, or entire curricula, that are simply not in
line with what the current conventional wisdom requires via State and
Federal standards. Who can blame these teachers for closing the
door and continuing as before? Certainly, the rationale
I’ve heard can be justified that if they only have a few more
years until retirement little harm can be done. Right?
Consistent
production has been commonplace in other industries, even helped to
fuel the industrialization of our country vis-à-vis Henry
Ford. But learners aren’t widgets. Each child
requires a unique approach at specific and appropriate levels.
This philosophy has remained a strong enough argument for
“autonomy” that standardization of content was delayed
until educational reform movements beginning in the late
1980’s. A decent argument supports the traditional
education model of “isolation” that standardization is not
in the best interest of the public, as not all students will be able to
perform at the same level, simply based on their unique rate of
development. So it remains safe to say that standardization
has not completely ripened, but at least its value has been
acknowledged. With those wheels in motion, I must wonder if the
entire debate of standards could have been cut short or curtailed
altogether had a culture of cohesion and teacher collaboration, sharing
their wonderful and unique wins and losses in the classroom, been
harbored as a true reform of education.
Professional? Development
Apparently,
as educational theory has advanced with analysis of Vygotsky and
constructivism, the way we teach teachers has only slightly
progressed. Upon entry to this personally rewarding field, I was
surprised to learn that as recently as the current decade, teachers
were herded into “stand and deliver” presentations, walked
painstakingly page-by-page through binders of research, and otherwise
handed piles of consultant-created material with the expectation that
it would be implemented in facsimile throughout classrooms with glowing
standardized test results as proof that the training was time, and
money, well spent. The current professional development, largely
improved I’m told, is often a compilation of materials and
resources gathered at a district office in response to surveys of
teacher suggestions. It’s closer to the mark based on
audience interest, but still misses the engagement that really supports
learning. Teachers are charged and challenged to engage their
students daily.
In response
to training sessions that do not compel educators through personal
interest and investment, many return, overwhelmed to their rooms and
assimilate to disregard the intent of the professional development,
continuing with plans they’ve made, understand and to which they
have a personal connection. Undoubtedly this routine is repeated
in many classrooms throughout a school or district, resulting in
perpetually inconsistent instruction, despite the good intentions of a
district to streamline what is taught. There are many amazing
teachers doing their own wonderful things in this vein and children are
learning in many classrooms across the land. The complement is
that there are just as many teachers, new and experienced, who wander
through days at the cost of their students’ true learning
potential. This situation makes the system mediocre, despite how
effective may be the theory and practices are provided as continuing
education.
I was
gratified to witness veteran teachers put forth effort to understand
and incorporate what they are fed, but asking legitimate, clarifying
questions of professional development. These are the ones who are
engaged in turning proverbial lemons to lemonade, the same ones who so
often end up labeled by peers and superiors as “rejectors”
and “nay-sayers”. They are the ones who
realize there is value at some level in the training, but it may need a
collective touch to mold into something truly practical for a
school’s particular children. I’ve come to understand many
of these individuals as true “thinkers” and thinkers
frequently like to share their understanding. Unfortunately, the
isolationists usually outnumber them, creating more isolated
teachers. The herd mentality is quite ironic in a profession
based on new learning and understanding.
Further
rationalizing these responses by overwhelmed teachers is a perceived
history of flavor-of-the-month professional development. When
employees realize that management introduces or replaces a tool,
process or resource every few months, but infrequently enforces or
monitors its use, morale and confidence in leadership
deteriorates. This is not unique to the establishment of
education, but is something countless teachers have commented on and
further explains how isolation has developed. With the mounting
responsibilities and expectations put upon elementary teachers, it
becomes a matter of self-preservation to separate the chaff from the
grain in order to get through a day, feeling that you’ve actually
connected with your classroom of kids and taught them something.
The components of interpersonal connection and engagement in content
are so critical to learning, not only for children but for adults too.
Marching On
There is
agreement that none of us want “learning factories” because
children, people, are not machines that can all be built the same
way. Reflecting on my work in business, customer satisfaction and
delivery of a service, some of the age-old theories of specialization
and consistency do hold true however. The gift that a good
teacher brings is his or her own unique approach to teaching
something. That approach may or may not be transferable to a
colleague, but by simply sharing practices and understanding on a
regular basis, something will be learned. Thriving industries,
those where our students will ultimately be employed, have adopted a
culture of collaboration. If we agree that our students have the
potential we believe, doesn’t it seem logical to model a practice
that would benefit them…and us?
The Best Student
When I found the note,
carefully tucked into a pile of papers that had been turned in for grading, I
was a little perplexed. I hadn’t assigned an essay or a
pen-pal letter, but there was a full, hand-written page from a student I enjoyed
very much. As I read it, I remember suddenly understanding
how my mom must have felt each time I teased her that I was the favorite among
my siblings. The note began, “Who’s the best student in
the class?”, then went on to explain how the author, a mature, bright,
well-rounded student, longed to be the “best student” and lamented that others
may hold that spot in my estimation.
The note got me thinking. Do I really have favorites
as she interpreted or was it pre-adolescent emotions making this child feel
under-appreciated? Had I not praised enough or was there
natural competition brewing? And what makes the best
student? I ruminated on these thoughts for a time, and then
realized I had to somehow respond to this child who had been so
courageous and mature in citing feelings of inadequacy…even if it was my own,
especially if it was my own! A part of me was mortified that
I’d not shown enough affirmation to a marvelous student. The
other part of me was proud that somehow, my values had transferred through our
daily interactions and this student was living my lessons of how to communicate
directly and honestly, to let feelings in, sharing them with others, to embrace
what moves you, then respond to it. To this magnificent,
questioning child and any others who really “get it” from our time together in
Room 120, here is my reply:
In our little classroom, there is space
for twenty-some best students. Some come every day, others peek in
for a minute, a lesson, or an afternoon. They’re usually not all present
at once, but sometimes a whole bunch come together. I love those
days. On those days, the best student learns, loves, and grows. The
best student shows respect, gives best effort, shows encouragement and loves
learning. The best student listens with keen ears and an open heart.
The best student is prepared more often than not and more often
than others. The best student is ready to learn and willingly reflects her
understanding. He knows the difference between arguing and
discussing. She senses when and when
not to do
either. The best student smiles early and often. The best student is
friends to everyone, but doesn’t require the approval of anyone. She is
the example. The best student teaches his teacher. He understands
that a teacher is a cheerleader and a coach, not a boss, not a judge. The
best student figures out routines quickly. He learns to enjoy the
questioning more than the answering. The best student sets high
expectations for herself. The best student makes me proud, but makes
himself prouder. He doesn’t require a teacher to learn, but he values
learning from his teacher. The best student is organized. The best
student is responsible, accountable, remarkable, memorable, and most of all,
unstoppable.
The best student “gets it”, so she doesn’t have to
worry about being the best student.
