A Day at School Remembered…

  

 

 

Inside the old schoolhouse at Columbia State Historic Park, CA

 

I teach.

I used to teach public school…lots of grades.  My favorites were Second Grade and Kindergarten…what absolute joy!  Well, most days.  What’s the difference between teaching K and 2nd?  

To sum it up in a generalizing kind of way:

Second Graders are becoming readers and writers. They  know how to tie their own shoes, and they can “hold it” until recess (usually).  They know classrooms have rules, and they  love school!  Best of all, they love their teachers. 

Kindergartners usually don’t read nor do they really know how to hold pencils yet (and that is OK).  They need help with their shoes, buckles and buttons.  They do not know when they need to go to the bathroom until they MUST go.  They have no idea what Big Kid School is and they are terrified of it.  And, best of all, they love their mommies.

My second year in second grade I met Max (name changed to protect the innocent, and the not-so innocent).  A beautiful boy with olive skin, floppy chocolate brown curls, sparkling eyes and a laughing smile.  Bright, too.  Dressed like a Rock Star on the first day of school, Max makes a statement.  

In true Teacher Style, I begin my orientation assuming my role as the Captain, guiding my young charges to help me help them.  We’re meeting and greeting.  Each child sits at his or her assigned desk with a neatly printed name-tag, a brand new pencil and fresh, untouched crayons.  

All at once Max jumps out of his desk, onto his chair, and flies to the top of  his desk.  With arms straight into the air, fists clenched above his shock of curls, he shouts, “I love Rock and Roll!”

I stiffen.  Yes, I am shocked, but I’m a pro.  The Captain glides to his side. His short little body is now elevated to 5’1″ by virtue of the fact that he’s standing on top of his desk.  My 5’1″  body, defined by my gene pool.  For all to hear, I command,  “Not in my classroom you don’t.  No, Max.  You will learn of Mozart, Beethoven and Brahms.  You will enjoy Miles Davis and David Grisman, but not Rock and Roll.”  I stare at him, just inches from his face, and hiss, “Now sit.”

The other cherubs sit wide-eyed, never having witnessed such events (unless they were in First Grade with Max).  They shift uncomfortably, not certain what the New Teacher will do.  I turn to them, and give them a quiet, comforting smile as if to say, “Don’t worry, little mates.  The Captain is here, and  you will be safe.”

Then I lean in to Max’s ear, words only for him to hear:  “If you ever do that again, you will be in such big trouble. Don’t mess with me, kid. I used to teach Eighth Grade.  I  know all the tricks.”

Max looks up at me with some respect.  He isn’t dead, and the teacher has “won” this round.

Round Two…A few months and a few small battles later:

There comes a day when Max steps over the line with me and with his classmates.  I send him outside the door for a moment to reflect on his ill-deed.  I take a breath.  Fortunately, my teacher’s aide is in the room to watch my Little Crew so I can step outside to “chat” with my pal. Here’s the gist of the conversation…

Me:  Max, I am very disappointed with what just happened.

Max:  You’re fat (His First Grade Teacher had warned me about this).

Me:  Yeah, I know I am really overweight. I need to work on that. I’ve been thinking about starting a new diet and exercise program. Thanks for sharing your concern.

Max: (Tactic #2) You’re old.

Me: (voice drippy sweet) Yes, it’s true. I am ever so much older than you.

Max: (Tactic #3) You’re an old grandma!

Me:  (Big smile) You’re right! I am a grandma. I love being a grandma. I have wonderful grandchildren. They are clever and smart, just like you.

Then…Max melts into my (fat) arms.  He hugs me, looks up and smiles.

Me:  We’re in this together, Max. I’m here to help you learn how to walk through the world.  

That day we find a new way of being.  Oh, there are other rough days with Max, but he knows I care.  And that’s the heart of teaching, really.  The rest just falls into place.  A teacher who cares, a student who accepts and understands, even surrenders to that embrace.

State standards. Testing.  Teacher Accountability.  School Report Cards. “No Child Left Behind.”  I say, “Nuts to you!”

Live, love, laugh and be happy.  Let’s give joy to our children.  Let’s give them what they really need…a place that welcomes learning and curiosity.  A place that facilitates discovery, construction, invention and reflection.  A place that teaches us ALL how to be human.

To back up for just a moment:  There was a bit of Rock n’ Roll in our classroom that year.  Occasionally I played some classic Beatles tunes, a Beach Boy song or two.  But our all-time favorite was The Banana Slug String Band, singing “The Ant Song”–a lively tune with a strong repetitive chorus and a lot of good science presented in song.  Everyone, including Max and me, would get down on all fours. We’d scramble around the room like little ants, combing the carpet for  little tidbits of classroom trash while we sang along to the rousing chorus. Boy, oh, boy…Did we have a clean floor!

I’m B.Z. Smith.  I tell stories.  Here’s one of them.