Teaching Methods

Serves me right for getting all crafty (I’ve been sewing up a storm, tonight. Will post pics when the craft project is done and has been presented to the person I’m making it for). Dustin posted before me. Again.

It’s like I’m trying to give this whole blog off thing to him.

But, on the bright side, you’re all spared the story of how I heroically ripped out all of the fug ugly wall-to-wall carpeting in our bedroom last night. 

There’s a silver lining to everything, I suppose.

Anyways, today Dustin wrote about teaching methods. So I suppose that I must write about them as well. I am fortunate to come from a family of gifted educators. My Mom taught me all sorts of things when I was young. Like reading, long division and how to make chocolate chip cookies. I credit her with a good portion of my early academic success. It’s easy to do well in school when you know everything before your teacher gets to that chapter.

I remember astounding my teacher by coming to school with a real book (none of that See Spot. See Spot bite Dick and Jane nonsense) and telling her that I wanted to read it aloud to my kindergarden class. My Mom told me to have my teacher choose the story, so she wouldn’t think that I just picked one out of the (very long) book to memorize. But, she didn’t think that I was capable of clever deception (ha!), so she told me that I could pick one out myself. So, I chose my favorite story (the one about the sand castle and the mermaid and the seashells). She brought the other teachers in our area to watch me. I remember seeing them staring at me with their eyes wide and their mouths open.

I remember feeling completely and utterly proud of myself at that moment. I had done something so out of the ordinary that my teacher had to go find other teachers to share it with. I think that my fellow kindergardeners were too busy eating paste and trying to stab each other with safety scissors to take any notice. But I sat there, proud that I could show off what my Mom had taught me. 

And totally unaware that showing off my academic skills was not exactly the best way to make friends.

(Do you like how I made a story about my Mom all about me? Am awesome like that).

I was a ridiculously bright child and I hesitate to think what would have happened to me if my Mom (and the rest of the family, let’s not leave them out of this) hadn’t nurtured my wee little brain. Boredom leading to acting out comes to mind I mean, my first grade teacher’s idea of math class was the 1000 club. Where we were handed mimeograph sheet with a ten by ten grid on them and told to write out all of the numbers. From one to a thousand. 

Yeah, that’s not busy work.

I lied, that total busywork. 

I attempted to tell my teacher what a bullshit class project this was (always the rabble rouser!) and was told that I would suffer dire consequences if I did not join the 1,000 club. My inner grade grubber won out over my inner activist and I wrote those damn numbers out. All 1,000 of them. But I’m not bitter. No, not me.

Not bitter at all.

Anyways, I guess what I’m trying to say is that the world needs more teachers like my mom. Teachers who can help you to open your eyes to all sorts of new ideas. Teachers who help you to discover the inherent joys in reading. Teachers like my sister, who I can see developing into an incredibly gifted educator, one who cares deeply for her students and is constantly pushing herself to find new ways to create teachable moments.

I’d like to think that I’m not a bad teacher. I spend a good portion of my work time teaching people how to use the AV equipment. I definitely have fantastic role models.