Classroom Practice

As teachers, we hear almost daily that we “must meet the students where they are.” It is a core tenant, a sacred truth offered as a key to successfully unlocking the hearts and minds of even the most reluctant learners.

I was in a wreck.

The rain was curling my hair and sirens blasted in the background as I said these words to Judy, our secretary. I quickly added that the other driver and I were both fine, but our cars were not. Suddenly, it occurred to me that in the tangled wreckage was everything someone would need to teach my class for the day. However, Judy’s calming voice assured me they would figure something out.

I was anxious, opening the cover page of my literacy project. I paused and took a deep breath and held it.

"Excellent job,” my professor’s comments began. “I especially liked your focus on how to increase the literacy of boys not interested in reading." I beamed. I’d worked hard on this project. Although her words were few—about 20—it was rewarding to be praised. I felt recognized, validated.

The school year is wrapping up, and most students won’t see the inside of a classroom for months. To kids, this means vacation, but to teachers it means lots of catch-up in the fall. According to a study by the John Hopkins’ Center for Summer Learning, without summer educational programs, the average student falls two months behind in his reading skills.

Five-year-old Ellie started off the year on good footing. She not only joined her classmates in play but was able to negotiate with friends when conflicts arose. When she was at an activity in the classroom, whether at an art activity or in the block corner, she would almost get lost in her own motivation and passion. Each day, her rapport with her peers and teachers increased. Then things began to change.

It’s with mixed emotions that I approach my last day working with the group of student teachers in the graduate course I am teaching. There is so much to learn. Following are lessons I hope all preservice teachers will take as they embark upon the most challenging and rewarding task of their lives: becoming teachers.

I’m sitting in my office with Sam, a senior, whose counselor brought him to see me. He missed more school than he attended last year and has started this school year in similar fashion. His counselor thought that a meeting with me might help emphasize the importance of better choices.

My student was trying to act like he wasn’t smart. He told his parents that being smart meant not having cool friends. When test time came, he simply made random patterns with the bubbles on his standardized test, scoring one of the lowest scores in the sixth-grade class. The following year, he made a fresh start by earning one of the highest scores on the pretest. I knew I was in for a fight or, rather, a battle that would culminate with a full-on war to maintain. One I hoped to win.

The class was silent as we waited for Samuel to collect himself. It was a respectful silence that happens when everyone knows something powerful is taking place. Samuel’s elbows were on his knees, his head was down. A few tears had fallen.

Our chairs were placed in a circle. A sign posted on our classroom wall read, “Every person in this community is as important as every other person.” We were in the middle of our weekly class meeting, a time when we acknowledge conflicts and work to resolve them as a group. The current topic: name-calling and disrespectful speech.

I like to switch things up every once in a while, so I assigned my high school students a project I’d never done before—a gift book. In addition to the academic value, I hoped to strengthen at least one teen-adult connection at a time when it’s sometimes hard to just grunt, “Good morning,” without an argument. (I know this because I have two teens in my own house.) I also wanted students to be able to create a keepsake to give a loved one during the holiday season. Many students could not afford to buy anything. In our rural school, many students come from low-income homes.