Back at it: Classrooms from the start

Teaching isn’t the only vocation with a seasonal rhythm. Farmers shift gears at regular intervals, and back when I unloaded trucks, my old boss warned his bride about his busy season — “I’m a retailer, baby. You won’t see me from Thanksgiving till Christmas.”

Other than professional athletes, though, I can’t think of anybody with such clear starts and stops as teachers and students. As anybody who’s been watching TV commercials since Independence Day can tell you, school is at its starting line.

Most students I know don’t dread heading back, but contrary to popular fiction, most haven’t spent August so bored that they’ve been wishing school would start. When I was a kid, I didn’t mind school either. I just enjoyed a few months being relatively footloose, even when I was old enough to have a summer job.

These days I feel much the same. I’m fortunate enough to like what I do for a living and to have colleagues I respect and call my friends. As for my students, and that’s who I really spend most of my waking hours with, I genuinely enjoy their company. September doesn’t loom up like a dark cloud for me.

However, that same affection for my students impels me to make the most of the time I have with them. That’s why even though I’m still home, I’m mulling over our coming year.

For example, every spring as I gallop through the early twentieth century, I ask myself why I didn’t trot a little faster through colonial history back in the fall. This year I’m again resolving to make some adjustments.

I let my students in on my plans. I want them to know they’re an integral part of reaching those objectives. I keep my plan book from last year on my desk, and every so often I tell them how we’re doing timewise. I want them to understand that the better prepared they are for class every day, the more we’ll cover, the more they’ll be able to contribute, and the more they’ll learn. Of course, they need to see me working hard, too. Otherwise they’re less likely to accept their responsibility.

I’ve been doing this long enough to realize that not every student is moved to accept that responsibility, and even those who are can be sketchy about sustaining that effort on a daily basis. The first step, though, in accepting a responsibility is knowing what it is. I want them to know that while captaining our class is ultimately my responsibility, they play a part in how much they each can accomplish as individuals, and how much we can accomplish as a group.

I also want them to know that every September constitutes a fresh start, that whether I’ve been their teacher before, or we’ve only known each other passing in the corridor, I’ve seen too many of their predecessors grow up over the summer to have anything other than an open mind about how they’ll do this year.

This is the truth. It’s not that I’m forgetful, or gullible, but adolescents mature emotionally and intellectually in breathtaking ways. That can happen when you go from child to adult in less time than it takes to pay off a car. Added height isn’t the only kind of growth spurt.

I want them to know I respect them, I let them make choices when it’s appropriate, and I’m always willing to listen to their point of view, but I don’t want them to have any illusions about who’s in charge.

I want them to understand why we’re studying English. I ask how many of them, when they’re speaking or writing in their daily real lives, say to themselves, “Gosh, I hope nobody understands me.” I’m teaching them the skills they’ll need to understand and be understood. Everything we do – reading stories, discussing newspaper articles, writing essays, learning grammar and spelling, stating and defending our ideas – equips them to think and communicate. I want them to recognize that practical reality.

In history class I ask how many of them are ready to run the country. I remind them that people like me won’t be around when it’s their turn and that self-governing republics need a fair number of well-educated people to survive. Then I ask how many poorly educated future voting citizens our republic can afford, and how many of them want to be one of those poorly educated future voting citizens.

Regardless of what I’m teaching them, I try to make class pass as pleasantly as possible. After all, I have to be there, too, and I don’t come to school to be miserable any more than they do. But I also come to school expecting to work, and so should they.

When I can, I explain to them the reasons behind what we’re doing and learning, but when I can’t, they need to trust that I won’t give them something to do just to keep them busy, and that I know what I’m doing. Earning that trust requires that I demonstrate my competence, my good intentions, and my willingness to acknowledge when I make mistakes.

There’s much more to the nuts and bolts of classroom life than that, everything from Solomon’s wisdom to a sense of humor. But there’s little that’s more important than that trust and how I earn it. and let us know if there is more to add or something to correct in one of our stories. Also, see our fact check blog at http://middletownpressfactcheck. blogspot.com for some of our clarifications, corrections and additions to stories. Talk with us online: Facebook.com/middletownpress

twitter.com/middletownpress.

and

DIGITAL FIRST MEDIA FILE PHOTO Two students do activities on iPads in a classroom.