True Teaching

A few weeks ago, before the craziness of "remote learning" even entered our minds, I had an experience that brought me back to what I love about teaching. I started to blog about it then, but, as always, got distracted by things that seemed more important at the moment. Well, one blessing of the current #coronaclosure is that all of those "important" things -- running errands, meetings, lesson planning -- are suddenly much less urgent. So, I'm trying to use my new-found free time to re-focus. I woke up leisurely (no alarms!), did a yoga workout in my basement, and now I'm drinking hot coffee on the couch, and spending some time writing. It would be much more relaxing if the world didn't feel like it was falling apart, but I'm trying to enjoy what I can.

So here is the story I started to share weeks ago.  Somehow it feels equally, and maybe even more, relevant now as I think about what teaching may look like in the weeks and months to come...

It was Closing Circle. My students were gathered around the perimeter of our carpet. One of my students had a picture in a frame, ready to share. She began by telling us about her grandmother, the special relationship they had and how much they had in common. Then she shared that she was worried about her grandmother, and her grandfather, because her grandfather was getting a kidney transplant.  Her grandmother was donating the kidney and so they were both having to stay in the hospital for a little while (I should pause here to note that I did not verify these facts with her family, so I'm not actually sure this was a real story, but it was what she shared with our class).

As soon as this student mentioned the hospital and surgery, and her grandfather's failing kidneys, another one of my students began to comment under his breath "Ew! Agh, I don't want to hear this!"  Then he started to make fake-vomit noises. Immediately, I sent to our "Safe Place" to take a break. He groaned and pouted, and stomped away to the Safe Place, while his classmate finished her story and shared the framed picture of herself, as a baby, with her mom, grandmother, and aunts.  When she was ready for questions and comments, some of my other students jumped in to share their concern and well-wishes. Then it was time for everyone to go to Art class. I hustled the other students out the classroom door, while instructing the kiddo in the Safe Place to stay put so we could talk after everyone left.

Once the classroom was quiet, I walked over to the kiddo in the Safe Place. He was still a little pouty, but mostly calm. I started, as I always try to when I send students to "take a break," by asking him if he knew why I'd sent him away from the class. He said, "no." Of course he doesn't, I thought, and I could have just jumped to reprimanding him for being rude while another classmate was speaking. For some reason, though, I took another tactic. "Do you know what kidneys are?" I asked. "Yes," he answered confidently, and pointed to his heel. I stifled a smile, "Nope, that's your achilles."

At this point, I shifted gears and invited him, and another one who had stayed behind from Art class to finish a math assignment, over to my computer.  I pulled up brainpop.com.  Side note: This is one of my favorite websites because I can always count on them to have kid-appropriate videos for nearly any topic that comes up in my classroom. Case in point, within days of COVID-19 outbreaks worldwide, BrainPop had a free video available about coronaviruses, which included tips for avoiding spread, getting information from reliable sources, managing anxiety, and supporting others without judgement.

On this particular day, I searched "kidneys" and, sure enough, found a short video on the urinary tract system. We began to watch and I paused a few times to answer questions or explain further. "Yes, your pee is in your body all the time." "Well, your bladder sends a message to your brain when you need to pee so that you don't have an accident." "Right, your kidneys help filter out the bad stuff from the air we breathe and food we eat."  It was evident, very quickly, that neither of these kiddos had ever learned much about how their bodies work.  They were genuine, curious, and fascinated as the video went on.

At the end, I turned to the little guy who had made fake-vomit noises 20-minutes earlier at the mention of surgery. "Do you understand now why your classmate was feeling scared that her grandfather's kidney weren't working?" He answered quietly, "He could die without kidneys because the bad stuff would be in his body." I nodded, then asked, "Do you understand why it might have been hurtful that you were pretending to get sick while she was sharing about her grandfather's kidney transplant?" He was silent for a long moment. Then he just said, "Oops."

I knew he got it. He didn't need a lecture or punishment. He understood why his behavior had been inappropriate, and that he should try to be more sensitive in the future. It was a beautiful moment.  After that, I walked him to Art class. That was it.

Kids, and adults, often appear rude, unkind, disrespectful, or hurtful, when really they are confused and un-informed. We can tell them to be more thoughtful or empathetic, but that's only part of the solution. We actually need to provide more information, to teach them.

Missing all of this.

This has been a challenging year for me, and I've found myself feeling disconnected and unmotivated more than I'd like, but this experience reminded me what I love about teaching... being able to provide information, ideas, and answers at the time they are needed most.  My favorite moments in teaching have always been when I've been able to follow the interests, questions, or curiosities of my students. I know I haven't been doing this well lately. I've let the pressure of looming state tests, evaluations, and demanding parents push me to plough through content and focus on assessing standards, rather than knowledge. I can do better. We all can.

As we move into a new phase of education, I am hoping that I can make the time, and find more creative ways, to truly teach my students, even if we won't be gathering around the perimeter of the carpet for awhile.