I’m standing in front of my first period class after a long Thanksgiving break.
Papers are rustling.
Pencils are being sharpened.
Voices are lowering to a whisper.
And it occurs to me how glad I am to be here.
So I tell my students.
“We have a lot to go over today,” I begin and most of my middle school faces turn serious.
“But I just want to tell you all how happy I am to be here.”
Curiosity moves across those adolescent brows like a wave from one side of the room to the other.
Some even looked worried like they are afraid I am going to tell them I’m sick or dying.
“It’s true,” I continue. “I’m glad to be here this morning with all of you.
“I think teachers sometimes don’t say that enough.
“This is a great class. You’re all really good students, and I’ve watched you work hard and grow.
“For many of you this is the second year you’ve had me as your language arts teacher. For others, this is your first time with me. It doesn’t matter. I’m glad I can be with you and help get you ready for the challenges that you’ll face next year in high school.
“I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again – I am not just some guy who stands up here and gives you assignments. I’m your resource. If there’s anything I can do to make your year a better one, please ask.
“If you’re having trouble with the work or you’re confused about something, I’m here. If you need help with something – even if it’s not school related – I’m here. If you just want to talk or someone to listen – I’m here.”
I pause to see if there are any questions.
There aren’t, but neither is their any apparent doubt, bewilderment, perplexity.
The class looks back at me in silence with serene eyes and smiling lips.
And then we go on with our day.
Is it a big deal?
But I think it’s worth noting.
I mess up all the time. But I feel like what I said this morning was right somehow.
It’s simple and easy and more of us should do it.
Kids can get the impression that teachers aren’t human. They’re these mysterious creatures who pass judgment on them — and where do they even go when class ends? Who knows?
I remember when I was a young educator one of my mentors told me the old chestnut “Don’t smile until Christmas.”
I saw where she was coming from. It’s easier to command firm discipline if students don’t think of you as anything but an educating machine. But I could never go through with it.
I smile on the first day – probably the first minute students walk into the room.
I greet them with a grin – every day.
And I think that’s right.
Discipline is a means to an end. You have to have some sort of order in your class so you can facilitate learning. But that doesn’t mean you should preside over prisoners locked in a penitentiary of their own education.
Learning should be about choice, fun and curiosity. It should be about expressing yourself as much as it is about finding details and forming grammatical sentences.
Everything we do should be in service to the student.
Reading comprehension is to help the student understand what is being said and then form an opinion about it.
Writing is to help the student express the maelstrom of their own thoughts in a way that can be understood by others.
It’s okay to enjoy the work – for both students and teachers.
It’s okay to enjoy each other’s company.
In fact, you SHOULD do so if you can.
When my classes are over, I always have several students gathering around my desk wanting to prolong our interaction even if it means they’ll be late to lunch or late going home.
Kids ask about my break and I ask about theirs. We talk about favorite TV shows, songs we like or even local news stories.
They share with me their middle school crushes and ask advice.
You have to draw a line between teacher and friend – and between teacher and parent. Because the kids are looking for you to be both.
But you can’t.
We walk a strange middle ground, but I think that’s necessary.
I can’t share everything with them, but they have to know I care.
As Theodore Roosevelt said:
“People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.”
So go ahead and smile, teachers.
It will improve both your lives – and maybe even your teaching.
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