Think back to your school days. Try to remember your teachers, your friends, the subjects you had throughout the day. Chances are you do remember some things about that time in your life; some positive, some negative. And you know you learned something during all those years of school. You had to have learned something; otherwise the teachers wouldn’t have passed you on to the next grade. But what did you learn? I bet the specifics elude you. For example, I bet you can still do long division, but you probably don’t remember which teacher introduced it to you or how that skill was taught to you.
I remember my third grade teacher. Her name was Mrs. Wallingford. She was the first girl I ever had a crush on. She had auburn hair that bounced on her shoulders, and always wore just a little too much rouge. I would have walked on fire for her. One day she announced we would have a contest: the boy and girl who tested on their multiplication facts the fastest would get to go bowling with her one night after school. That was absolutely the only motivation I needed. It wasn’t long before I was watching her roll a strike at the local alley.
Here are some other things I can recall from elementary school: I got my first kiss on the cheek from a girl named Shelby in first grade. In fourth grade, I attempted to show a card trick for the talent show, but it completely bombed. In fifth grade I remember being the editor of the school newspaper, and also getting my name written on the board for throwing an eraser. In sixth grade, I melted crayons on the radiator, and got a zero on a Weekly Reader Quiz for showing my answers to the little blonde girl sitting next to me.
So what is the point of all this rambling? Only to convey this message: I learned a lot of academics in this process but I can’t pinpoint what I learned in most grades (except, of course, for the multiplication facts). And when I was a teacher, I wasn’t so naïve to think that the students I had each year would remember everything that I taught them. However, I did know the curriculum I taught each year was vitally important. I also knew learning goals were important, and I wrote them on the board so my students could see exactly what we would be learning each day. I taught routines, procedures, rules, math, reading, writing, social studies, etc. I also introduced my students to Elvis Presley and played his music throughout the day.
When my past students see me, they don’t thank me for teaching them about the Revolutionary War. They don’t write me letters praising my ability to teach them the associative property. What they do is always ask me one question: “Hey Mr. Johnson, do you still listen to Elvis?”
What I have come to realize is that the educational process is a continuum. As a teacher, you fall somewhere along that continuum. When the students reach you, they will either have a positive or a negative experience. I call it either a “bump” or a “dip” along the continuum. It’s your job as a teacher to make sure that the students hit a bump.
How do you become a bump? Simply put, you build positive, intentional relationships with your students. You let them into your world, and you find a way to get into theirs. You try and make every day count. You build traditions with them in your classroom, and make memories they will carry forever. You teach them to think, to dream, to reach for their goals, to get up when they get knocked down, and to have faith in themselves and each other. They might not remember exactly what you taught them, but they will remember that their 8th grade teacher was the “bomb” and always wore a tie and told funny jokes to start the day. And this memory might have been the thing that kept them going when things got tough.
It boils down to this: Do whatever you can to be a bump on the continuum for your students, because otherwise you will be a dip. And no one wants to be a dip.
Image Credit: Ksilvennoinen on Flickr
