Skip to main content

Risking It

It's Sunday, my typical blogging day, and today I find myself on my soap box. Not sure where that phrasing originated, but it's where I am at the moment. I've been pondering what to write for a couple of days now, and I've been struggling to recall an idea that sounded fabulous in my head yesterday. Yet, all that thinking and mental gymnastics lead me back to my proverbial box. The box of growth.



It's a year of growth for me. I have two new preps at school, one I haven't taught since 1999 and another I've never taught. I have a student teacher, a first for me. Those two combined put me in a place of constant thinking and strategizing and creating. On many days, it hurts my head! But through the pain, I also know that I'm stretching myself as a teacher and person in ways I haven't before, and that's the kind of growth I like. It's the kind I think we should all experience more frequently.

As teachers, we expect our students to grow constantly. Daily, we want them learning and practicing and trying. We push them to apply their skills and analyze ideas. We provide them a safe place to fail and an environment of support. At least that's what we are supposed to do.

So I am repeatedly shocked by teachers and adults who refuse to grow themselves. Why do we hold our own students to such high expectations yet stick to the same binder of copies we've been using for decades? Even the most seasoned professional quarterback tries out a new play when he meets an opponent who challenges him in a new way. Doctors study the latest research and newest technological developments in order to treat their patients' needs successfully. Why should teaching be any different?

As a reading, writing, and speaking teacher, I find American and British lit to be too important to relegate to one one year of study, for example. In an age of cultural diversity, why wouldn't we study and compare all types of literature every year? Writing is an exploration of a community's ideas. Words provide a path to the soul of a time and place and movement. Like visual art, texts illustrate moods and feelings. They illuminate values with broad strokes of rhetoric. Can't we learn about ourselves and others through published works? Shouldn't we be doing that all the time?  

Above all, growth certainly requires support and encouragement. It's frightening to take a new risk without a cheering section calling your name and chanting, "You can do it! We got your back!" And the nay-sayer, know-it-alls just tear down community. They drive a negative spike into the foundation of positivity, and they sadly and possibly unknowingly become the communal target of the rest of the group. Sure, on one hand, the community has a rallying point, but the flip side is the outcasting of a team member.

Thus, to conclude this bubbly soap-boxing, let's take a moment to assess our own personal growth. Let's ask those hard question:
Am I destructive or positive to my team? 
What do my current students really need?
Am I willing to try new things based on those needs of my current students?
How may I support the growth of my team and myself?

Now let's get out there and take that dive from a different platform. Let's run that new play and implement that new procedure. Let's find our road not taken and confidently grow, together.



Comments

  1. Sounds a lot like my year. If you count athletics, I have four preps. One I haven't taught since I was with you all at Hebron and one has been several years. Two classes are co-teach. I'm on two teams. Growth often hurts. Thanks for the reminder.

    ReplyDelete
  2. #FindSteve We need you Steve.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dude. Be nice.

It's in the air like the scent of burnt popcorn from the teacher workroom fogging the halls. It's on our faces like thick blue cupcake icing that will never, never wash off.  What is it, you ask? The spring slide. The end of the year blues. The how-many-more-days-do-we-have weekly question. Yup, it's that time of year. It happens annually. Spring Break concludes, and it takes all of our patience and enthusiasm with it. Students go off for a week and leave any interest and motivation under the blankets where they slept their break away. We teachers leave our efforts to collaborate and abilities to reason in the pages of our reads and on the beaches of our trips. And there is just never. enough. coffee. Ever. That sad and disappointing part of the spring slide/endofyearblues is that it leaves us snarking at each other and our students. Our patience is minuscule and our tempers are pre-lit. And everyone - everyone - we encounter wears a target gleaming, waiting ...

A Fish Tale

Last weekend, I went fishing with my dad. I packed the kids in my silver mommy van, waded through the 5 o'clock Friday traffic, and arrived at Lake Fork in time to meet Dad coming off the water. He'd found the "honey hole" and snagged two - one over six pounds, the other over seven! He knew where to take us the following day. Saturday, he took out Ian, my ten year old, first at six AM. Ian going out for his first official early morning bass fishing with Pops is enough to melt my daddy's girl heart, and as expected, they had a blast. After they came in for lunch, Emily, my seven year old, and I crawled into the boat with Ian and my dad, and we returned to Lake Fork, the Big Bass Capital of Texas for another round.  Initially, we cruised around in the hot Texas October sun. We found solace in the shade of an old bridge. We "wet a hook" as Dad would say but, sadly, with no luck. Then, evening hit. Fishing frenzy time. Dad returned to the "honey h...

My Emily

One evening a few weeks ago, my almost 8 year old, Emily, was having a night. The scream, pout, tantrum kind of night. Drama was high, and I was doing my best to remain calm and avoid an explosion of anger or a fit of giggles. I'm about 50/50 when it comes to kid fights. I can never predict if I'll react in yelling or laughing. Anyway, this particular incident dealt with toothbrushing. I have come to believe that brushing one's teeth - at least at elementary age - must be akin to chewing shiny metal thumbtacks. Hearing my children protest, one may conclude that I torture them frequently with the help of Crest and Oral-B. This night was no different. Emily was NOT going to brush her teeth no matter what I suggested. Typically, she puts the paste on her brush, clicks two minutes into the timer, and off she goes. But not that night.  Her protests grew, her voice reaching higher and higher octaves as her eyes bulged and her face sizzled. She slammed her bedroom door. She th...