kids
my students continue to surprise me. last week, junior got a 100% on his make-up exam.
while we were on our ice skating field trip, he slid over and put his arms around me, "i'm going to give you a hug!" "okay junior, don't make me fall!" "i'm just hugging you!" "you're going to make me fall don't make me fall don't make me fall!" laughing all around.
i glided from student to student, watching so many of them struggle, and checking their laces. nobody in harlem knows how to lace up ice skates. they think it's like sneakers. it's "cool" if they're all baggy and undone around the ankle. no wonder they all kept falling. i was the shoelace nazi. "are your skates tied tight?" "i think so" "show me the top" "okay" "no! that's way too loose, you'll never skate like that, go tie them tighter and then you'll have the ankle support you need" the rest of the teachers seemed to be oblivious to this small yet crucial detail.
at the music concert last wednesday, a boy showed up late with his little brother in tow. his class was about to perform, so he left this bewildered little boy who couldn't have been more than 5, standing near the auditorium doors, with directions to "just stay there! don't move! i'll be right back!" i watched the student run off, and looked down at this little kid - i asked him "are you just here with your brother?" he nodded. "well let's find you a seat right near the door, ok?" he nodded again, and let me escort him to a seat in the third row from the back. i asked the woman sitting there if he could sit in that seat and she smiled and nodded. i then returned to watching the concert and discussing logistics of entrances and exits with the assistant principal. 30 minutes later, as i was escorting the 7th graders out of the auditorium and to the cafeteria, i was bombarded with questions. "professor, you have a son?" i was incredulous. "what?!?" "you have a son?" they said it so earnestly, it's like i had to think to know the real answer - and it took me a minute before i realized why they were asking. they thought the little boy i'd ushered in to the auditorium was *my* child. kids really *do* see everything. it's amazing.
a few weeks ago, a student looked at me while i was walking around checking homework and asked, "professor, were you a doctor before this?" i smiled and frowned and replied mysteriously, "what?" "you were a children's doctor, weren't you?" i didn't want to say one way or another. it was neat that they thought i used to be a doctor, but i was curious what brought them to that conclusion. so without saying yea or nay, i simply asked, "why?" "because you wear those shoes!" she was referring to my cordovan cabrio dansko professional clogs, preferred by doctors and other on-your-feet professionals everywhere. i smiled a big smile. "you were! i knew it!" is it bad that i didn't correct her and tell her otherwise? that i've let her continue to believe that i used to be a pediatrician in a former life? my mom always wanted me to be a doctor ... does it count if i'm a teacher instead and my students *think* i was a doctor?
i'm reading this amazing book. "how to talk so kids will listen, and listen so kids will talk" -- it's the "how to win friends and influence people" for parents, rather than for salesmen. it's amazing. i wish i'd read it a long time ago. heck, i wish *i'd* been talked to as a kid the way they recommend we talk to kids. it's a little bit of a mind-warp (and that's the nice way of putting it) to be reading a book like this, knowing full well that a) i don't have any kids and b) i'm essentially reading about how to be a parent to my students.
relaxation sure is tiring.
while we were on our ice skating field trip, he slid over and put his arms around me, "i'm going to give you a hug!" "okay junior, don't make me fall!" "i'm just hugging you!" "you're going to make me fall don't make me fall don't make me fall!" laughing all around.
i glided from student to student, watching so many of them struggle, and checking their laces. nobody in harlem knows how to lace up ice skates. they think it's like sneakers. it's "cool" if they're all baggy and undone around the ankle. no wonder they all kept falling. i was the shoelace nazi. "are your skates tied tight?" "i think so" "show me the top" "okay" "no! that's way too loose, you'll never skate like that, go tie them tighter and then you'll have the ankle support you need" the rest of the teachers seemed to be oblivious to this small yet crucial detail.
at the music concert last wednesday, a boy showed up late with his little brother in tow. his class was about to perform, so he left this bewildered little boy who couldn't have been more than 5, standing near the auditorium doors, with directions to "just stay there! don't move! i'll be right back!" i watched the student run off, and looked down at this little kid - i asked him "are you just here with your brother?" he nodded. "well let's find you a seat right near the door, ok?" he nodded again, and let me escort him to a seat in the third row from the back. i asked the woman sitting there if he could sit in that seat and she smiled and nodded. i then returned to watching the concert and discussing logistics of entrances and exits with the assistant principal. 30 minutes later, as i was escorting the 7th graders out of the auditorium and to the cafeteria, i was bombarded with questions. "professor, you have a son?" i was incredulous. "what?!?" "you have a son?" they said it so earnestly, it's like i had to think to know the real answer - and it took me a minute before i realized why they were asking. they thought the little boy i'd ushered in to the auditorium was *my* child. kids really *do* see everything. it's amazing.
a few weeks ago, a student looked at me while i was walking around checking homework and asked, "professor, were you a doctor before this?" i smiled and frowned and replied mysteriously, "what?" "you were a children's doctor, weren't you?" i didn't want to say one way or another. it was neat that they thought i used to be a doctor, but i was curious what brought them to that conclusion. so without saying yea or nay, i simply asked, "why?" "because you wear those shoes!" she was referring to my cordovan cabrio dansko professional clogs, preferred by doctors and other on-your-feet professionals everywhere. i smiled a big smile. "you were! i knew it!" is it bad that i didn't correct her and tell her otherwise? that i've let her continue to believe that i used to be a pediatrician in a former life? my mom always wanted me to be a doctor ... does it count if i'm a teacher instead and my students *think* i was a doctor?
i'm reading this amazing book. "how to talk so kids will listen, and listen so kids will talk" -- it's the "how to win friends and influence people" for parents, rather than for salesmen. it's amazing. i wish i'd read it a long time ago. heck, i wish *i'd* been talked to as a kid the way they recommend we talk to kids. it's a little bit of a mind-warp (and that's the nice way of putting it) to be reading a book like this, knowing full well that a) i don't have any kids and b) i'm essentially reading about how to be a parent to my students.
relaxation sure is tiring.