Dear Cohort,
Amongst the bedlam that I sometimes have to describe
my classroom as, I found a peaceful moment in my thoughts. I scanned the room in a focused delirium
taking conscious note of the idiosyncrasies about my students that define a
part of who they are. Marissa is sitting
with her knee up high (“partial fetal” she would say), Travis’ eyes glance from
you to the floor with a smirk he has plastered on his face all day—he has
hidden Connor’s books again somewhere around the room, Kyle grunts as he sees
the room set up for speeches, and Riley declares, “I love almond joys. I love to take out the almond and enjoy the
joy.” I’m paused in this moment of 28 different stimuli and realize my cheeks
hurt from smiling.
Today, we had a lockdown drill with my students as
sitting ducks in the back of my classroom. Lights off, blinds drawn, posters to
cover the window of our 8th grade Team Streaks pod. As I squatted in front of them and studied
their faces, telling a few to be silent, I heard Riley’s voice in my head
repeating: “I love almond joys! I love to take out the almond and...enjoy the
joy.” What a fresh perspective! Simple.
Innocent. Wholly original, and irrevocably Riley. How could I ever not fight for his education,
his safety, his ability to voice those kinds of thoughts to the other people
who could learn from his perspective as he continues to develop as his own person? Eleven reported school shooting since the
2014 year began and I think this can not be done to him—to any of my
students.
My goal for this semester is to provide my students
with opportunities to showcase their idiosyncrasies. In this sense, I am appreciative of the heavy
focus on differentiated instruction that we will be learning this
semester. Now that I am back in my
groove and teaching everyday (as opposed to last semester), I feel as if my
students are responding to me in new ways that are exciting as I get to see
them in even more complex lights. I am
constantly reminded of the enigmatic Hamlet—can we ever truly know a person
inside and out? Never and never and never. But there’s a beauty to that
uncertainty that I’ve come to appreciate more and more in my classroom.
Remember this; it’ll help you carry onward in teaching.
Sincerely,
Becca Fairchild