"It was an awful day," he said.
From experience I know that a bad day at school means that he has a lot of homework. Why would they assign homework on the last day of school? I was confused. Weren't they having a picnic, playing games, and signing yearbooks?
You know what happened? He had an incredible year and he didn't want it to end. And who is responsible for this best year of school? His teacher, Ms. Sides.
A teacher like Ms. Sides comes around once in a very great while. The first day of school, she inspired her students to read as many books as they could this year. She encouraged them to be creative, laugh, and be joyful. She had high expectations for their academic and social behavior. And she infused a sense of humor into everything.
I suppose I'm writing this as a plea to other teachers out there. For parents, there's nothing like having your kid come home from school every day happy and excited. When you think about it, they spend almost as much waking time at school as they do at home. You trust the school, and the teacher, to give your child positive life experiences. A good day at school means an easier time at home. And a bad day at school makes time at home painful.
Let me tell you about one year that Santino hated school. Every morning he woke up and rolled over in bed. "Please don't make me go," he would say. "No problem," I would counter. "Go to school, and if you still want to come home by recess, I'll come pick you up." He never took me up on the offer, but I understood where he was coming from. I knew what went on in his classroom.
Now, this is a kid who loves to learn, gets top grades in all subjects, and never gets into trouble. He hated school that year because of his teacher. Yes--his teacher. My colleagues and friends who are teachers out there are probably cringing as they read this. But it's true. Put together with other gifted students, he was subjected to a tedious curriculum that was supposed to challenge gifted kids. The teacher threw mundane projects and endless worksheets at them that were supposed to add "enrichment" and take them to a deeper level of thinking. In the meantime, Santino would listen, tortured, to the other class across the hall as it rang out with peals of laughter and joy. (That other class also had a gifted cluster.) He didn't care about challenge and enrichment. He wanted to laugh and smile. That's what makes him want to go to school and challenge himself.
In spite of his misery that year, Santino did well in school. He always does. But what about those kids who need more motivation to do well? If they don't like school--and especially if they hate school--how can we expect them to perform?
Thankfully, after that year of torture and hating school, Santino changed schools and landed himself in a class with a vivacious, enthusiastic teacher.
Oh sure, Ms. Sides worked hard on making her class exciting and fun for the students. You know, most teachers work hard. But I don't think it was just her hard work that made this year so wonderful. It was her ability to make her students feel secure and comfortable and loved. She encouraged them to work with each other and have high academic and social standards. She had an incredible ability to help them enjoy learning. She challenged them, gave them academic enrichment, and pumped them up to a higher order of thinking skills. And all this learning was accomplished with laughter and smiles.
That's something they don't deliver in the teacher credential programs, nor do they cover it in professional development. I suppose they don't address this because you really can't assess it. Ms. Sides gets good academic results from her students, and she does it with fun and laughter. But the fun factor can't be assessed--not until that last day of school, when your child is either cheering because summer is finally here, or crying because they want one more year. So I'm asking you--please make my child cry.
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