Parent-Teacher Night (Post #2) and Secrets of the Universe

What a post I have for my readers today. First, I'll complete my discussion of Parent-Teacher Night. Then I have a story from class today.

First, Parent-Teacher Night was both not as bad as I predicted AND a confirmation of some of my worst fears. The first parent I met with was the mother of the boy I had written about earlier with the three hours of basketball practice. See the post on Time Management to get caught up on that hullabaloo. She was the only parent that actually opted for the "this is your fault" approach to her son's F in my class. She showed me his report card and he had an A, a B or two, a C in Religion (from me) and an F (also from me). His test grades were so-so/poor and he hadn't turned in the lion's share of the work. I shared with his mother my opinion that he goofs off too much in class (he does), that I suspect he doesn't spend enough of his time at home doing school work, and that he is highly capable - as his other grades should reflect - but that he just does not seem to be taking things seriously.

She asked him what the problem was and he began, rather timidly, to tell me that I talk too fast in class, that I don't explain things enough, etc, etc. And turning back to me, his mother said, "He's told me this before. You talk too fast." Now, nevermind that this student has never once asked me to slow down. Nevermind that this student has never once come to me for extra help, never once expressed this opinion to me before, never bothered to do anything about this situation. When questioned in class, he either responds well or not at all - and the not at all normally happens because he did not prepare for class.

But his mother insists that this is my fault. So, the last couple of days (yesterday and today) I've been giving him the extra attention he asked for at the conference with his mother. He seems to be responding well so far, but we'll see. I am willing to concede, especially as a novice, that I have things to work on. I want to work on them and I want people to point them out to me so that I can improve. It would be nice if people only had compliments for me, but that would mean I don't have any room for growth.

But when he is the only student in his class to fail, when I have a record number of Bs and As in his class... well, is it really that I'm going too fast and doing a poor job of teaching? Or is it that he was just fishing for an excuse to appease his mother and she was looking for anything she could grab onto so as not to blame her son like a drowning woman reaching for a lifesaver? Sadly, I cannot really be certain... I would argue that he had a disability and that I need to be sensitive to his needs if he hadn't done so well in other classes. History is really just applied reading, writing, and thinking and he did just fine in English and Science and so forth. So, what's the deal? There are many possibilities and I promise to revisit this matter after some further reflection.

For now, however, on to the secrets I alluded to in the post title.

The Friday home room had Study Hall 8th Period today and their home room teacher had to leave early for a family emergency. My home room being in a mandatory class related to their job, I decided to take the tykes into my room and do some remediation with them. The Friday home room had 14 students fail my class so they could use the extra help and attention.

I began by asking them to take out a notebook, preferably the one for my class, and I informed them that I was going to teach them about outlining. A few groans came from the room, but nothing serious. One student said, "I know about outlining already." I replied that he did not know it the way I was going to teach it. He scoffed. I went to the board and wrote, "Outlining" in big letters and someone said, "Is he serious? Are you serious?"

I stopped.

And then I dropped the chalk. I don't know why this got to me because worse has been said to me before. I think it was probably because it was 8th period, I was tired, and I was honestly trying to help these kids. But whatever it was, I just stopped. And I walked away from the board saying,

"You know what? I'm not serious. I'm a joker. I'm a teacher, I mean, why would I be trying to teach you something useful?" And I sat down at my desk.

The students sat stunned. A few thought they had hurt my feelings. One girl, who I don't think said the "Are you serious?" comment, confessed to it anyway and apologized. I shrugged and said, "It's OK. If you're not interested, why should I waste my time?" And started working on my computer. I stewed for about 45 seconds in my pyrrhic victory listening to the students begin to move on with their lives and then I got up and announced that I would be back momentarily. I crossed the hall to the math teacher, whose home room was at gym, and asked if he wouldn't mind watching 15 students or so. He asked if they had anything to do and I said they did not. He promised to keep them from killing each other. And then I returned with a plan I had made up in roughly the last 15 seconds.

Reappearing, I announced: "Alright, everyone, here's the deal. I am going to teach a very valuable skill that I would bet money not one of you in the room knows how to properly perform. If you are interested, you may stay and learn. If you are not, you may go across the hall to the math room and do as you please. It is study hall, so I suggest you study. But by all means, sit and talk if you like. I assure you there will not be any consequences, I will not get mad, you will not have detention. But if you choose to stay, I assure you, you will learn something very fascinating." All but 8 or 10 (I didn't count perfectly) left.

What of those who stayed? Well, one of them was a boy I once gave detention to for the remainder of 9th grade. Another was a girl whose command of English is anything but resplendent. Still another was a girl who has only recently begun to take an interest in class. Another was a boy that's been written off by two other teachers. Another was a boy who has been suspended, bombed one of my tests by earning a "0" and who once cursed out a teacher. The list goes on. It was a who's who of the misfits of that class. And then of course there's the girl who aced everything and has nothing but respect for all of her teachers. And another who I rarely hear speak. I smiled. I was reminded of Jesus calling the disciples given the cross-section nature of them all, although I called none of these students: they simply decided to stay. I instantly felt for the ones I had lost, but what would I have taught them? They had already decided I was a joke, so why fight for the ones that have branded themselves lost? Certainly I would not give up in class, but why try to help those who do not want it?

And so, I walked them through how to read not just my textbook, but anything and everything they get their little hands on. Read it through once and find the words you do not understand. Look them up, discuss them with someone else, and as a last resort, ask me/a teacher. Then the next step was to read it again and seek to grasp the context. If you're reading Moby Dick, you need to find out something, or, already know something about life in the 19th century, the international whaling industry, uses for sperm whale oil, and so forth. And then, I said, you're ready to start studying. Meanwhile, I'm writing all this information and all these little tips on the board in outline format.

Studying, I taught them, involves seeking out main ideas. I taught them first what that is, and then I taught them how to do it. Then I taught them how to seek out the deeper connection within themselves so that they could internalize the information the way people internalize their names and addresses, to "make it as much a part of themselves as the air they breathe, the blood in their vains, the toenails on their feet." They were captivated, enthralled, and they ate it up. I took them deeper into relating to history and the material than anyone ever had. I explained why I love history and I held up my metal thermos that I bring my Earl Gray tea in everyday and said, "I look at this and wonder how it's cylindrical and how humans could ever bend metal this way. Don't you? I look at the American flag and wonder why it's red, white and blue and not pink, green, and yellow. Don't you? I look at my own last name and your last name and your last name and wonder why we even have last names. Don't you? History is the only means of answering these questions."

And suddenly, they came alive. Students that had previously sat staring into space, wondering why the Iron Age should matter, suddenly cared. I made them care. I led them to caring. I brought it to them and they embraced it willingly. It was 3PM and school was over by 5 minutes. And they didn't want to leave. I finished the lesson and dismissed them. But a couple wanted to stay even longer with the rest begging me to forgive them for having to leave to catch buses and the like.

I reached them. Yes, I had to lose slightly more than half the class to do it. But I reached them. And they reached out to me. And they left me feeling as if I had fulfilled my purpose, as if I had triumphed as a teacher, as if I had done what God had placed me on his Earth to do. I'm wounded and hurt and disappointed and ridiculously saddened by the fact that so many decided to leave. One left - and mind you, he had failed my class prior to my applying the drop grades, so he wasn't as swift as he thought he was - saying, "I don't need this. I can do fine on my own." Another girl left without so much as a by your leave before I had even finished giving them their options. And so, my triumph came at a terrible cost. But in the end, I reached some of them. And what a POWERFUL, unexplainable feeling it was.

As they left, I said, "Don't tell your classmates what they missed. They opted to leave." And one of the students looked at me, the one who I once had been forced to give eternal detention to, and said, "Mr. Cochran, you just taught me one of the secrets of the universe. I wouldn't want to share that with anyone that doesn't want to know it." And he walked out of my classroom.

I am a teacher. I do not always know if I am successful. I'm not completely sure that I was today. But I do know that I possess secrets of the universe. One of my students told me as much.

And I want to share them with as many people as want to know them.