ChickenSoupfortheSoul:TeacherTales;101InspirationalStoriesfromGreatTeachersandAppreciativeStudentsbyJackCanfield,MarkVictorHansen,AmyNewmarkForewordbyAnthonyJ.Mullen,2009NationalTeacheroftheYear

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Chickensoupforthesoul:teachertales:101inspirationalstoriesfromgreatteachersandappreciativestudents/[compiledby]JackCanfield,MarkVictorHansen[and]AmyNewmark;forewordbyAnthonyJ.Mullen.

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ISBN:978-1-935096-47-4eISBN:978-1-61159-142-2

1.Teachers--UnitedStates--Literarycollections.2.Teachers--UnitedStates--Anecdotes.3.Teaching--UnitedStates--Literarycollections.4.Teaching--UnitedStates--Anecdotes.5.

Students--UnitedStates--Literarycollections.6.Students--UnitedStates--Anecdotes.7.Teacher-studentrelationships--UnitedStates--Literarycollections.8.Teacher-studentrelationships--UnitedStates--Anecdotes.I.Canfield,Jack,1944-II.Hansen,MarkVictor.III.Newmark,Amy.IV.Mullen,AnthonyJ.,1960-V.Title:Teachertales

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Contents

Foreword,AnthonyJ.Mullen

~WhyWeTeach~

1.FallingDown,AnthonyJ.Mullen2.I’mGladIt’sYouandNotMe,JeanLamar3.IAmaTeacher,AliceKing4.Dream,Vincent,Dream,GeorgeA.Watson5.DestinedtoTeach,KarenGill6.EchoesintheClassroom,SusanJohnson7.ALessonforLife,JamesEdwardPhillips8.BecomeLikeBumblebees,BebiDavis9.PowerofthePen,SusanElliott10.MusicTouchestheSoul,MarkD.Teesdale

~FirstYearTales~

11.OohLaLa,AdrienneTownsend12.MyMia,StephanieDoyle13.WhoWouldIDoWithout?,RichardsM.BoyceastoldtoSuzanneM.Boyce14.FirstYearDrama,RobbieIobst15.WhateverWorks,MarciaRudoff16.MyChristmasLesson,AnnaM.Lowther17.TheFlyintheRoom,JenniferA.Haberling18.BurgersandCries,SaraMatson19.TeachingfromCourage,QuyenThai

~LearningfromtheKids~

20.ToolsoftheTrade,BethEkre

21.TheLittleChoirwithaBigDream,KayConnerPliszka22.LifeLessonsfromMyStudents,SusanWaggener23.WelcometotheFourthGrade,JanBono24.AnUnexpectedLesson,MichaelLampert25.Connecting,TaniaL.Harman26.TheGlitterMask,CelesteMiller27.SchoolGlue,DorothyGoffGoulet28.RecessMoment,JeanneMuzi29.TheUnexpectedDifference,RebeccaSnyder30.TheHealingPowerofChildren,TimRamsey

~GreatIdeas~

31.TalesfromtheRappin’Mathematician,AlexKajitani32.BringMeBackaRock,AdrienneC.Reynolds33.GrowingRoots,KimberlyA.Worthy34.QueenAct,JaneenLewis35.MakingaDifferenceinOurCommunity,SallyJ.Broughton36.TheBeatnikofLincoln,RickWeber37.RealWorldMath,HeatherSparks38.EyeSeeYou,MalindaDunlapFillingim39.GiftsforJace,AngelaN.Abbott

~Thanks,INeededThat~

40.TheLesson,WilliamBingham41.AFewMinutesofKindness,SteveJohnson42.BlessedtoBeaTeacher,MargaretWilliams43.AWrinkledPieceofPaper,DeborahWickerham44.ThePowerofBelief,PaulKuhlman45.NotLostInTranslation,VickieA.Mike46.PersistencePays,NancyHamiltonSturm

47.FiveWords,MaryLuHutchins48.Mary,ChristineGleason

~ThatWasEmbarrassing~

49.RollerCall,MarthaMoore50.FieldTripFiasco,RonKaiser,Jr.51.BountifulSharinginFirstGrade,LindaA.Smerge52.TheNaughtyKid,SarahSmiley53.ClassroomFun,LoriNeurohr54.CrayonCrisis,DianeMMiller55.FullofSurprises,BlytheTurner56.SocialSecretary,IlahBreen

~TouchedbyaStudent~

57.LettersfromHome,JennaHallman58.TeachingtheTeacher,LisaMcCaskill59.Ashley,DeborahHohnTonguis60.StepbyStep,DerekOlson61.IWishEveryTeacheraKevonna,PatriciaL.Marini62.SpecialTreatment,D.B.Zane63.Clinton,CindyCouchman64.NotinMyClass,SherryPoff65.TheHeartofEmily,StephanieScharagaWinnick

~TheTeacherWhoChangedMyLife~

66.DivineIntervention,GloriaL.Noyes67.It’saGreatDaytoBeAlive!,KateLynnMishara68.TheGiftofSelf-Esteem,LeanneMaule-Sims69.WordsofWisdom,AmandaDodson

70.ATeacher ’sInfluence,DanMcCarthy71.ALifelongFriendship,JaydeRossi72.NotSoAccidental,BrookeM.Businsky73.TheDunceRow,DebFogg

~ToughKids~

74.Unforgettable,BarbaraWalton-Faria75.ATaleofTwoStudents,RoyHudson76.Chad’sAward,CherylY.Brundage77.GoingtheDistance,BobWilliams78.WhenGraceStepsIn,AmyMorrison79.AngryBlueEyes,SandraPicklesimerAldrich80.GettingAwayfromSchool,PaulKarrer81.BecominganEducator,SarahBaird

~Reconnecting~

82.TheWhiteCar,SharilynnTownsendLaMay83.ALessoninFriendship,JulieMellottGeorge84.AChanceEncounter,SharonGallagher-Fishbaugh85.GarageSaleRevelation,LisaMillerRychel86.TheTreasureChest,RobinSly87.SimplePleasures,JeanBrody88.StooptoConquer,EdneyL.Freeman89.MorethanMath,MichaelSegal

~ReflectionsonBeingaTeacher~

90.MakingaDifference,LindaHeffner91.AttitudeofGratitude,TommieAnnGrinnell92.SecretsStudentsKeep,LuajeanN.Bryan

93.BrandNewStarts,DianeStark94.SpringtimeMemory,CindiRigsbee95.Teacher ’sSummerList,KenanBresnan96.ASimplePlace,DianaLeddy97.ALossforWords,GaryRubinstein98.AGreaterPurpose,ChantelleHerchenhahn99.FirstDayJitters,AmyBenoit100.AnIndianTeachesAmerican-StyleinPolynesia,MuraliGopal101.TouchingtheFuture,WilliamThomas

MeetOurContributorsMeetOurAuthorsThankYouAboutChickenSoupfortheSoul

Foreword

Aveteranteachertoldmerecentlythatshewasconsideringleavingtheteachingprofession.“Idon’twakeupwiththeenergyIoncehad,”shesighed.“It’stakingmelongertogetdressedinthemorningandthat’snotgoodformystudents.”

Sadly,thisteacherisnotalone.Ihavebeenmeetingmanyteacherswhoarespendingtoomuchtimegettingdressedinthemorning.Somenolongerevenbothertogetdressedbecausetheyhavelefttheclassroom.ButIhadanaggingfeelingthatthearduoustaskofteachingwasnottheculpritresponsibleforsappinghermorningenergy.

“What’sreallycausingyoutowanttoleaveteaching?”Iasked.She paused for a few moments before responding. “I feel that I work in a profession

peoplenolongerrespectorvalue,”shereplied.“MyschoolmeasuresthevalueofeverythingIdoaroundtestscores.Ihaveneverseenitsobad;eachweekIambeingtoldanewwayinwhich to raise test scores. I am slowly losing my ability to both teach and nurture mystudents.”

What has become of the noble profession of teaching? From the perspective of anexperiencedteachingprofessional,thestateofAmericaneducationhasbecomeadata-drivensystemconcernedmorewithstandardizedtestscoresthanthesocialandemotionalneedsofchildren. A profession designed to better the human condition is losing its humanecharacteristics.

AndthatiswhyChickenSoupfortheSoul:TeacherTalesissuchanimportantandtimelybook.Written by and for teachers, it is a different type of book because it does not try topromoteanewmethodofpedagogyortrytoreinventthewheel.Howrefreshing.Thisbookis about the heart and soul of teaching and why we have committed our lives to helpingchildren.ChickenSoupfortheSoul:TeacherTalesisfilledwithwonderfulstoriesaboutteachersand

children.Someofthestorieswillmakeyoulaughandsomeofthestorieswillmakeyoucry.A fewwillmake youwant to scream at an educational bureaucracy seemingly blind to theneedsofchildrenandteachers.Youmaygettheurgetothrowthisbookatabureaucrat.That’sokay;justdon’tbreakthebook’sspine.

WhenIwasaskedtowritetheforewordforthisbook,Ineededtoknowifthebookcouldreinvigorate teachers who are suffering frommental and physical exhaustion. Could it beusedasabalmforthewearyteachersIencounterwhiletravelingacrossthenation?ChickenSoupfortheSoul’spublisher,AmyNewmark,whohaspersonallyeditedthisbook,quicklyansweredmyquestion.Amyisasoft-spoken ladybutwhenshespeaksabout thewelfareofteachers her voice elevates to a higher octave. Amy stressed the need for a book that caninspire novice andveteran teachers alike, a bookwritten by classroom teacherswhoknowhowtotellameaningfultale.IleftAmy’sofficefeelingreinvigoratedandeagertosharemyexcitementwithcolleagues.

Thefacesofmyfellow2009StateTeachersoftheYearsoonfloodedmymindasIthoughtaboutthepurposeandimportanceofChickenSoupfortheSoul:TeacherTales.Ihavebeena

lucky and privileged teacher, and one of the greatest privileges of being named NationalTeacheroftheYearhasbeenmeetingsomanygiftedcolleagues.AmyandItalkedaboutthepossibilityofeachStateTeacheroftheYearsubmittingastorytothebook.Theideahadalotof merit because these teachers represent some of the very best teachers in our country,educatorswhounderstandthatwhatweteachisnotasimportantaswhomweteach.Iproposedtheideatothe2009StateTeachersoftheYearandtheresponsewasunanimous:Weneedthistypeofbook!Writingastoryforthisbookbecameameansforthemtoexpresstheirpassionfor teaching and restoring the value of teachers in our lives. The stories written by theseteachersareincludedamongthemanywonderfulstoriescontributedbyoutstandingteachersandgratefulstudents.

Livinginafast-pacedworldfloodedwithtechnologyhastakensomethingawayfromtheessentialhumandesiretoenjoyastory.Andtheincreasingstandardizationandmeasurementofourprofessionhassappedusofsomeofourpassion.The101storiesinthisinspirationalbookwillprovideeveryteachersomerelaxationandsomefreshenergy.Thisbookremindsuswhyweareteachersandwhyweloveourwork.Anditshowsusthatweareindeedmuchappreciated.

~AnthonyJ.Mullen2009NationalTeacheroftheYear

2009ConnecticutStateTeacheroftheYear

WhyWeTeach

Man’smind,oncestretchedbyanewidea,neverregainsitsoriginaldimensions.

~OliverWendellHolmes

FallingDown

Thebestteachersteachfromtheheart,notfromthebook.~AuthorUnknown

SpanishHarlemisfulloflifeonsummernights,butthisyoungladywantedtodie.Thecrowdofonlookerspointedfingersata teenagegirlstandingatopafireescaperail,danglingherbodyovertherustyrailandthrowingpiecesofjewelrytothestreetbelow.

An elderly man told me that she was loco and would probably jump. He shrugged hisshouldersandwalkedaway.Iracedupthewoodenstairsoftheoldtenementbuilding,hopingtoquicklylocatethewindowleadingtothedistraughtteenager.Ifoundtheopenwindowonthefifthfloor.

Ipokedmyheadoutsidethewindowandpleadedwiththegirlnottojump.AmouthfulofclichéswasallIcouldoffer.“You’retooyoungtodie.You’retoobeautiful.Youhavefamilyandfriendsthatloveyou.”

Mywordsonlycontributed toherdeathwish—she releasedonehand from the railing. Ididnotwanttobethelastfaceshesawbeforejumpingoffthefireescape.AndIdidnotwanttoseethelookonherfaceasshewentfree-fallingtoadirtyNewYorkCitystreet.

“I’msickofallthisshitandjustwanttofuckin’die!”shescreamedatme.Shetoreawayapairofearringsandthrewthematthegrowingcrowdofspectators.

Iwastiredandunsure.Mymorningwasspentinacollegeclassroom,farremovedfromthisurbandrama.IwasstudyingtobecomeateacherandlearningaboutHowardGardner ’stheoryofmultipleintelligences.NowIwasdressedintheuniformofanNYCpolicesergeanttrying topersuadea teenager thather lifewasworth living.MypowersofpersuasionwerehavingthesameeffectasSupermanwearingasuitofkryptonite.

Isqueezedthroughthesmallwindowandstoodwithinafewfeetofthejumper.“Don’tgetanycloser,”shesaid.Suddenlymyclichésdidnotsoundliketritewords.

“I’mnotgoingtogetanyclosertoyou….”Shejumped.CallitluckorfateordivineinterventionbutImanagedtograbholdofoneofherarmsas

she leapt fromherwrought ironperch.Herweightquicklypulled the tophalfofmybodyover the railingand Icould feelmy feet liftingoff thegrated floor.Lord,giveme strengthechoedthroughmymind.Mypartnerreachedoutfrominsidetheroomandhegrabbedtheback of my belt. I could feel her arm slipping away from my hold and told him to run

downstairs;heneededtobeonthefireescapedirectlybelowus.Soonhewasstaringupatus,tryingtograbholdofapairofswinginglegs.

I was attending college because I wanted to become a teacher and work with troubledteenagers,thetypesofyoungpeopleroamingourstreetslikesomanybrokentoys.Iwantedtosavesoulsandwasnowlosingalife.Lord,pleasegivemestrength;Ineedonlyafewmoreminutesofstrength.Mypartnermanaged to take hold of the girl’s legs, relieving someof the stress onmy

backandarms.Iquicklytuckedmyhandsunderherarmpitsandpulledherup.Weeachsathuffingandpuffingontheoldfireescape.

Afewstorieshavefairytaleendings,butmostjustend.ThesuicidalteenagerwastakentoalocalhospitalandIreturnedtopatrolthestreetsofSpanishHarlem.AfewweekslaterIsawherhangingoutonastreetcorner,laughingandlisteningtomusicwithfriends.

I sometimes seeher face in the facesof the students that I teach today. I gotmywish toteach andmentor troubled teenagers.My students suffer from depression, anxiety, bipolardisorder and psychosis. Some are lonely, some are sad, some are angry, and some arefrightened.Butallriskfallingdownunlesswearetheretocatchthem.

~AnthonyJ.Mullen2009NationalTeacheroftheYear

2009ConnecticutStateTeacheroftheYearSpecialEducationteacher,grades9-12

I’mGladIt’sYouandNotMe

Teacherswhoinspirerealizetherewillalwaysberocksintheroadaheadofus.Theywillbestumblingblocksor

steppingstones;italldependsonhowweusethem.~AuthorUnknown

It was 2:00 AM. Themoon gleamed ever so slightly through a crack in the curtains, justenoughformetoglanceoveratmyhusband,sleepinglikeanewborn,snoringfortheentireworldtohear.IfonlyIcouldrestsopeacefully.

ButIcouldn’t,ofcourse.Itwasthebeginningofanotherschoolyear,andwakinguphoursbeforethealarminvariablyaccompaniesanewschoolstart—evenafteralmosttwentyyears.Mymindracedwiththoughtsofall thetasksIhaddone—“finding”filingcabinets,shelves,tables,decoratingmyroom,planningnewcoursesyllabi,buyingsupplies(andprayingthatIwould havemoney left to paymy bills)—and all the things I hadn’t. I was starting a newcurriculum, new grade-levels at a new school, and this year, I had agreed to teach allstruggling students in need of critical intervention…wherewould I go fromhere? I knewwhat layahead—arduousworkhoursoverlaidwithguilt,consumedwithessays thatneededfeedback,lessonplansdesirousofbestpracticestrategies,andideastotrytoreacheventhemostreluctantlearner.Nowonderpeoplealwaysacknowledgemyteachingcareerwith,“I’mgladit’syouandnotme.”Theknotinmystomachcontinuedtotighten.

Suddenly,my alreadymuddledmind transportedme to another time and place… tomyfirstfewyearsofteaching.

“PeterPotter,”Icalledfrommyroll,tryingtostiflemylaughter.“LaughlinMcLaughlin?”Surelythesewerenotrealnames.

“Emotionallyhandicapped…keepthemseparatedfromtheotherkids…inthisportable,”theAssistantPrincipalcommanded.Thiswasmyfirstteachingassignment,inafieldoutsidemyscopeoftraining(minewasEnglishEducation),obviouslylongbeforeitwasconsideredinappropriatetolabelkids.Eventhestudentshadnamesforeachother.“Stank”wastheoneIsadlyrecalled,evenafterallthistime.

Andthen…“theincident”—whenIlookeddowntoseeanexposedbodypartthatIdidnot—in any way, shape, or form—desire to see! I felt myself hyperventilating at the merethought….

Surelythisyearcouldneverbeasdauntingasthosefirstfew.

Later that day, I looked across my “new” classroom, into the face of Jason, whosecumulative folder I had just read. At eleven, his mother and brother were killed in anautomobile accident, leaving himwith physical, academic, and certainly emotional scars. Ilooked at another student, Robert, standing at the door; my Assistant Principal asked if Iwould takehim, even thoughhewas an eleventhgrader inmy tenthgrade class. “He can’tread;he’lldropoutunlessyoucandosomethingwithhim.”OfcourseIsaidyes;whatelsecouldIdo?

These stories merged into others across the years—Stephanie, who used writing as acatharsis to cope with the loss of her precious cancer-stricken mother; Michael, who sopowerfullyconnectedwiththeGreasersinTheOutsidersbecausehe,too,hadbeenabandonedbyhisfamily;Jason,whosecrack-addictmotherwasmurderedinaninner-cityalley;Brian,whoranawayfromhisfosterhome,desperatelyinsearchofa“real”homeandperhapsmoreimportantly,insearchofhimself;JoeyandDave,whosehandsliterallyshookwithfearwhentryingto“perform”foratest.Storiesoftearsandsadness,yetofhopethatIcouldsomehowmakeadifferenceinspiteofsuchbrokenness.

But then there were—and are—stories of success—of Dustin, in graduate school forElectricalandComputerEngineering;ofNoah, in seminary,preparing to serveGod in theministry;ofMichael—thesameMichaelabandonedbyhismother—nowateacherinaninnercityschool;ofWillie,onceastrugglingreader,whowentontobecomethefirstgenerationcollegegraduateinhisAfrican-Americanfamily.IthoughtofEmilyandAndi,ofAmberandKayla and Mallory, whose love and enthusiasm for books and characters still warm mythoughts.Ithoughtofcreativelessons,ShakespeareFestivals,schoolplays,andafter-schooltutoring sessions that have filled my life day after day, year after year. I thought of thethousandsof studentswhose liveshave touchedmine farmore than Icouldhaveeverhavetouchedtheirs.

Ibrokefrommyreverie,asmileradiatingacrossmyface.Sadness,tears,challenges,fears—yes, teaching is filledwithallof these—yet, it isundeniablyalsofilledwith laughterandsmiles,hope,dreams,andrewardsbeyondmeasure.

“I’mgladit’syouandnotme.”Thosewordsreverberatedinmymindonceagain.Yeah,soamI,Ithought…soamI.

~JeanLamar2009FloridaStateTeacheroftheYearEnglish,Readingteacher,grades9-12

IAmaTeacher

Whattheteacheris,ismoreimportantthanwhatheteaches.~KarlMenninger

Glancingintomyworld,theobservantsees…StudentsseekingguidanceAseaofeyesfilledwithdetermination,defiance,anddelightRoomsfilledwithdistinctpersonalitiesbeggingtobenoticedAdolescentsbombardedwithissuessearchingforapprovalBrightmindsdaringmetochallengethemIaccept…Iamateacher

Driftingthroughthehalls,theintentlistenerwillhear…Studentsvoicingopinions,learninghowtosupportthemThecreakingofmindsopeningtonewconceptsIdeasbeingabsorbedwithinthewallsoftheclassroomDiscussionsfullofinsightfulcomments,shoutsofcelebrationforajobwelldoneThetonesofstudentvoicesnotingsignsoffrustrationorjoyIlisten…Iamateacher

Gurglinginspirationrunsdeep,Ifeel…TheuncertaintyofstudentsventuringintoadulthoodApassionforteachingeachmorningasIstepbeforemyaudienceAnimpressionthatIcanmakeadifferenceonebabystepatatimeAsifIcanneverobtainenoughknowledge,ImustkeeplearningAnguish,sometimescaringmorethanaheartcanbear

Ihavefaith…Iamateacher

Inhalingdeeply,Isense…TheeducationalwindsofchangeblowinginacontinuingeddySwirlsofstandards,expectations,andobjectivessurroundingusFrenziedcollisionsofassessmentsandpotentialachievementsAcallforimprovedcooperationamongstudents,teachers,andcommunityThefuturefilledwithpossibilitiesIhope…Iamateacher

Examiningwithinmyself,Iacknowledge…Adeepneedtopleaseeveryone,stillknowingthisisnotfeasibleEmpathypouringfrommyhearttowardsstudentswholosetheirdirectionAnimbeddeddesiretomendhurtsandcreateabetterenvironmentAyearningtobeateacherwhotapsintothecreativespiritThechallengeofbalancingrolesofmother,wife,educator,advisor,andcoachIamnotsuperwoman…Iamateacher

Offeringadvicetoprospectiveteachers,Irecommend…PursuingthefieldofeducationwithanopenheartandmindExploringallthenuancesofyoursubjectareaandgainingastrongunderstandingAcceptingthefactthatteachingisalifechoiceRememberingthatyourhumanitymakesyouperfectfortheroleKnowingthattheperksareintrinsicNothingcomparestobeinganinfluenceinsomanylivesYoutakeachance…Beateacher

~AliceKing2009WyomingStateTeacheroftheYearEnglish,Speechteacher,grades10-12

Dream,Vincent,Dream

Youcanteachastudentalessonforaday;butifyoucanteachhimtolearnbycreatingcuriosity,hewillcontinuethelearningprocessaslongashelives.

~ClayP.Bedford

I have taught Spanish to thousands of students over my thirty-six years at Walpole HighSchool in Walpole, Massachusetts. My students have ranged from the most academicallygiftedtotheacademicallyat-risk.Thereisoneyoungman,however,whointhecourseofhishigh school career surpassed expectations of everyone in his life: his parents, his formerteachers,hispeersandhimself.HisnameisVincentLee.

Vinnie enteredmy classroom as a nervous freshman on his first day of high school inSeptember, 2005. He was enrolled in our Spanish IA course, a transition course betweenSpanishIandSpanishII forstudentswhounder-performed inSpanishI. In fact,Vinniehadnot had a lot of success in Spanish in the middle school. His eighth grade teacher haddescribedhimasthat“sad,introvertedboyinthelastrowwhoalwayskepthisheaddown.”Vinnie often went to class unprepared and could not see the point to learning anotherlanguage.And yet therewere other reasons to explain this lack ofmotivation. Vinniewasdealingwithalotofturmoilinhislife:therecentdivorceofhisparents,amovefromahousetoanapartment,andmuchgreaterresponsibilityathomefortakingcareofhisyoungertwinbrothersashismother,nowasingleparent,wasgoingtonightschooltoearnherbachelor ’sdegreeandbetterherownlifeandthatofherfamily.

FromtheverystartofmycourseIsensedanattitudethatseparatedVinniefromhispeers.Heenteredclasseachday,tookhisseatquietlyandtookoutwhatheneededforthelesson.Atfirst he was somewhat shy about answering questions in Spanish, but as the courseprogressed,Iwasabletoengagehiminconversationsabouthisfamily,hisinterestsandhispassions.Theseincludedfootball,baseballandtrack.WithtimeVinniebecamemorewillingtovolunteerandevenaskmequestions.HeseemedfascinatedbythefactthatmyparentswerefromCostaRicaandthatIwasfluentinbothEnglishandSpanish.Whenheonceaskedhowlong it takes tobecomefluent inanother language, Iexplained that it takesmanyyearsandthatthefirstsignthatapersonhasadoptedthelanguageashisowniswhenonedreamsinthatlanguage.Contrarytowhatwehadseeninmiddleschool,Vinnierarelymissedahomeworkassignmentbecausethismeantthedreaded“redsnake”stamponhishomeworkcalendar.Onthose rare occasions that this happened,Vinniewould becomevery frustratedwith himselfandIhadtoreassurehimthathestillhadaverygoodchanceatgettinganA-onhomework

forthatmonth.Clearly,Vinniewasbeginningtoviewhimselfasastudent.Furthermore,Iwasbeginning

toviewhimasapositiverolemodelfortheotherstudents.Hewasmy“go-toguy”whennoonecouldansweraquestionorwhenIneededtopairupastrugglingstudentwithsomeonewhowasmoreproficient.OncespringcameIrecommendedthatheparticipateintheNationalSpanishExamcontest.Muchtomysurprisehedecidedtodosoandlaterwefoundoutthathehadwon a certificado demérito. One of my proudest moments as his teacher was to callVinnie to the stage at our annual Foreign Language Awards Night to honor him for hisoutstandingperformance.

By the end of the year Vinnie had achieved such a high level of proficiency that IrecommendedhimforthehonorsprograminSpanish,quitearemarkableachievementforastudentwhowasin“transition.”Infact,thishadneverhappenedbeforeatourhighschool.Irememberoftenwonderingwhat itwasabout thisclass thathadbroughtout thebest in thisyoungman.

Although I neverhadVinnie again in class I followedhimuntil his graduation this pastyear,watchinghimplaycornerbackintheSuperBowlstatefootballchampionshipatGilletteStadium, marveling at his amazing accomplishments in track (coming in 4th in the NewEnglandmeetinthe100-meterrace)andhearingsubsequentSpanishteacherssinghispraises.During his senior year Vinnie and I had several opportunities to speak about his collegepursuitsandfuturegoals.Inthoseconversationshesharedwithmeacoupleofobservationsthat touchedmedeeply.Firstof all,he said thatmyclasswas the first class inhigh schoolwherehehadtastedsuccess.HesaidthatmyenthusiasmfortheSpanishlanguageandculturehadmotivatedhimtocontinuewithSpanishfor thenext threeyears. Inhiswords,myclasswasnotjustaSpanishlesson,itwasaSpanishexperienceandthishad“flipped”hisviewoflearningalanguage.Secondly,heconfessedtomethathehadrecentlydreamtinSpanish.HesaidthatwhenhewokeupthatmorninghethoughtaboutwhatIhadsaidinclasswhenhewasa freshman and that this hadmadehimvery proudof how far he had come in his foreignlanguagestudy.

HavingtaughtVinniefouryearsagohasmademereflectontheimportanceofconnectingwithkidsinclassandtheimportanceofignitingthatsparkwhichwillpropelthemdowntheroad toacademicsuccess. Ithasalso remindedmehowsuccessbegetssuccessandwhatanamazingenginethiscanbeforanyonewhomakestheeffort.

Likeallgoodstories,thisonehasahappyending.VinniegraduatedinthetoptenpercentofhisclassandwentontoTuftsUniversity,thefirstmaleinhisfamilytogotocollege.Hisdreamistoattendmedicalschool,tobecomeadoctor,andtofindacureforCrohn’sdisease,anailmentwhichhasplaguedhimallhislife.Ihavenodoubtthat“Vicente”willbesuccessfulinwhateverprofessionhechoosesandthat,perhaps,somedayhemayevendreaminSpanishonceagain.

~GeorgeA.Watson2009MassachusettsStateTeacheroftheYear

Spanishteacher,grades9-12

DestinedtoTeach

AllthatIamoreverhopetobe,IowetomyangelMother.~AbrahamLincoln

Mymothermademeateacher.Idon’tmeanthatsheforcedmetobecomeateacher;infactshewasadamantthatIcouldbeanythingIwanted.Mymothermademeateacherbecauseshetaughtmetolovelearning,andtolovesharing.Herownfathertoldherthattherewasn’tanypointinagirlgoingtoschoolpasttheeighthgrade,butmymotherknewbetter.Betweenherinfluence,andmyownnaturaltendencies,Iwasdestinedtoteach.

Inadditiontomymother ’soverridinginfluence,thereareseveralothereventsinmylifethatconvincedmetobecomeateacher.WhenIwaslittleIcouldnotpronouncethesyllable“er.”Noonecouldunderstandme.IrememberbeingVERYfrustrated.Then,whenIwasfour,mymothertookmetomeetawonderfulspeechteachernamedMissPhilips.Withinsixweekstheproblemwasfixed;Icouldsay“sister”and“flower”andalloftheplentifulandpowerful“er”words. I learned then, inaverypersonalway, the tremendouspowerofeducation.Mymother said, “Teaching is the world’s most important job,” and I knew exactly what shemeant.

When I was thirteen I spent a month in Shiner ’s Hospital having a spinal fusion forscoliosis.Iwastherefortwoweeksbeforethesurgery,havingtestsrunandgettingtoknowtheotherpatientsintheward.Theotherchildrenwerewonderful,verysweetandcaring.Ihadthem sign an autograph book so I could remember them. I remember being shocked thatalthoughtheywereallclosetomyage,andveryintelligent,manyofthemcouldbarelywritetheirnames.Mymotherexplained thatmanyof themhadbeen inandoutofhospitals theirentirelivesandhadnothadastableeducation.Ilearnedthenwhatadifferencetheopportunitytolearncouldmakeforachild.Mymothersaid,“Aneducationistheonethingnoonecantakeawayfromyou.”

InmiddleschoolandhighschoolItookthemostdifficult,mostdiverseclassesofferedtome. My classes included band, industrial arts, visual arts, creative writing, calculus andphysics.Physicswashard,anditmademereallythink;itwaswonderful!ImadestraightA’sandgraduatedasvaledictorian.Mymotheralwayssaid,“Learneverydaylikeyouaregoingtoliveforever”and,“Ifit’sworthdoing,it’sworthdoingright.”SowhenIwasreadytopickacareer,Ihadastrongworkethic,aloveoflearning,arespectforteachers,adesiretothinkand help others, and the belief that education could change everyone’s life for the better. IknewIhadtobeateacher.

Ipurposefullymadethechoicetoteach,andexceptforafewtimesduringmyfirstyear,Ihaveneverregrettedit.TeachinghasbeenawonderfulcareerformeandIhavebeenluckyenough tomakewhat I feel are some important contributions to education. I am eternallygrateful to the teachers and programs that helped me learn the art of teaching and I amcommittedtohelpingotherteachers.Asapresenteratdistrict,state,andnationalmeetingsandasanational“PhysicsTeacherResourceAgent”Ihavehadtheopportunitytoshareideaswithteachers throughout the state and even the nation. I know that by helping, equipping, andencouragingotherteachers,IamabletotouchstudentsthatIwillneversee.

Iamveryproudofmyworkwithotherteachers,butIconsidermyfirstresponsibility,andmostimportantaccomplishment,tobethesuccessofmystudents.Ilovetoseethelightinastudent’seyeswhenunderstandingdawns.Ialsolovehearingfromformerstudents.Thisnotecamefromagirlwhowouldhardlytalkaboveawhisperwhenshefirststartedmyclass.“Ms.Gill, I didn’t realizeHOWMUCH I learned in your class. It is three years later and I amgettingA’sinPHY232withoutevenstudying!”Thise-mailcamefromagirlwhostartedmyclasswithnointerestinmathorscience:“I’veofficiallydeclaredmymajor.IdeclaredasaPhysicsBSwithamathminor.Iamseriouslyconsideringworkingtowardsbeingaprofessororhighschool teacher. Iguess this justgoes toshowhowmuchaclass inhighschoolcanchangewhatyouwanttodowithyourlife.Thanksagain!”

Throughoutmy teaching career I have hadmany students say tome, “I knowwhy youbecameaphysicsteacher,it’sbecauseyougettoplaywiththecoolesttoys!”Ijustsmile.The“toys” are a great teaching tool. They catch students’ attention, help them relax, andmakethemwanttounderstandhowthingswork.Idohavetoadmittheyarecool—buttheyaren’twhy Ibecameaphysics teacher.MymotherdidNOTsay“Playingwith toys is theworld’smost important job.”Watching thestudents learnandbeexcitedabout learning, feeling likethey have benefited frommy planning, support, guidance and passion—those thingsmaketeaching awonderful job.Hearing them say things like “This is cool,” “Wow—thismakessense,” and “Ms. Gill, you have corrupted my mind; I am seeing physics conceptseverywhere,”andespeciallyhavingthemcomebacktovisitaftertheygraduate—thatiswhyIlove teaching. I feel like I ammaking a difference in the lives ofmy students, and in theworld,andsoIwillalwaysbegratefultomymotherformakingmeateacher.

~KarenGill2009KentuckyStateTeacheroftheYear

Physicsteacher,grade11

EchoesintheClassroom

Theobjectofteachingachildistoenablehimtogetalongwithouthisteacher.

~ElbertHubbard

IsithereinthisemptyclassroominJune,deskscleared,chairsstacked,computersdisassembled,lampwireswrappedlikevinesaroundtheirstands.Mygradesareposted,thecheckoutcomplete.Thecabinetdoorsarebare,nakedwithoutthestudentpoems.OnlythephotosofEarth,Gandhi,SojournerTruth,andCesarChavezremainhighabovethewindowsexemptfromthemaintenancelist.Mypileofplants,poetrybooks,andjournalsliebytheoutsidedoor,readytoreturnhomeforthesummer.ThecustodianandIaretheonlyonesleftinthebuilding.Isitforamomentinthestillness.Andfromthecarpetintheback,upagainstthecurtains,avoicerises:“LeteverysoldierhewhimdownaboughAndbear ’tbeforehim…”(Macbeth5.4.4-5)

Andthere,inthebackoftheroom,IamcertainIcanseeMatt,wieldinghissword,cloakedinhiscape,leadinghisarmytodefeatMacbethandclaimthekingdomasitsrightfulheir.

Matt,whohadwrittentomeinSeptember,“Iplayfootball.Ihaveahardtimepresentingtotheclass.Ihaveahardtimewritingessayslikegettingstarted.”Whorevealed,“Ineedalittle

helpwritinganintroduction.Iwouldliketowritemyownpoem.”Hesharedthathe“didn’treadthatgood”andthathisgoalswere“tofinisha longbook…”and“AsacommunicatormystrengthsarebadbecauseI’mnotthatgoodatspeakingtoabigclass.IthinkIwoulddobetterspeakingtoyou.”

Matt,whohadsatwithmeinOctober,tryingtofindafocusforhismemoir,lookingforthatsignificantmomentinhistriptoMountRushmore.Drawingthedoorthatledouttothemonument,thewoodenwalkway,thecarvings,himself,hisgrandparents.Speakingfromthepicturetodescribethesize,thecolors,thefaces.Havingthecouragetoreturntohisdraft,tonarrowhisfocus,toorganize,togosmallanddetailed.Hewrotethatmemoir,eventhough“at first I didn’t even knowwhat amemoirwas.”And hewrote poetry—an “IAm From”poem,afoundpoem,anonsensepoem,poemshebecamewillingtoshareinclass.HewrotetothefootballcoachtopersuadehimtopurchasenewjerseysfortheJVteam.Helearnedtobeawriter.Infact,inNovemberhewrote,“Asawriteratthistime,Ijustloveit.Ifindwritingfascinatingtodo.”

HereadTheKiteRunnerbychoice,and“learnedtounderstandwhatthebookmeansinmyeyes.”He became comfortable in his small group to talk about the class readings:Atticus’courage,LangstonHughes’“salvation,”SandraCisneros’disappointment.Heexplained,“AtthebeginningofthetrimesterIsuckedintalkingwithgroups….Ineededtobreakoutofmyshellandjustbeacommunicator.NowIamagreatcommunicator.Ilovespeakingingroups,andtoyou,Mrs.Johnson.…”

SoinFebruarywhenwerereadytostudyMacbeth,andwesettheclassroomupasatheaterandSarahbroughtinhercollectionofcostumesandwepulledoutourwoodenswordsandturnedthe lightsdownlow,Mattsaidhewantedto take theroleofMalcolm.Matt,whohadbeentooshytoreadhismemoirinAuthor ’sCircle,wantedtotaketheroleofMalcolm.

AndsohebecameMalcolm.InourReaders’Theatre,hefledtoEnglanduponlearningofthemurderofhisfather;heurgedMacdufftoturnhisowngriefforhisfamily’smassacretoanger;heorderedhissoldierstohidethemselveswithboughsfromBirnamWood.Thenjustabout the timewewerenearingActFive,Matt approachedmeafter school,voice lowered,headbent,shouldersdropped,“Mrs.Johnson,mymotheristakingmetoArizonatoseemyauntnextweek.I’llbegoneforfivedays.”Webothknewwhathisabsencewouldmean:theclasswouldfinishtheplaywithouthim.“ItoldmymotherI’mMalcolm.I’vereadaheadandIknowhe’sgoingtobecomeking.ItoldherIwanttobeheretofinishtheplay.”

IcommiseratedwithMattthatday,asdisappointedashethathisculminatingscenewouldpasstoanotherstudent.Iprivatelywonderediftheconfidencehehadbuiltmightfadewithouttheopportunitytoperformhis“finale.”WebrainstormedsolutionslikedelayingthetripuntilSpringBreak—buthehadalreadytriedthatsuggestiontonoavail.Iphonedhismother,butasfriendlyastheconversationwas,shesaidsheneededtokeepherplans.MattandIreluctantlyacceptedtherealityandmadelessonplansforhisabsence.

That Saturday, I sawMatt’s grandmother in the checkout line at Safeway. She and I hadknowneachotherformore than twentyyears—bothofuseducators. Infact,shehad taughtmyson.Idecidedthatfatemusthavegivenmethisopportunityandjoinedherinline.Afterour initial, effusive hugs and hellos, I venturedmy attempt.” I’m sorryMatt willmiss his

performanceinMacbethnextweek.”“Oh,yes,”shesaid,“hetoldmehowmuchhelovesbeinginthatplay.”“I surewas hoping hismother could put that trip off until SpringBreak to give him a

chancetoclaimthecrowninthefinalscene.Hewassoexcitedaboutthatmoment.”“Hmm.Yes,Iwasthinkingalongthosesamelines,”sheagreed.“Well,ifyoucanuseanyofyourgrandmainfluence,itwouldbegreatforMatt.”Thatwasthat.Shepaidthecashier,wesaidourgoodbyes,andIloadedmygroceriesonto

theconveyorbelt.Iarriveatschoolearly—inthequietofthemorning—that’smybesttimetowriteplanson

the board, score a few papers, check my e-mail, meet with struggling students. I had notscheduledappointmentsthenextmorning.Butbeforetherushofthebusarrival,thefloodofstudents in the hallway, Matt appeared at the classroom door. Smiling broadly, he strodeacrossthefloor.“Well,I’vegotsomegoodnews!MygrandfathercalledmymotherlastnightandtalkedherintotakingourtripoverSpringBreak!”

“That’sgreatnews,Matt!YouareMalcolm!”And then,with abit of awhoop,wehigh-fivedincelebration.

Mattreadiedforhisfinalscene,nervous,forheknewhislinesclosedtheplay.AsMacduffenteredwithMacbeth’shead,allshoutedtoMalcolm,“HailKingofScotland!”Mattstoodtall,cloakedinhiscape,swordrestingintriumph,BurgerKingcrownnowplacedonhishead.Inhis nervousness, he stumbled on a few of his phrases. Nevertheless, he did his best toproclaim:

…Ofthisdeadbutcherandhisfiendlikequeen,Who,as‘tisthought,byselfandviolenthandsTookoffherlife—thisandwhatneedfulelseThatcallsuponus,bythegraceofGraceWewillperforminmeasure,time,andplace:Sothanksforallatonceandtoeachone,WhomweinvitetoseeuscrownedatScone.(Macbeth5.7.69-75)

Witha final flourish, the stageemptied.Matt later chidedhimself for stumblingover thoselastwords,butIassuredhimnooneelsehadnoticed.Hehadportrayedthenoblerolenoblyanddiscoveredthestrengthtoperforminfrontofhispeers.

Matt wants to perform in more plays; he wants to write more and readmore. “What Ilearnedistojustbreakoutofyoursurroundingandjusthavefunwhileyou’reatschool.MystrengthsarejusttodoitandnotlookbackonyourhighschoolcareerandsayheyIreallywishIcouldhavehadfuninallofmyclasses.”

SoasIsithereinthisemptyclassroom,IamcertainIhearhisvoice,

seehisbroadsmile,feeltheclapofhishigh-fivecelebration.That’shimface-to-facewiththeantagonist,risingtohischallenge,voicinghisconvictions,andtriumphinginhishope.

~SusanJohnson2009WashingtonStateTeacheroftheYearEnglishLanguageArtsteacher,grades10-12

ALessonforLife

Learningisatreasurethatwillfollowitsownereverywhere.~ChineseProverb

Petrified.That’showIfeltthatMondaymorningwhenmymarinesciencestudentscameintoclassandbeganencouragingoneoftheirclassmatesto“Tellhimwhathappenedatthebeachyesterday.”

Mymarinesciencestudentsbenefitfromthefactthat,inadditiontomyacademicteachingresponsibilities,I’malsocertifiedasanIDCStaffInstructorbytheProfessionalAssociationofDivingInstructors(PADI).BecauseIhavethegreatestPrincipalontheplanet,eachofmystudents receives a PADI Open Water Diver certification as part of our marine scienceprogramatMarianasHighSchoolhereontheislandofSaipan.Oncecertified,mystudentsuse theirnewdivingskills toconduct supervisedunderwater researchprojectson thecoralreefsadjacenttoourisland.

Theprogramisasrewarding to teachas it is for thestudentswhotake it.Manyof themhavefoundtheirpassionfortheoceanandtheresourcesitcontainsandarenowenrolledasmarinebiologyandoceanographymajorsincollegesanduniversitiesonGuam,Hawaii,andtheU.S.mainland.Itisfulfillingtoknowthatsomemayonedayreturntotakeanactiveroleinthestewardshipandmanagementofourisland’spreciousmarineresources.

Onthisday,however,Iwasfrozeninfearandwonderingwhathadhappenedatthebeach.Being islanders surroundedbywater, I teachmy students that theocean is not a dangerousplace,butcanbeveryunforgiving to thosewhomakemistakes.Assuch,my first thoughtswerefortheirsafetyandwellbeing.Ididaquickheadcount.Theywereallinclasswithalltheirpartsinplace.Ibecamelessafraidandmorecuriousaboutwhathadhappened.ButIwaswhollyunpreparedforthestorytheytold.

Athree-year-oldplayinginthewaternearshorehadbeenleftunattendedbyhisoldersisterforamoment. In the time it tookher to turnaroundandfindhim,hehaddrowned.Franticfamilymembersandbeachgoersrushedtohelp,butnoonewassurewhattodo.Oneofmystudentswasatthebeachthatdayandrushedovertohelp.ShehadtakenaCPRandfirstaidcourse that I’d taught as an after-school program sevenmonths earlier. Remembering hertraining, andwith the assistance of a bystander, she began providing rescue breathing andchestcompressionsanddirectedothers tocall911.Bythe timeparamedicshadarrived, thechildwasbreathingandinhismother ’sarms.

As teachers, we know that through our energy and effort children learn. They becomeinterested.Somefindtheirpassionsandpursuetheirdreams.Inthiswayweknowwehavethepowertochangelives.I’daddthatonceinawhilewehavethepowertosavealife.

Wordsstillfailtoexpresshowitfeelstohavebeenapartofsuchanamazingevent.Thefeelingofbeingintherightplace,attherighttime,withtheabilitytoteachtherightskillsandknowledgethatempoweredastudenttosavealifeishumbling.PerhapsmystudentsummeditupbestwhenIaskedherhowitfelttohavesavedsomeone’slife.“Prettycool,”shesaid.

Iguessso.

~JamesEdwardPhillips2009CCSSOStateTeacheroftheYear

CommonwealthoftheNorthernMarianaIslandsMarineScience,Physicsteacher,grades9-12

Editor ’snote:TheNorthernMarianasareaU.S.possessionabout3,500mileswestofHawaii,andabout1,600milessouthofJapan.

BecomeLikeBumblebees

Teachingisleavingavestigeofoneselfinthedevelopmentofanother.Andsurelythestudentisabankwhereyoucandeposityourmostprecioustreasures.

~EugeneP.Bertin

ThetranquilHawaiinightwaspunctuatedbyasadvoice,“Ihatesayinggoodbyes.Seriouslyman,becauseitmakesmefeellikecrying.”MyhusbandHarryturnedtoJulianinthebackofmycarandsaidinacuriousvoice,“Areyouokay,youdrunkorwhat?”MyhusbandandIwere giving Julian, Jorge, and Dio a ride back to their homes in Kalihi after they hadcompetedwithstudentsfrommanycountriesinthe2006InternationalFuelCellCompetition.

Julianslowlysaid,“IalreadymissthetwoboysfromJapan.Ifeelsad,justlikewhenIwasleavingChina.”Julian’stearfulvoiceformedalumpinmythroat.Hesadlysaid,“WhenIwasinChinateachingEnglishtothekidsinBaojing,Igotsoconnectedtothem.AsIwasleaving,Istartedcryingbecausethechildrenwererunningaftertheminivanwavingandshouting.”

Harryreplied inacalmvoice,“What,didyousteal theirstuff?”Therewassilenceforafewseconds,andthenaswefinallyunderstoodHarry’sjoke,welaughedandlaughedallthewaytoKalihi.Afterthatnight,Julian,Jorge,andDiobecamethethreemusketeersandHarrywasthemaster-teer.

Thesethreeboysareapartofmyfamily.ImovedtoHawaiifromGuyana,SouthAmerica.InHawaiiIhadnoohana(family).Formanyyears,lifewasprettylonelybutwhenIbecameateacher Istarted tounderstand theHawaiiansaying Ikeaku, ‘ikemai,kokuaakukokuamai;pelaiholakanohana‘ohana.Translation:Recognizeothers,berecognized,helpothers,behelped;suchisafamilyrelationship.Havingnobiologicalchildren,allmystudentsbecamemyhanai(adopted)children.

WhenIfirstintroducedHarrytothethreemusketeers,Iknewthatmylifewasnevergoingtobethesame.Theyhititoff!Julian’simaginationiswildandHarry’siswilder.JorgeandDioareliketheicingandcandlesonacakebecausetheirpresenceignitesandenhancesthewholeexperience,makingitmorememorableandbeautiful.Thethreemusketeersformedaspecialbondandthatwastherespectandlovetheyhadforeachotherandme.TheycalledmeMom,whichatfirstembarrassedme.Later,Ilearnedtoappreciateit.

These threeboyscamefromhumblebackgroundsandwereonfree/reducedlunchat thelargestpublichighschoolinHonolulu,buttheybecamerolemodelsforeachotherandformany other high school students. They never stopped striving for excellence because theywantedtomakemeproud.Theyholdaspecialplaceinmyheartandtheyremindmeofwhat

beingateacherisallaboutandhowgratefulstudentsareforourguidance.IhadmetJorgeoneafternoonafterschoolwhenIranintothistinykidwithpliersanda

multimeterinthehallwayofthesciencebuilding.Iasked,“What’supwithallthetools?”Hesaid that hewasworking on an Invention Factor Project tomake toysmore electronicallyviableforkidswithdisabilities.Iwasimpressed.Itoldhimthatifheeverwantedtoworkonmoreprojectsheshouldstopby.Jorgestoppedby theverynextdayandhasneverstoppedcoming,eventhoughhegraduatedfromhighschool.HeisaFilipinoboywhostartedhighschoolwithmanyacademicdisadvantages.HewasplacedintoHaleKulia,wherethestudentsneed extra help with their academics. I used his love of computers to enable him. Jorgebecameoneof the best programmers that our school ever produced, leadingourRoboticsTeamtosecondplaceintheHawaiiPacificRegional.Hehasovercomemostofhisacademicchallenges.

I met Dio and Julian when two boys, one Filipino and one Chinese, walked into myclassroomduringlunch,pushingeachotherforwardandarguingaboutwhoshouldgofirst.ThiswasafterIwasnamedthe2005MilkenFamilyFoundationNationalEducator.TheysaidthattheywereproudofmeandaskedifIcouldhelpthemwiththeirschoolwork.

DioseesmyhusbandHarryasafatherfigurebecausehisdaddiedbeforehewasborn.TheweekthatIwastotakeDiototheInternationalFuelCellCompetition,Ispokewithhismother.Shesaid,“Ms.Davis,mysonhasneverbeenawayfromme.Heismyonlychildandallmyjoy;ifanythinghappenstohim,Idon’tknowwhatIwoulddo.IknowthatmyDioisgettingolderandneedstogooutandexperiencethings.”Icouldn’tbreathebecauseofthepainandemotioninhervoice.“Diolovesyouandalwaystellsmehowwellyoutreatthem.So,Itrustyoutotakegoodcareofmyson.”Istillrememberthatfeeling.

DioandJulianwereacoupleofrascalsandtheyneverstoppedembarrassingmeinfrontoflargegroupsbygoingonstageandshoutingout,“Ms.Davisweloveyou,thankyou,youare the best!”Diowent on toUCDavis on aGatesScholarship, but often showsup inmyclassroomandsurprisesmebycoveringmyeyesandmakingmeguesswhoitis.

Julian’sparentsdonotspeakEnglishanddidnotgraduatefromhighschool,soJuliansetouttoachievewhatmanydeemedimpossibleatFarringtonHighSchool.Thisiswhathesaidinhisvaledictorianspeech(reprintedwithpermissionfromJulianYuen):

TheChinese oftenuse theword keku. Itmeans to overcomehardship, a trait that isused to gauge a person’s inner strength. Keku includes the ability to swallow thebitterness without complaining. I truly believe each of us has had to overcome thebitterness in our lives. Whether it was with family, friends, school, or even withinourselves,thereweretimeswherewefeltlikeitwastheend.Butsomethinginsidekeptusgoing;thatburningdesiretellingusthatthisisnottheend,andthatwemustkeepfighting. Ms. Davis, thank you for helping me overcome the adversities in my life,givingme somany opportunities, and now I’m off toMIT and tomorrow,NASA, allbecauseyouhadthebeliefthatIcouldreallyaccomplishsomethinginlife.…A wise Chinese boy once said, “Think like a bumblebee. Do as a bumblebee.”

Because, according to science, because of the size, weight, and shape of the

bumblebee’sbody,itshouldbescientificallyimpossibleforittofly.Butaswecanallsee,theselittlebeescontinuetobuzzaround,flappingtheirlittlewingsthroughouttheworld.Noonetoldthebumblebeethatit’snotsupposedtofly;buttheydon’tknowthatsotheycontinuetoflyanyway,regardlessofwhatsciencemaysay.Soremember,asweembarkonourjourneytosuccess,societymaystereotypeusbecauseofwherewearefrom.Butlikethebumblebee,wedonotknowofthisstereotype,andinstead,wechoosetokeeponflying,untilwereachourgoals,andsomemore.Whateverthenegativitywemayencounter,bringiton.Causewe’refromKalihi,andwecantackleanybrickwallsthatcomeourway;becauseweknowbrickwallsaretheretotesthowbadlywewantsomething;andbelieveme,weallwantitrealbad.

AsateacherIknowthatfeeling;IhatesayinggoodbyetomystudentsbutIlovetoseethembecomelikebumblebees.

~BebiDavis2009HawaiiStateTeacheroftheYear2009PacificTeacheroftheYearPhysics,Chemistry,grades9-12

PowerofthePen

Itdoesn’tmatter.Youcanstillfly,there’sotherwaystogetaroundittogettoyourdream.

~KathyRonci

Inthelate1990s,afamilyvisitedthepublicelementaryschoolwhereItaughtdeafstudents.Theysaidtheywouldbemovingtothedistrictandplannedtoenrolltheirdeafdaughterasafirstgrader.Theywereupsetthattheirchild’skindergartenteachercautionedthemnottohavehighhopesforheracademically.Baseduponassessmentresults, the teacherpaintedableakpicturefortheirlittlegirl’sfuture.StandingbehindthemwasKatherine,abeautifulfive-year-oldwithlongshinybrownhairanddarkflashingeyes.Thewholetimeherparentswerethereshedidn’tmakeasoundorusesignlanguage,evenwhenherparentspromptedher.

After a few weeks with Katherine, I discovered I was dealing with a very bright, verystrong-willed child. Although I was able to engage her in a variety of learning activities,writingwasaconstantstruggle.I triedallkindsof trickerytointeresther inwriting.Everytimethepencilscameout,shewouldshutdownandrefusetoparticipate.

One day Katherine got off her bus and stood in front of the school wailing. The staffmemberspresentdidnotknowenoughsignlanguagetoaskherwhyshewascrying.Finallytheywhiskedher into theofficewhere theyhandedherapenandnotepad.Katherinewrote:“PAC BAK.” Immediately the office staff realized she left her backpack on the bus. TheysummonedthebusbacktoschoolandsoonKatherinewasreunitedwithherbackpack.

That day Katherine discovered the power of the pen. From then on she had a newappreciation for writing. She is a youngwoman now and has become an excellent writer,public speakerand student leader.Duringher senioryear inhigh schoolKathybecame theDouglas County Rodeo Queen and the following year she enrolled at the University ofNorthernColoradodeterminedtobecomeateacher.Inthesummerof2008ItraveledtotheNational Association of the Deaf Conference in New Orleans and watched her performcompetitivelyasMissDeafColorado.Kathykeeps in touchand Iespecially treasurehere-mailswithtermpapersattached.Thisyoungladywieldsaverypowerfulpen!

P.S.Althoughsheallowsmetosharethisstory,sherollsthosebigbrowneyeseverytimeItellit.

~SusanElliott2009ColoradoStateTeacheroftheYear

2009NationalTeacheroftheYearFinalistEnglish,SocialStudiesteacher,grades9-12

MusicTouchestheSoul

Musicistheuniversallanguageofmankind.~HenryWadsworthLongfellow

As educators,we often never know the extent of the impactwe have on our students. It isalways wonderful to have former students visit us and share the successes they haveencountered.Andthosegloriousmoments,whenwecaninstantlyseetheimpactwehaveonastudent, fuel us to continuemaking connections hoping tomake a difference in the life ofeverychild.

Amusicteacherfortwenty-sevenyears,Ihavealwaysknownthatmusictouchesthesoul.Itcanbreakthroughallkindsofbarrierstoreachstudentsinaveryspecialway.Itcanbethemeansforeachchildtofindtheirlight.

Iwould like to share a storywheremusic broke through a physical barrier andmade aconnectionwithayoungstudent.ForafewyearsIwasblessedwiththeopportunitytoteachpre-schoolhandicappedstudentsoneafternoonaweek.OneofmymostmemorablestudentswasayounggirlIwillcallVanessa.Vanessawasfiveyearsold,haddifficultywalking,andcouldnotspeak.WemostlysatonthefloorforourmusiclessonsandVanessalikedtositonmy lap.One of her favorite songswas “John theRabbit.” Itwas a call and response songwhereIsangthecallandthestudentsclappedtwotimeswhilesingingtherepeatingphrase,“Oh,yes!”Vanessalikedtoputherhandstogetherwithmineandclapwithme.Weprobablyperformed that songduringeveryclass,VanessaandIclapping together.Sheneversaidorsangaword.

Onedaylateintheschoolyear,whenthesongwasfinished,Vanessaturnedaround,lookedmedeadintheeye,clappedhertinyhandstwotimesandsaidthewords“Oh,yes!”Iopenedmymouth in aweand for thatmoment Iwas theonewhocouldnot speak.Whenmyheartfinally started beating again, I looked over at the homeroom teacher to find her alsospeechless.Throughmusic,wehadmadeanawesomeconnection.

Severalyearslater,IpassedVanessaonthestreetintown.Istoppedmycarandwavedtosayhello.Shewavedbackwithabigsmileonherfaceandthenclappedherhandstwotimes,mimickingthesongwehadperformedsomanytimesinourmusicclass.Thispreciouslittlegirl,throughherconnectionwithmusic,leftanimpressiononmethatwilllastforever.Everychildhastheabilitytolearnandgrow.Itisuptousaseducatorstodiscoverthewaytoreacheachandeveryoneofourstudents.Weallmustfindeachchild’slight.

~MarkD.Teesdale2009DelawareStateTeacheroftheYear

Musicteacher,grades4-5

FirstYearTales

Thegreatmajorityofmenarebundlesofbeginnings.

~RalphWaldoEmerson

OohLaLa

Youwilldofoolishthings,butdothemwithenthusiasm.~Colette

My principal came bymy room thatmorningwhile I was still hanging a few last-minuteposters on my walls, and the minute she walked in to wish me luck, I felt extremelyunprepared.As shewalkedout ofmy classroom, I looked at the clock and realized that infifteenminutesthefirstclassofmyteachingcareerwasabouttowalkinmydoor.Freakingoutjustalittlebit,I lookeddownatwhatIwaswearingandimmediatelyhatedit.Myoutfitconsistedofaplainwhitetopwithblackpantsandheels.Asapersonwholovesfashion,Ifeltplain,butIfiguredIshouldbeconservativeonthefirstday,sinceIwantedmyhighschoolstudentstotakemeseriously.

IthitmethatIwouldonlybeaboutsixorsevenyearsolder thanthemandIfreakedoutevenmore.IremindedmyselfthatIhadbeenpreparingforweeks;notonlythat,Ihadbeenpreparingforyears.IgraduatedfromTCUwithnotonlymybachelor ’sdegreeinSecondarySocial Studies Education but I also graduated with my master ’s degree in SecondaryEducation. It was time and I was ready. So whyweremy hands shaking andmy foreheaddrenchedinsweat?

Thedaywentbyinablur.Withmyfreshmanclasses,IthinktheywerejustasnervousasIwas.Itwas theirfirstdayinhighschoolandsensingtheirapprehensioneasedmyown.Mysophomores,ontheotherhand,wereallexcitedtoseeeachotherafterthesummerbreakandseemedverycuriousaboutwhothisnewteacherwas.Sincethestudentsallseemedtolikemyactivitieswellenoughthatfirstday,itmadetherestofourtimetogetherenjoyable.

Myentirefirstyearwentbyinablur.Byspringbreak,Iwasreadyforsummer.Myfirstyearofteachingwasexhaustingandconsistedofanumberoftriumphsandsomefailures.IexperiencedhappymomentswithmystudentsandinstanceswhereIwantedtocry.However,Inevercried infrontof them.Iwasdeterminedtostandstronginfrontof thesehighschoolkids.

OnetimeIwantedtocryfromembarrassmentbecauseofavideoIhadshowninclass.Ithadbeenoneofthosemornings,andIneededsomethingformyfirstandfifthperiodWorldGeography students to keep them at the same pace asmy other classes.Wewere studyingWesternEuropeandIhadtraveledtoParisafewsummersbefore,soIwentintoourschoollibrary’svideo closet and checkedout aGlobeTrekker episodeonParis.As Iwatched thevideo,Icomposedquestionsfor thestudents toanswer.Thestudentswatchedtheportionofthe video that I had planned, and answered the questions I had prepared, but I had

miscalculatedandwestillhadfifteenminutesleftinclass.IfiguredIwouldjustletthemkeepwatchingthevideo.

ItwasaGlobeTrekkerepisodeforgoodnesssake—howbadcoulditbe?Well…itturnedouttobealittleinappropriatewhentheguideinthevideovisitedtheMoulinRouge.IbegantofeeluneasybutI remindedmyself thatGlobeTrekkerepisodesaironnetworktelevisionand teachers across the country use the videos in their Geography classes. Nevertheless, Imovedalittlecloser to thecomputer…just incase.Sureenough,foragoodthreesecondstherewasashotofatoplessMoulinRougedancer.Iswearitwasthelongestthreesecondsofmylife.

Itwasoneofthosemomentswhenyourbraingoesfasterthanyourbody.IknewIneededtoturnoffthevideoandturnitofffast,butmyhandsfumbledassomeofthestudents,mostlyboys,laughedandtoldmetoleaveiton.ItwasagoodthingtheroomwasdarkortheywouldhaveseenmyfaceturnasredastheskirtontheMoulinRougedancer!

Ithoughtforsurethiswasgoingtobetheendofmyteachingcareer.ThereIwas,anewteacher,andmystudentssawatoplessgirldancingonabigscreen!Yes,abigscreen.Myfirstyeartookplacepre-SmartBoardwhenIhookedmypersonallaptopuptoaprojectortoplayvideos.

For the rest of the day, I had studentswalking intomy classroom saying things like “Iheardwegettowatchacoolvideotoday,Ms.Townsend,”and“Ican’twaittoseethisvideoIhave been hearing about all day!” I could not stop thinking about what had happened,replayingtheclassperiodoverandoverinmymind.Ofcourse,Ididnotshowthatvideotherestof thedaydespite thecomplaints that firstperiodwasable to see it and the restofmyclasseswerenot.IthoughtIwouldneverrecoverfromtheembarrassment.

Lookingbackonthatday,Ilaughaboutit.Ilearnedmylesson.Inolongershowavideoinmy classroom that I have not watched all the way through. I told few people at the timebecause I was so embarrassed and afraid for my job! The teachers I did share this withthought it was hilarious and recounted their own classroommistakes and the lessons theylearned.NowIcanfilethisawayasavaluablelessontosharewithnewteachers.

~AdrienneTownsend

MyMia

Thedreambeginswithateacherwhobelievesinyou,whotugsandpushesandleadsyoutothenextplateau,sometimespokingyouwithasharpstickcalled“truth.”

~DanRather

Asabeginningteacher,Iwasfacedwithalotofchallenges,buttheonethatgrabbedmostofmytimewasaboutfortyinchestallwithherheaddown,chinagainstherchest,lookingoutattheworldfromthetopsofhereyeswithascowlonherfaceandfistsballedup.Shewasreadytotakeonanyandallcomers.Tobeatall,shewasrepeatingthirdgrade.

Iquicklylearnedonechildhadthepowertodisruptanddestroymyclassroom,andworse,shehadthepowertoderailmycareerevenbeforeitgotstarted!IreallywantedtoknowwhatmadeherticksoIaskedaroundandheardsomeincrediblestoriesaboutthe“littletornado”wholeftdestructioninherwake.Abouttheonlypositiveinformationcamefromthereadingspecialist,whoinsistedshecouldlearn.

Inowhadanidea.Icontactedherfatherandproposedkeepinghisdaughterafterschoolfor tutoring. To say he was disillusioned and fed up with the school system was anunderstatement.Areviewofhercumulativefileprettymuchexplainedhisattitude;hegavemeadeadlineofNovembertomakeprogresswithMia.

The first day I kept her, we talked about how she felt about school. Mia had had verynegativeexperiences in schooland it coloredheroutlookonalmosteverythingelse inherlife.WhenIdrewheroutaboutthingssheenjoyed,Igotsomewhere.ShelikedtoshopandshelovedDairyQueenBlizzards.NowthatIhadacarrot, itwastimetosetgoals.Iamnotashamed to admit I used good old-fashioned bribery, but theway I looked at it, it was aninvestment.Myplanwentbeyondacademicsbecausethischildhadthesocialskillsofastreetthug.On the long listwere commoncourtesy, tablemanners, and learninghow to respondrespectfullyinunfamiliarsituations.

Initially,Iabsolutelyhadtonegotiatethebumpyhighwayofherbehaviorbecauseitwasahuge barrier to academic success. There was no end goal. Rather, I kept tacking on asuccessionofstepsthatwouldleadMiatobecomingacooperativememberofmyclass.

Asshemasteredeachincrementalgoal,wecelebratedatDairyQueen.Sometimesitwentwell. Sometimes I cried myself to sleep. But I refused to give up on her—or myself. ByNovember,I’dbuiltafirmfoundationwithMiaandourrelationshipbegantoflourish.Mia’sfathersawanunbelievablechangeinhischild.

Asafirstyear teacher, livingonmyownandputting in longhours,cookingwasnotanoption.AtleasttwiceaweekIwouldeatatK&WCafeteria,whereIstruckupaconversationwithMs.Bea,whoservedthesidedishes.Shecalledme“Sugar”andaskedaboutmydayasshedishedmymashedpotatoes.Onefrustratingday,ItoldheraboutMia—theMiawhodidnotvalueschool,whodisruptedclass,whohatedeverythingandeverybody.Ms.Bea,awisewoman,advisedmetobringMiaintoseeherduringthedinnerrush.

WearrivedatK&Wthenexteveningandneartheendoftheservingline,weencounteredMs.Bea,wholookedatMia,andsaid,“Helpyou?”

Miaspatoutherorder.Ms.Beasaid,“No,Iheardaboutyou.Iheardalotaboutyou.Doyouwanttobemeoneday?”

Miawasstunned.“Uh,no.”“Thenyouneedtostartdoinginschoolwhatyou’resupposedtodobecausepeoplelike

meneverhadthatchance.Sodon’twasteit.”WiththatsheservedupMia’svegetablesandIgaveMs.Beaasecretwink.ItwasthefirsttimethatIeversawMiaspeechless.

Ourdinnerconversationwentwellbeyondmannersthatnight.Ineverwantedhertoforgetthe wisdom ofMs. Bea, butMia wasn’t the only one who learned something that night. IlearnedthetruthbehindtheAfricanproverb“Ittakesavillagetoraiseachild.”Fromthenon,wheneverMianeededaboosterdose,wehadacodeterm—“Ms.Bea.”

Theendofthirdgradewasremarkablefortwothings.IhadsurvivedbothmyrookieyearandMia.Furthermore,shehadpassedtwoofherstandardizedtestswithflyingcolorsandshewasclose to readingongrade level. Iassisted inselectingher fourthgrade teacherandwehadanagreementforMiatocontinuebeingmentored.

By fifth grade, Mia had it together academically and our time together focused onmonitoringandmaintainingprogresswhileattendinghockeygames,eatingoutandshopping.Her social skillshad improveddramaticallyandherability todealwithpeople shedidnotlikewasbecomingmoreconsistent.Andthatwaswhenthebigchangeoccurred.

NotonlywouldMiabemovingtomiddleschool,butsowasI.BothofuswouldfacenewchallengesandIknewthatdealingwithnewkidsfromfourotherschoolswasgoingtotestMia’s patience.Would shemaintain the determination to continue her academic growth orwouldherangerkickinandcausehertofallinwithacrowdthatwouldallowhertofollowthepathofleastresistance?

Onceagain,Itinkeredwithherscheduleandalignedherwithteacherswhowerewillingtoreinforcethepositivegrowth.ShetransitionedextremelywellandIfeltconfidentthatseventhgradewouldbeanothersuccessstory.

During seventh grade, Mia’s family moved and I lost touch with her until a chanceencounterwithahighschoolteacherwho’dheardallaboutmefromMia.ThelessonslearnedhadservedMiawell.She’llbeservingasaco-opinhersenioryear,andisontracktoenternursing school after graduation. I’m thinking we need to celebrate where it began—withgreenbeansandmashedpotatoesandMs.Bea.

~StephanieDoyle2009VirginiaStateTeacheroftheYear

Historyteacher,grade6

WhoWouldIDoWithout?

Childrenareonethirdofourpopulationandallofourfuture.~SelectPanelforthePromotionofChildHealth,1981

Ithadbeenabusysummer,andnowitwasturningintoanevenbusierfall.Theschoolwashummingwith activity as the teachers readied their rooms for the start of classes.As theirprincipal I was energized by their contagious enthusiasm, but I wanted to do more.EverywhereIwentIaskedthesamequestion,“Howareyoudoing?”AndeverywhereIwentIreceivedthesameanswer:“Justfine.”

TherewasonlyonepersonwhoIdidn’tquitebelieve.Itwasherfirstyearofteaching,butthathadnothingtodowithmydoubts.Herroomwasinviting.Sheseemedwell-prepared.Ontheoutsideeverythingseemedjustfine,buttherewassomethinginhereyesthatmademeaskthatquestionagainandagain.

ThencameWednesday.“Howareyoudoing?”Iasked.“Mr.Boyce,IthinkI’mgoingtomakeit,”shesaid.Itwaslunchtimeandtheworkroomwasfullofteachersandnoise,butthevoicesbecame

quietastheyoungteachercontinued.“Mondaynight,afterouropenhouse,Ijustdidn’tthinkIcoulddoit.Thereweresomany

parents and children, and I felt so overwhelmed that I drove to seemy folks. I told them Ididn’tthinkIcoulddoit,andtheysaidIhadtotry.

“Thenextmorningschoolstarted.IthoughtIwasready,butthereweresomanyofthemandtheirneedsweresodifferent.Ijustdidn’tknowhowIcouldmanage.Idrovebacktomyparents,andwetalkedforalongtime.

“I told them if I justhad fewerkids I thought I couldhandle it.So theyaskedmewhichchildrenIwouldgetridof.Andyouknow,Mr.Boyce,Icouldn’tdecide.I’donlyhadthemforoneday,butIcouldn’tthinkofasinglechildIcoulddowithout.

“They’remine,Mr.Boyce.Ican’tdowithoutanyofthem.Idon’tknowhow,butI’mjustgoingtodothebestIcanandIreallythinkI’mgoingtomakeit.”

Therewasn’tadryeyeintheroomwhenIreplied,“Ithinkyouare,too.”

~RichardsM.BoyceastoldtoSuzanneM.Boyce

FirstYearDrama

Mistakesaretheusualbridgebetweeninexperienceandwisdom.~PhyllisTheroux,NightLights

Myteachingcareerlastednineteengloriousyears—actuallyeighteengloriousyearsandoneyearofstupidmistakes.Itallstartedwithmesittingintheprincipal’soffice,desperateforajob.

“You teach English, Robbie?” He was a short, stocky man with kind eyes, but wasobviouslytired.

“English iswhat Iwant to teach. I haveaneducationdegreewithminors inEnglish andspeech.”

Hemadelittlenoises,asifheweretryingtokeephimselfawakeashereadmyapplicationandrésumé.Myeyesskimmedhisofficelookingforadistractiontothewarzoneofnervesinsidemybrain.

“IsthatFamilyFeud?”Aframedpictureoffivemenlinedupatthegameshowhungonhiswall.“Yes,mybrothersandIwereontheshow.”“Didyouwin?”“No,butwehadagreattime.”My nerves retreated behind friendly lines, and I began talking about TV. Soonwewere

laughinglikeoldfriends.“Youknowwhat,Robbie?We’realsolookingforadramateacher.Iseethatoneofyour

minorswasinspeech.Dramaandspeecharereallysimilar,right?WouldyoubeinterestedinteachingdramaaswellasEnglish?”

I’dnevertakenadramaclassinmylife,butIsmelledemployment.Ihad threeclasses thatyear.First,anEnglishclassmadeupof twenty-seven juniorsand

seniors,mostlyboys,who’dfailedEnglishatleastonce.AndafterlunchItaughtabeginningdramaclassandthenadvanceddrama.

IenteredmyfirstEnglishclassdeterminedtobeSidneyPoitierinToSir,withLove.Iwasgoing to take my downtrodden ghetto rebels and turn them into citizens with hearts anddreams.

Contrarytotheplan,mystudentsweresuburbanandaffluent.MostofthemownedeitheraPorscheoraBMW.ButstillIhadamission.Firstbattle:towinthemover.Easy.Iwoulduseoneofmygreatestassets.Iwouldsmileandinspirethem.

IwalkedintoRoom219andsmiledwidely.WithaWestTexanaccent,mysweet-as-pecan-

pieselfdrawled,“Hi,ya’ll.MynameisMissFloydandwe’regoingtohavesomuchfun.”Swift,knowingglanceswereexchangedbetweenclassmatesandmyfatewassealedwithin

thefirsttenminutes.ThatyearinRoom219wasbumpy.Ididn’tknowhowtodiscipline.Theydidn’tknowhow

to behave. Occasionally, one of the worst of the lot, David, would somehow get into theclassroomandsetourclockaheadtenminutes.Ilivedanddiedbythatclock,sowhenitsaidtime for class to end, I trusted it.More than once, I let the class out to roam the groundsbeforelunch.

InmyattempttobuildacurriculumforthesestudentswhohadfailedEnglishinthepast,Idecidedtoteachaunitonlivinglifeintherealworld.ThishadabsolutelynothingtodowithEnglish,butIwaschangingtheirlives,notjustmakingsuretheyknewgrammar.Inthatunit,Idecided that Iwould teachsaladmaking.WhenPoitierdid this inToSir,withLove itwasagreat success. But my galloping gourmet lecture in 219 didn’t go so well. The studentsthoughtIwasjoking.Makeasalad?YouwanttoteachusCaliforniarichkidshowtomakeasalad?Mylessononlylastedfifteenminutes.

“Um,okayeverybody.Studyhall.”Thiswasmyanswer toanyclass thatwentshort. Itwasalsomyanswer toanyclass for

whichIwasn’tprepared.Oneday,I’dplannedtostart readingabook.ButwhenIarrivedoncampus,I foundthat

copiesofthebookhadn’tarrivedyet.Studyhall.IguessImighthaveearnedacoupleofextrapointsifI’dactuallymadesuretheystudied.

Buttheyweren’tthestudyingkind.Infact,notstudyinghadlandedtheminmyclasstobeginwith,soIletthemsitaroundandtalk.

We were having study hall when a woman I’ll call Mrs. Pritchett, the curriculumdevelopmentdirector,walkedinandsatdown.

“CanIhelpyou,Mrs.Pritchett?”“Doyouhavelessonplans?”Herrequestcamethroughhernose.Herlipsbarelymoved.“Sure.”Ifoundthemforher.“Butthebooksdidn’tcomein.”“Sowhatareyoudoing?”Iwonderedifithurtwhenshespoke.“I’llobservefromhere.”Iwas placed on scholastic probation after that. The good newswas that they assigned a

mentortomewhoactuallygavemeideasforcurriculum.ThebadnewswasthatI’dalreadyestablishedmyselfasatoo-lenientteacherwhoreallydidn’tknowalotaboutteaching.

Dramawasdifficult,butgotbetterwithtime.Iboughtabookonhowtoteachit,whichIkeptwithmealways.IfakeditwhenIcouldandaskedforhelpwhenIreallyneededit.I’mhappytosayourfirstplaywasabighit.AfterIhadoneundermybelt,Ifellintoarhythmofjoyandworkandrelief.Wewouldstayafterclass for rehearsals,andwenaturallybecamequiteclose.

They called me Mom (even though I was only twenty-six), and we laughed abouteverything. Unfortunately, my inexperience got the better of me again. The rules aboutstudent/teacher relationships hadbeen laid out tome clearly.But I began spending a lot oftimewiththekidsoutsideofschoolandevenwenttoamovie—whichwasstrictlyforbidden

—withtwoseniorboysfrommyadvanceddramaclass.Iendeduponprobationforthesecondtimethatyear.Evenso,myprincipalofferedmethe

dramapositionagainforthefollowingyear,butonlyifI’dalsoteachmusic.What?Music?I declined and left the school. Later, I’d see him almost yearly at countywide school

functions.“HeyDebbie,”he’dalwayssay.“Howyoudoing?”Inevercorrectedhim.Itcomfortedmetothinkthatthatawfulfirst-yearteacherwasnamed

DebbieandnotRobbie.Fourteenyearsaftermyfirstyearasateacher,sweetpoeticjusticewithasplashofirony

visitedme.Duringteacherorientation,oneoftherookieteacherscameuptome.Hewastallandinhisearlythirties.

“Hello. I don’t know if you rememberme, butmyname isDavid. I think I oweyou anapology.”

Atfirst,Ididn’trecognizehim,butasheexplained,abellwentoff.DavidhadbeenoneofmyEnglish students that firstyear. Indeed,hewas the ringleader

behindtheclockre-setting.“David,it’sokay.Imadesomanymistakesthatyear.I learnedthehardway.Soyou’rea

teacher?Howlong?”“Thisismyfirstyear.”ItwasawonderfulmomentandIlaughedoutloud.“OhDavid,Godisgoingtogetyoubackbigtime.”

~RobbieIobst

WhateverWorks

Goodinstinctsusuallytellyouwhattodolongbeforeyourheadhasfigureditout.

~MichaelBurke

“BillyWagner ’sfatherwillbehereat10AM.Hewishestospeakwithyou,”thenoteinmyteacher ’sboxread.I felt thecolordrainingfrommyfaceandtried tokeepmyhandsfromshaking.IknewIwasintrouble.

IwasthrilledwhenIlandedateachingpositioninmynewhometown’shighschool.TheschooldistricthadareputationofhiringonlyexperiencedteachersandIwasjustbeginningmycareer.Anexceptionhadbeenmadeinmycasebecausethiswasapilotprogramandeventheprincipaldidn’tknowifitwouldwork.(Experiencedteachersprobablyknewtogetmoredetailsabouttheplanandturnedthepositiondown.)

Atthetime,MillardHighSchoolincludedthesevenththroughtwelfthgrades.Eachofthefourelementaryschoolsthatfedintoithadgraduatingsixthgraderswho,foronereasonoranother, would need amore sheltered environment to progress in such a large institution.Eager to teach so close to home and for such a fine school, I oozed confidence andenthusiasmfortheopportunitytobeapartofthispilotprogram,evenifIhadnoclueabouthowtorunit.

WhenIreceivedmyclassrostersIwasdelighted—theenrollmentswereextremelysmall.Mylargestclasshadthirteenpupils.Thiswasanunbelievablenumberforapublicschool.ItshouldhavetippedmeoffthatmytaskwouldnotbeassimpleasIimagined.Iassumedmystudentswouldbebehindintheirskillsandalittleremediationdeliveredwithlargedosesofencouragement would solve their problems. Five minutes into the first day of school, Irealizedthingswerealotmorecomplicated.

Allofthestudentswereinmyroomformorethanonesubjectandoperatingatdifferentlevelsbecauseofdifferenthandicaps.Forsomeitwasintellect,forotherstheproblemswereemotional. Two were new to the country and needed to learn English. Some were latebloomers,whowithalittlemorematuritywouldeventuallycatchupwiththeirpeers.

And then there was Billy. Skinny, sensitive Billy. Billy the outsider. Unlike others whoknewat leastsomeoneelseintheroomfromtheirelementaryschooldays,Billydidn’t.Hewaseasilyupsetandcrieda lot.Hecriedifhehadanswersmarkedwrongonhispaper,hecriedifIcalledonhimandhedidn’twanttoanswer,hecriedifclassmatestriedtojokewithhim.Iwasembarrassedtoseeatwelve-year-oldboycryinglikethat.Ididn’tknowwhattodo,soIlefthimtoit.

TherewasnowayIcouldteachalock-steplessonwiththisgroup.Theirabilitylevelsweretoo diverse.We did some things together, but I had to give a lot of time to individualizedinstruction.Itried,withfingerscrossed,tohavemeaningfulassignmentsfortheotherstodowhileIworkedwithasinglestudent.Thisdidn’talwaysmakeforaquiet,orderlyclassroom.Free-wheelingandchaoticwouldbeamoreaccuratedescription.

Strange things happened.While IwasworkingwithSally,Kanzo,who entered the classknowingonlythealphabetandhowtocounttoonehundredinEnglish,wassomehowabletohelpDannywithhismath.Dannyhadnotroubleunderstandinghim.Mickey,SteveandBobbybegangroupingtogethertodotheirwork.Somemightcallitcheating;Ipreferredtoseeitascollaborating.

Inspiteofmyconstantfearthatatanymomenttheprincipalmightcomeintomyroomtocomplainaboutthenoiseandbehorrifiedbymylackofcontrol,thingsbegantosettledown.Itwasstillnoisyandabittoosocial,butWally,thewithdrawnone,hadbeguntointeractwithSally,whosatinfrontofhim.Itwasastart,evenifitwasonlywithoneotherperson.Helgenow spoke in full English sentences, if you ignored the mangled syntax. Mickey’scompositions had stretched from one paragraph to a full page, even if the spelling andpunctuation remained abysmal.Mess-producingMyra was finally picking up after herself,andBillyhadstoppedcrying.

Small victories.Wherewas the accelerated academic growth?Whenwas I going to setstricter standards and get these youngsters up to grade level? When was I going to takecontrolandhavethemactinglikehighschoolstudents?Iwantedto,butIfeltinovermyhead.Ijustdidn’tknowhow.WasitanywonderthatMr.WagnerwantedtotalktomeabouthissonBilly’sprogress?Howlongbeforeamobofparentsappeared,demandingtoknowwhatwasgoingoninmyclassroom?

Teno’clockwasthestartofmystudent-freeperiod.Irushedtothefacultyladies’roomafewminutesbefore,sicktomystomachwithdread.Isplashedwateronmyface,appliedfreshlipstickandtriedtosmileabravesmileintothemirror.Ineededtimetocalmdown,butthemeetingwithMr.Wagnercouldn’tbeputoff.Ihopedhe’dbelate.

I found him already inmy room, seated behind a student desk too small for his stockybuild.Igreetedhimcheerfullyandweshookhands.Islidintotheseatnexttohimandsteeledmyselfforwhatwastocome.

“Iwon’t taketoomuchofyourtime,”hesaid,“butIwantedyoutoknowhowmuchmywife and I appreciatewhat youhavedone for our son.Billyhas absolutelyblossomed thisyear.Doyouknowheusedtocryandhavestomachacheswhenhehadtogotoschool?Ifweaskedhimabouthisschoolday,he’dclamuponus.Nowallhetalksaboutisschool!Idon’tknowhowyoudidit,butoursonisahappyboyagain.MywifeandIaresograteful;Ihadtocome here to thank you personally.” He stood up and straightened his suit coat. “Now I’dbettergetbacktomyofficesowecanbothgetsomeworkdone,”hesaid.

I remained inmyseat, stunned.Hedidn’tknowhow Idid it,buthewasgrateful for thechangeinhisson!Ididn’tknowhowIdiditeither,butMr.Wagner ’scommentsgavemetheconfidencetocontinuewithmyclassesthewaytheywere.IstoppedthinkingIneededtogettough,bestrictandconcentratesolelyon theacademics.Billyandhis fatherhad taughtme

that my free-wheeling classroom, born of my inexperience, was giving a troubled youngadolescent room to gain the self-confidence he needed to be able to concentrate onschoolwork.I learnedfromBilly that there ismore toastudent thantheamountofEnglishonecanstuffintohishead.

Overtheyears,IencounteredotherstudentswhomademerealizewhyIbecameateacher,butBillyWagnerwasthefirst,andtheoneforwhomIammostgrateful.WhenBillywentontocollege,Ifeltassuccessfulashedid.

~MarciaRudoff

MyChristmasLesson

Christmasisnotasmuchaboutopeningourpresentsasopeningourhearts.~JaniceMaeditere

It was the last day before Christmas vacation and the last day of my student teachingassignment. I’d spent three months with a wonderful mentor and a great group of fifth-graders.Walking through the door I knew this day was both an end and a beginning. Nolongerastudentteacher,Iwouldbecomeateacherinmyownright.ButthiswouldbemylastdaywiththesechildrenIalreadyconsidered“mine.”Itwentbysoquickly,andIwasn’treadytoleavethembehind.

Iwouldhavelessthananhourbeforemyclassrushedoffforlunch.Theafternoonwassetaside for the Christmas party. I wantedmy final lesson to resonate within the children, tolingerintheirmindsandinspirethem.I’dstruggledfordayspreparingit,honingeachwordwithsurgicalprecisionuntilitwasperfect.

Teachersaresupposedtotouchyounglivesandchangethemforthebetter;atleastthatwasmy philosophy. I wanted tomake a difference not only in the children today, but one thatwould continue on and revive my hometown. Once a thriving community, it sufferedeconomiccollapsewhen themillsclosedmore than twentyyearsago.No longercalled theSteelValley,theareawasnowknownastheRustBelt.

Manyfamiliesmovedaway,ashadmine.But Icamebackhome tocompletemystudentteachingassignment,hoping toshowthisnewgeneration thevalueofeducation.More thanhalf thechildrencame from familieswhere collegewas the exception.For generations thegraduating class went straight from commencement into the mill. The median incomeplummetedwhenitshutdown,andpovertyhadbecomeawayoflife.IknewIcouldmakeadifference.Mylesson,thelastbeforeChristmasvacation,wouldbeimpossibletoforget.

Iwasalmosttomyclassroomwhenanotherteacheraskedmetostaywithherclassforafewminutes.Ismiledandnodded,strugglingtohidemyrisingirritation.Afterall,therewasso little time in the first place.Shemust knowhow important this daywas.My lessonwasplannedout, timedwithabsoluteprecision.Howcould I sacrificeevenaminutewheneachwordwascrucial?Igrumbledasilentprayer,askingGodtohelpmesqueezeitallin.

A few minutes stretched into fifteen before she came back, apologized and rushed meacrossthehall.Iopenedthedoorandtwenty-ninechildrenshouted“Surprise!”

There were new decorations added to the holiday ones from the day before. Over thechalkboardwasabannerwith“Congratulations!”printedacrossit.Everychildhadsignedanddecorated it. Iwassweptup ina tangleofarmsand led toa tableheapedwithgifts.Before

longIcouldbarelyseeovertheholidaytowels,mugs,candles,perfume,candyandjewelry.Awedbytheoutpouringoflove,Itooktimeopeningeachgiftandthankedeachgiver.By

the timeI’dopened the lastgifton the table itwasalmost lunchtime.The roomwasa littlequieternowandIrealizedthatI’dreceivedagiftfromallbutoneofthechildren.ItwassomuchmorethanIcouldeverhaveexpected.

Ilookedaroundtheroom.Mostofthechildrenweregroupedintwosandthrees,talkingandworking on holiday puzzles as theywaited for the bell. Joey sat alone, but thatwasn’tunusual.Hewasonlyintheroomformorningattendanceandlunch,spendingtherestofthedayinaSpecialEducationclass.

I barely knew him, but his ill-fitting clothes and bony framemarked him as one of thepoorestofthepoor.Hehunchedoverapieceofpaper,histinynubofpencilflittingacrossit.Hishanddartedintohispocketandpulledoutacrumpleddollar.Hesmoothedthebill,laiditon the paper and folded the paper into an envelope around it.He ran to the supply basket,dashedbackandsealedthepaperenvelopewithagoldstar.

Thestudentsstoodatthedoor,readyforlunch.Insteadofhisusualplaceatthefrontoftheline, Joey hung back and sidled over towardme when the bell rang. He ducked his head,scuffedhisfootandheldouttheenvelope.

“MerryChristmas!You’rethebestteacherI’veeverhad.”Hischeeksflushedaboveasmilewiderthanseemedpossible.

I seldom findmyselfwith nothing to say, but Iwas speechless. I couldn’t take his onlydollar!Ipausedamomenttoolong,andhissmilebegantofade.Threewordsjumpedintomymind: thewidow’smite.God blessed her small offering, knowing itwas all she had.HowcouldIhurtJoey’sfeelingsbyrefusinghisgift?

“Thankyou,Joey.I’mreallygoingtomissyou.”Iopenedtheenvelope.Inside,sketchedinpencil,wasaChristmastree,withastarontop.

“Thisisbeautiful!Ididn’tknowyouweresuchanartist.”Ituckedthedollarinmypocketandputthepictureontopoftheothercards.Theroomwasempty.Joeywouldbeattheendofthelunchline.

“Wouldyouhavelunchwithme,sincethisismylastday?Wecanbringourtraysuphere.”“YoumeanIcanhaveateacher ’slunch?”Wide-eyed,hegrinnedagain.“Ofcourse.Mytreat.Wecanevenhavepizzaifyouwant.”I tookhimtothebackofthe

kitchen,whereteachersgetadult-sizedmeals.Wewentbacktotheclassroomandheshowedmeanotebookfullofsketches.Mostweretrucks,carsorplanesdrawnwithamazingdetail.

Soontheotherstudentsreturned.Therestofthedaywasspenteatingcookiesandplayinggames.WhenthefinalbellrangIhuggedeachchild.Andasforthatfinal,ohsoimportant,lessonIhadplanned?Inevertaughtit.Ilearnedoneinstead.

~AnnaM.Lowther

TheFlyintheRoom

Therecanneverbeenoughsaidofthevirtues,dangers,thepowerofasharedlaugh.

~FrançoiseSagan

Ihadofficiallyspentonlytwodayspreparingformyfirstdayasateacherinaclassroomofmydesign—liningupdesks,decoratingbulletinboards,planningengagingdiscussionsandselectinglife-changingliterature.Don’tgetmewrong—Ihadbeenpreparingforthismomentfor years, arguablymost ofmy life, but securing a teaching position just two days beforeschoolbegandidn’tgivemeleisurelytimetoreflectontheenormousdecisionsbeforeme.

Ijumpedin,franticallypouringideasintothatfirstweekoflessons,tryingtorememberallI had learned from my college professors, mentors and experiences, first as a teacherassistant and later as a student teacher. I was determined tomake that first week perfect—perfectlymappedoutanddesigned,perfectlypaced,perfectlyorganized.WhileIdidn’tsleepmuch the two nights before the first day, Iwas ready for those high-schoolerswhowouldspend the year in my class, studying American literature, applying larger themes to theirlives, learning from the experiences of the authors we were to study. Well, that’s what Ithoughtanyway.

Theywouldlaterbecomeoneofmymostmemorablegroups,maybepartlybecausetheyweremyfirst,butalsocertainlybecauseoftheirlivelypersonalitiesandwillingnesstoletme,afirstyearteacher,intotheirmindsandlives.Butthatfirstday,Iwasn’tpreparedforhowalloftheirfacesseemedtoruntogether.AsIfacilitatedadiscussionaboutapoemwehadread,Istruggled to remembernames,evenof thosestudentswhoeagerlyparticipated.Thequieterones were even more of a challenge. John, Jana, Jory, Janelle, Julia, Jim, Jada, Jason,Jennifer, Jake, Joey, Jackie, Jared…theyall ran together, tumbledoveroneanother,mixedandblendeduntilIcouldn’tkeepanyofthemstraight.

Byfifthhour,IwasstillrunningonadrenalinebutnearexhaustionwhenJeremylosthispatiencewithmyforgetfulness.Withhishandraised,hemadeeyecontactwithmeandknewrightawaythatIcouldn’trecallhisname,eventhoughIhadspokenitatleastfourtimesthathour.Beingagoodsport,hehelpedmeoutbyjoking:“MynameisJEHOVAH,”heboomedin a sinister voice I will never forget, his warm smile lighting up the row, belying themenacing toneofhis joke. “No really, it’s Jeremy,”he remindedme. “It’sgottabehard torememberallthesenames.”Thatsealedthedeal—IwouldneverforgetJeremy’snameagain,evennow,somefifteenyearslater.

As the discussion flowed into small group work, I wandered through the clusters ofstudents, listening to their ideas bounce from agreement to disagreement to intenseconversation.IwatchedJeremyandhisgrouppointbacktothepoemandthenconnectit totheirownlives.AsIsaton thewindowsillwatching, Iwassecretlycelebratingasuccessfulfirst day—almost perfect.At one point,Kathy andSara rushedover, serious looks in theireyes, pleading, “Canwe seeyou in thehall,Mrs.Haberling?” I glancedat the rest of theirgroup,stillhuddledoverdesks,justintimetoseetheconcernflashovertheirfaces.Thismustbeserious,Ithought.

Thiswasit—themomentIhadbeenpreparingfor.Yousee,Ihadplansearlyinmycollegecareer.Likemosthigh school students at that time, I entered college intenton figuringoutwhatIwantedtodo.Afterdabblinginart,Ifoundmynicheinthefieldofsocialsciencesanddecidedtogetadegreeinpsychology,thengoontobecomeacounselor.Myplanwastohelpadolescents,andin thatdecision,Ihadnoidea thatIwouldreallyfall in lovewith teachingstudents. Herewasmy chance to combinemy two loves—right herewith Kathy and Sara.TheymusthaveaproblemIcouldhelpthemsolve!

As we stepped into the hall, their eyes locked and I could see the concern exchangedbetween them.They turned tome,nervouslyglancing from feet to eyes to feet, andbegan.“Um…”Kathystammered.“Wejustwantedtotellyousomethingkinda…embarrassing.”Wow, I thought, could they have already gotten that far in the discussion that theywere

dealingwithsomereallifeissues?Ididn’texpectsuchdepthonthefirstday,butIwouldlaterlearnthatmuchofthejoyinteachingisnotaboutwhatIexpectorplanfor.

“Uh,wenoticedsomethingthat…well,wethinkyoushouldknow,”Saracontinued,onlymakingeyecontactwithherflipflops.

Kathy’s words tumbled out, and I could suddenly understand why they were souncomfortable.“Mrs.Haberling,yourflyisopenandithasbeenallhour.”

Myeyesmusthavetoldquiteastorythatmomentasthedayreplayedthroughmyhead—thebusynessofthefirstday,nobreakforlunch,notripstothebathroom,nomirrorchecks…ithadprobablybeenlikethatsinceIlefthomethatearlymorning!AsIglancedthroughthewindowtotherestofmyclass,Icouldseethatthenewshadobviouslyspread—everyonewaswatchingtoseehowIwouldrespond.Mycheeksburned.Istruggledtocomposeacoherentresponsebefore Igave inandburstout laughing, relieving thegirls.AsIwalkedback intoclass,Jeremywasthefirsttogreetmewitharoundofapplause.

At times like that, laughter is theonly appropriate response—laughter atmyself andmymistakes. On that first day of school, the one I had prepared for so carefully, I learned alessonthatwouldservemethroughoutmyteachingcareer.It’sbestifthestudentsIspendtheyearwithseemeasafalliblehumanbeing,whosometimesforgetstozip.It’sbestifkidsseememakemistakes and laugh atmyself. It’s best if I listen carefully to themany thingsmystudents teach me, through what they say and what they don’t say. It’s best if my studentssometimesknowmorethanIdo,andit’sbestifIletthemseethatI,too,amstilldiscovering.IwasgladthatJeremy,KathyandSaratookthetimetoteachmealessononthatveryfirstday.Itdidn’tneedtobemyversionofperfecttobewonderful.Withouttheflyintheroom,Imighthave givenmyself toomuch credit for the successes andbeatmyself up too hard over the

stumbles.Instead,threefreshmenremindedmethatwhenallelsefails,Ineedtoremembertolaughatmyself.

~JenniferA.Haberling2009MichiganStateTeacheroftheYear

Englishteacher,grade7

BurgersandCries

Successseemstobelargelyamatterofhangingonafterothershaveletgo.~WilliamFeather

“God,pleasedon’tletanythinghappentodaythatIcan’thandle.”Thiswasmydailyprayerduringmyfirstyearofteaching.Myschoolwasatwenty-five-

minutecommutefromhome,andIspenteveryoneofthoseminutesworryingaboutwhatthenextsixhourswouldbring.

Landingthejobwasahappysurprise.Justoutofcollege,IhadspentasummerstudyinginMexicoandreturnedhomeinlateAugust,certainI’dmissedmychanceoffindingateachingposition.ThenIlearnedofanopeningforafifthgradeteacheratalocalSpanishimmersionschool.Thedayafterarrivinghome,Iinterviewed.ThenextdayIsignedacontract.Andfourdayslater,schoolstarted.

Whileotherteachershadspentweeksplanningandpreparing,Ihadonlyafewdays.Itwasatoughwaytostart,andthingsdidn’tgetanyeasier.Someofthekidsinmyroomhadrealproblems.One girl had beenmolested by hermother ’s boyfriend.A boy had just finishedtreatmentforHodgkin’sdisease.Anothergirllivedaboveabar.Onenight,shetoldme,therehadbeenshootinginthestreetbelowandthefamilyallgotdownonthefloortoavoidbeinghitbyastraybullet.

And then there wasmy “girl gang,” a clique of three feisty ten-year-olds. Jasmine, thesharp-tongued leader, brimmedwith attitude.BurlyLonette carried a chip on her shoulder,evidencedinthefistfightsshestartedontheplayground.AndLakeishawasamasterattheartof smackingher lips and rollingher eyes towardheavenwhen I said something shedidn’tlike.

Eventhoughsomeofmystudentscamefromstablehomes, theoneswhodidn’taffectedthe whole class. Most of all, they affected me. I didn’t know how to handle the blatantdisrespect, the trash talk, or the “he said-she said” conflicts that took hours to unravel. Itseemedlikethesekidsneededasocialworker—oratleastateacherwithmoremettlethanI.IndesperationIclampeddown,handingoutconsequencesforevenminorinfractions.Butitdidn’thelp;actinglikeadrillsergeantjustfosteredresentment.IfeltlikeIwasfailing.

Moralefellandtensiongrew;Isoonhatedgoingtowork,justasmanyofthekidsseemedtohatebeingatschool.Myprayersbecamemorefervent:Helpme.Showmewhattodo.Ifeellikequitting.ThenGodgavemeanidea.TherewasaBurgerKingacrossthestreetfromtheschool.WhatifItookmystudentsouttoeat?Maybethatwouldbuildthetrustandgoodwillthatourclassroomlacked.

SothenextdayImadeanannouncement.“EveryFridayfromnowon,I’mgoingtotakeonestudenttolunchatBurgerKing.”“Great,”someonemuttered,“I’llbetsheonlychoosesthegoodkids.”Ignoringthecomment,Isaid,“Everyweek,I’llrandomlydrawaname.Bytheendofthe

year,everyonewillhavehadaturn.”StudentssatupwithinterestasIpickedthefirstname.Igotthefeelingthatmanyofthem

didn’tgoouttoeatveryoften—eventoafastfoodplace.Maybethiswasagoodidea.Afterthefirstouting,Iwassureofit.Ifnothingelse,ithadbeenfun,andeveryone—meincluded—neededsomefuninlife.

Themonthswenton.EveryFriday,thechosenstudentandIchattedoverhamburgers,fries,andCokes.Sometimes,thestudentwasonewhohadbeenparticularlydifficultthatweek,butthatdidn’tmatter.Ineverdiscussedbehaviorduringthoselunches,choosinginsteadtofocusonfamily,hobbies,andfriends.

Perhaps the studentwhose turn Imost dreadedwas Jasmine’s. I hadmade some inroadswith theothermembersof the “gang,”but notwithher.She scowled atmewhen I smiled,madesnidecommentsunderherbreath,andonce,whenIorderedhertothedetentionroom,deliveredaspeechsovenomousthataftersheleftIputmyheaddownonmydeskandsobbed.Shereallyseemedtohateme,totheextentthatwhenhernamewaschosen,Iwonderedifshewouldrefusetogo.

Shedidn’t.ThatFriday,thetwoofuswalkedacrossthestreettogether,orderedourmeals,andhadapleasantconversation.Itwasasif,forthathalfhour,shehadcalledatruce.

I wish I could say things changedwith her after that, but they didn’t. In fact, notmuchchangedwithmanyofmystudents.Iwastooyoung,toogreen,andtoounsureofmyselftodoallthegoodImeantto.Butatthesametime,I’mgladforwhatIdiddo.MaybethattriptoBurgerKingmeantsomethingtothekidwhosemomyelledathimthatmorning,orthekidwhousuallyatealone,orthekidwhosefamilycouldn’taffordtobuyhimatwo-dollarkid’smeal.Ihopeitdid.Lookingbacknow,eighteenyearslater,I’mpleasedthatItried.

~SaraMatson

TeachingfromCourage

Youblockyourdreamwhenyouallowyourfeartogrowbiggerthanyourfaith.

~MaryManinMorrissey

Sixteenkindergartenstudentsscamperedinataquarterpasteight.Theirlittleeyesstaredupatme.“Substituteteacher,”Iheardthemwhisper.

Aftertheirlittlebackpackswereneatlyputaway,theystarteddoingsomethingthatwasn’tinthesubstituteplan.Theyopenedtheirfoldersandbeganrecitingtheirspelling.Mothersandfathersweresittingat theshort tables,helping theirchildren learn their spelling lists,andIfeltlikeanoutsider,whichIwas.

Suddenly,itwasfivetonineanditwastimetogatheronthecarpet.Buttheparentsdidn’tmove and the kids remained at their desks, their lips moving quietly. Big heads and littleheads,focusedonasmallpieceofpaperthatwasobstructingtheflowofmyday.

I was only a novice teacher then, and I didn’t really understand the concept of beingflexible.AllIknewwasthatIhadtofollowthedailyplan.ThenIlookedacrosstotheotherclassroom(wewereinasharedspace),andIsawthattheteachernextdoorwasalreadytakingattendance.Iwassupposedtobedoingthattoo.

SuddenlyIwascompelled tohave thewholeclasson thecarpet; Ineeded theminaneatsmallsquarewhereIcouldseethem.Yearslater,Ilearnedthatgatheringthechildrenonthefloorwasagreatwaytocontroltheclassroomwheneverythingwasoutofcontrol—gatherandfocus.Thedifferencewas,thisclasswasn’toutofcontrol;anditjustfeltthatwaytome.

Afterfivelongminutes,Ihadmostofthechildrensittingquietlyonthecarpet.Exceptone.Amotherwithscragglybrownhairwasstillworkingwithherdaughter.I approached the wooden table, very aware that the rest of the kids were sitting down

waitingforme,feelingthatatanymoment theywouldstartscramblingaroundlookingforthingstodo.Withaburningface,Ispoketothewoman.

“Shehastogo.I’msorry,”Isaidasmyfaceflushedredagain.Iwasupsetthattheywereaffectingmyprogress.

“She has to finish her spelling,” said the woman, with her hand on the child’s greenspellingbook.

“WellI’msorry,butIwasinstructedtohaveherontheflooratthistime,”Isaid,feelingapologeticandupsetatthesametime.

The child stopped practicing her spelling and looked up at me, her eyesmirroring theaccusationinhermother ’seyes.

Unsure,Ifinallytoldthemothertocontinue.Ifeltmyauthorityvanish.Ifeltunsettled.“It’s too latenow,” themotherdeclared.“You’veupsetherandshedoesn’twant to spell

anymore.”Iwasscared.Herlipsweredownturnedandhertiredeyesdartedaccusationsatme.IfeltlikeIfailed.Ididn’twanttoupsether,butsomehowIdid.

Shewalkedout theglassdoubledoors, thesunilluminatingheroutlineasshe left. Iwasleftwithherdaughter.Partofmewantedtogoafterher,persuadeherthatIdidtherightthing.Iwantedtoshowhertheplan,see…theplanprovesmeright.

InsteadIsaid,“GoandsitdownStephanie.”Ihalfexpectedhertorefuse.Luckilyshewentcalmlytojointheotherkids.

Thedaywentbyquickly.Reading,writing,lunch,mathandrecessescameandwent…butIfeltuneasy.

I spent the day treating her daughter like china. “Stephanie, how are you feeling?” or“Stephanie,whatwouldyouliketodonow?”OfcoursethegirllovedtheextraattentionthatIwasgivingher.

Asitapproachedthreeo’clock,IkeptthinkingabouthowafraidIwasofdoingthewrongthing.Iwasafraidofnotfollowingtheplansproperly,IwasafraidthatIwasgoingtolookbadinfrontoftheotherteacher.NowIwasafraidthatImighthaveupsetaparent.

Finally,Irealizedthatbeingscaredwasn’thelpingme,andIdecidedtoaskmyselfwhatIwouldIdoifIwasn’tafraid.Theanswercametomeinstantly.

Thatafternoon,as Iwasbidding thechildrengoodbye, I approachedStephanie’smotherwithmyheartpoundingagain.

“Mrs.Cosmos,Iwouldliketospeaktoyou,”Isaidlookingherstraightintheeye.HerfacewasstiffandshehadherhandsonStephanie’sshoulders.“I’msorryforwhathappened thismorning,” Isaid,myfaceflushedagain,but this time

withrelief.“Iknowthatallyouwant is thebest foryourchild,andIshouldhave listened to that,” I

said,andIrealizedthatIbelievedwhatIwassaying.In that moment, the woman in front of me transformed, her shoulders sagged and she

lookedatmeearnestly.“YouhavenoideawhatIhavetogothrough.IhavesixchildrenandItrysohardtocome

inandhelp.”Suddenly,itallmadesense:thedesperateneedtofinishherdaughter ’sspelling,theabruptchangeofhermoodwhenIaskedhertostop.Asamother,sheworkedsohardtobe there with her daughter each morning, and although it strained her to do it, she did itanyway.

“I’msorry,”shecontinued.“Iknowitmustbehardifyoudon’tknowtheschoolandiftheinstructionsaren’tcomplete.”

Istoppedbreathing,becauseinlessthanaminutethismotherwastellingmeherproblemswhenbeforeshecouldhardlytalktome.

I realized that teachingwas not just about getting the lesson plan right, but itwas aboutmakingadifferencetothepeopleIwouldbeworkingwith,andthatincludedboththestudentsandtheparents.

Mostimportantly,Irealizedthatifmyteachingwasguidedbymyfear,Iwouldalsoimpart

asenseoffeartomystudents.OnceIrealizedthat,Isuddenlysawthechildrenandparentsforwhat theywere: humanbeings,with hopes, dreams andhearts thatwanted to achievemanythingsintheirlives.Likeeveryhuman,Irecognizedthattheymighthavefearsoftheirown…justasthatmotherdid.SoImadeachoicethatday.Ichosetostoplisteningtomyfear,andtoteach with courage and love. And by making that choice, I had the privilege to make adifferencetothesepreciouspeople,simplybybeingateacher.

Sothesedays,theclassesIteachusuallygoasplanned,butwhentheydon’t,Iunderstandthatit’sstillokay.

~QuyenThai

LearningfromtheKids

Iamlearningallthetime.Thetombstonewillbemydiploma.

~EarthaKitt

ToolsoftheTrade

Wordscansometimes,inmomentsofgrace,attainthequalityofdeeds.~ElieWiesel

TherearedayswhenI find itnecessary tostepoutsidemyclassroomandcheck tobesurethatmy name is still in the TEACHER space overmy door. Sometimes I feel that I am astudentinmyclassroomratherthantheteacher.

Mysixthgradestudentswereseatedinalargecircleonthefloorofourclassroom.Eachstudent held a different tool in his or her hand. Some were common tools—a hammer, awrench, a flashlight, a screwdriver—and others were unfamiliar tools to the students—acopperpipecutter,anawl,achalkline.Thelessonhadgoneperfectly.Thestudentsdiscussedhowwordsare like tools—theyhave theability tobuildor todestroy, and theydiscoveredhow the right toolusedat the right time for the right jobcanyieldgreat results.The sixthgradersfreelysharedpersonalstoriesofhowtheyhadexperiencedsomeone’swordsusedasatool,towoundortoheal,andsomeevenbravelysharedhowtheyhadpersonallyusedtheirwordsattimesastoolstohurtortohelpothers.

Iwatched and listenedwith a senseof satisfaction—the studentswere engaged, attentive,andenjoyingthelesson.Theygotit!ItwasoneofthosetimeswhenIsatbackandreveledinthe magic of being a teacher—to have the opportunity to watch young people discover agreatertruthaboutlife,abouteachother,andaboutthemselves.

A few days later, one of my students, Laura, had an unexpected and uncharacteristicoutburstofdisruptivedefianceinclass.Sherefusedtoworkwithhergroup.IwasawarefromreadingLaura’sfilethatshehadstruggledwithdefiantbehaviorinpreviousyears,butwehaddeveloped a good rapport and she was always a respectful, thoughtful, and positivecontributortoourclass.Herbehaviorcaughtmeoffguard.IaskedhertoexcuseherselfandtoldherIwouldvisitwithher inournextdoor teamcenter in justaminute.Sherefusedtoleaveandsat silentlyglaringatme from thebackof the room. I rather firmly toldhersheneededtoexcuseherself—thiswasNOToptional.SheknewImeantit.Shemarchedfromtheback of the room to our classroom door—huffing and shooting me an angry look, thenproceededtoslamthedoorassheleftfortheteammeetingroom.

I continued our lesson and when the students were working together in their groups, Imotioned to my aide that I was going to step out to visit with Laura. I gently closed ourclassroomdoorbehindme,thenmarchedthefivestepsnextdoortoourmeetingroomwhereLaurawasseated.Inanunexpectedanduncharacteristicgestureoffrustration,Islammedthe

meetingroomdoorbehindme.AsIstoodoverher,Ibegantoexpresshowdisrespectfulanduncalled-forherbehaviorhadbeentoourclass.Herdefiancehadtriggeredawaveofout-of-characterangerinmeandIwassharpinmytoneandharshwithmywords.

Withoutlookingatme,sheabsorbedthebruntofmyangerwitharigidandsteelyexterior.When I paused for her response, she slowly turned and smugly stated, “You’re using yourtoolagainstme.”

Iwasspeechless.Therearetimesasateacherwhenyouareatacriticalcrossroadswithastudentand the roadyouchoosewillmakeall thedifference.Althoughpartofmeresentedthatshewascontinuingtobesodefiant—eveninherbrilliantrebuke—Ipausedtoreflectonaquotethatispostedonourteamcenterwall:“THINK!Whatistherightthingtodo,anddothat.”ThetruthofLaura’swordsandourteamcenter ’squotepenetratedmyconsciencelikeasharpscalpel.

Iknewatthatmomenttherightthingtodowastohumblybendmyknee,kneeldownnextto her chair, and softly say, “You’re right, Laura, you are so right. I have usedmywordsunwiselyandunkindly.Willyouforgiveme?”Ipausedandwaitedsilentlynexttoherchairand gently put my hand on her arm to reassure her of my sincerity. Her defiance slowlymeltedaway.Sheturnedandlookedmeintheeyeandsimplysaid,“Yes,Iforgiveyou,Mrs.Ekre.I’msorry,too.”Wecontinuedtovisitabitlongerandsharedafewlaughsandacoupleoftears.Eventually,wewalkedbackintotheclassroomtogether.

Fortherestofthedayandtherestoftheyear,Lauraneverhadanotheroutburst.Attheendof theyear, shewrotemeabeautiful letterabouthowshe lovedbeing inmyclassand thatsomeofthemostimportantlessonsshelearned,shelearnedinRoom25.Attachedtothenotewasasmallkey—atool,shesaid,foralanguageartsteacherwhotaughtherhowimportantwords can be. It serves as my reminder of a lesson I taught as a teacher but one I reallylearnedfrommystudent.

~BethEkre2009NorthDakotaStateTeacheroftheYearSocialStudies,LanguageArtsteacher,grade6

TheLittleChoirwithaBigDream

Thegreatestdreamsarealwaysunrealistic.~WillSmith

“Whatwillwebesingingforcontestthisyear?”astudentfrommyhighschoolchoiraskedeagerly.

Idreadedthismoment.“Iwasthinking,”Isaid,“maybewe’llskipthecontestandjustworkhardontheconcertsthisyear.”

“NO!”thekidsprotested.“We’vegottogotocontest!”“InClassA.”“It’stradition!”This was true. Award plaques lined the front wall of the music room from the past

successesoflarge,talentedclasses.Butaswingineducationalpolicies,withanemphasisonacademics, had reduced my choir to a mere thirty-two students. My section leaders hadgraduatedorbeenforcedtodropmusicclasses,leavingmewithyoung,inexperiencedkidswhocouldn’treadmusic,couldn’tholdtheirparts,andcouldsingonlyasimplemelody.

“MaybewecouldenterClassBthisyear,”Isuggested,knowingeventhatwouldbeanear-impossiblemission.

“No!”thekidsscreamed.“ClassA!”Ishookmyhead.“ClassAisextremelydifficult.”“Wecandoit!”theyshouted.“Wecandoit!”“I’llhave to thinkabout it,” Isaid,hoping theirenthusiasmwoulddieoff inacoupleof

weeks.Butthatdidn’thappen.Ifanything,theclassbecamemoreadamant.Everydaytheybegged,

theypleaded,theyinsisted.BecauseIhadtoprotecttheirself-esteemIcouldn’ttellthemtheyweren’tgoodenough.Myeffortstothwarttheireagerness,byshowingthemadifficultpieceofmusicfromthecontestlist,simplyendedwith,“It’sokay,Mrs.Pliszka,we’llgetit.”

Istruggledtomakeadecision.IfIcrushedtheirhope,wouldIcrushtheirspirit?Ontheotherhand,ifweenteredClassA,wouldtheybehumiliatedbythejudges’comments?

Irememberedoneofmycollegeprofessorssaying,“Everychildwilllearniftheteacheriswillingtoputforthtwiceasmucheffortasthestudent.”Iwasn’tafraidofhardwork,andIenjoyedachallenge.ButIwasn’tamiracleworker.AndsoIponderedthisdilemma.

FinallyonemorningIstompedintoclass.“Lookattheclock!”Idemanded.“We’vewastedtwo fullminutes because someof youdon’t haveyourmusic ready. Ifwe are entering the

contestinClassA…”Therestofmysentencewaslostinshrieksofdelightandapplause.“Fromnowon,”Icontinuedwhenthenoisesubsided,“youwillfindtheday’slessonplan

ontheboard.Beinyourseatswithyourmusicfoldersonthedeskwhenthebellringsandsitatattention,readyforwarm-upstheinstantI’mreadytobegin.WhenI’mworkingwithonesection,therewillbenotalkingfromtheothers.Youwilllisten,andyouwilllearn.Youwillworkharderthanyou’veeverworkedinanyclassbefore.Andifoneoftheserulesisbroken,wewillnotgotothecontest.Doeseveryoneagreetothis?”

I was certain they would fail to keep this contract, and no one would have to beembarrassed.Butastheweeksprogressedthekidsremainedfocused.Theyfollowedtheruleswithnocomplaintsandseemedtothriveonthedisciplinedemandedofthem.

Eachmorningtheyvocalized,workedonsight-reading, learnedmusical terms,practicedtempo and signature changes, rehearsed concert music, and went over and over the threecontestnumbers.

Iwasamazedat thedrivingforcethatkeptpushingthemon.Theyremindedmeof“TheLittle Engine that Could,” saying, “I think I can… I think I can… I know I can….” Theyadvanced to two part harmony, to three, to four, to six, and finally to eight parts. TheirprogresswassoremarkableevenIbeganbelievingintheirdream.

Sevenmonthsintotheschoolyear,whenthecontestdayfinallyarrived,thekidsfeltreadytotakeontheworld!Oneofthestudentswasunabletogetoffwork,onewasill,andonehadmovedaway.Soourlittlegroupnumberedtwenty-nine.Theywarmedup,listenedtomypeptalk,andmadetheirwaytotheperformancearea.

TheireyesopenedwidewhentheMadisonchoirmarchedinseventy-fivemembersstrong.Theirjawsdroppedwhen125studentsfromKing,thespecialtyschoolforthecollegebound,entered the room. Two private schools camewith fifty members each, thenMarshall withsixty;andfinally,forty-fivemembersfromtheeliteMilwaukeeSchooloftheArts.

As my choir mounted the risers, I looked at the three judges and remembered howimprobablethisscenariohadseemedatthebeginningoftheschoolyear.

“Smile!”Imouthed.Theylookedconfident.Itookadeepbreath,andwebegan.Theyperformedmasterfully.Wefinishedourthreesongs,andIwantedtoscreamatthetop

ofmy lungs,“YOUDIDIT!”But themostdifficult taskremained—sight-reading.Weweregivenashorttimetolookoveranewscore.Nothingwastobesungbymeorplayedbythepianist.Thechoirwasallowedtohearonly theirstarting tones,andIcoulddirect.But theywerebasicallyontheirown.

It seemed sucha short timeago theycould singonlya familiarmelody inunison.Nowtheyweresingingfourpartstoascorethey’dneverseenorheard,withoutaccompaniment,and doing it well.My heart swelled with pride for this little group as they executed theirdreamwiththesamespunktheyhadshownfromdayone.

Afterallthechoirshadperformed,wewaitedinourassignedroomfortheresults.“Theothergroupsweresolargeandsogood.Whatchancedowehaveagainstthem?”oneofmystudentsasked.

“Sizedoesn’tmatter.Andyouweren’tcompetingagainst them,”Ireplied,“onlyprovingyou can handle Class A.” Having said that, I wished it were true. But I knew it was a

competition in everyone’sheart—all choirshoping tobe thebest.Howcould sizenotbeafactor?Couldwepossiblyhavesoundedasfullandrichasthelargergroups?

Whilewewaitedforthejudges’scores,thekidsgazedattheclock,wentforsnacks,gazedattheclock,drewonthechalkboard,gazedattheclock….

Two very long hours later the results were posted. I stood frozen, staring at the list indisbelief.Therewasournameattheverytop:aFirstPlaceawardwiththehighestmarksofall.

“Wedidit!”Igulped,scarcelybreathing.Allaroundkidsweresquealingandembracing.Warmtearswetmycheeksasthememory

ofpersistentyoungvoicesechoedinmyhead:“Wecandoit!”“InClassA.”“We’llgetit!”Mythoughtswerejoltedasasuddenrushofstudentsnearlysmotheredmeinhugs.AndI

wassurroundedbykidswhohadadream—kidswhorefusedtogiveup—kidswhotaughtmeto never doubt the possibility of success for any student or any class ever again. I wassurroundedbythelittlechoirthatCOULD!

~KayConnerPliszka

LifeLessonsfromMyStudents

Whodarestoteachmustneverceasetolearn.~JohnCottonDana

It isahumblingexperiencewhen teachersare theoneswhoarealso learning in theirveryown classroom. After high school and college, it might seem as if the days of tests andhomework are over; however, when 150 students enter those classroom doors, teachersquicklyrealizethatlifetestsandlifehomeworkcomerightalongwiththestudents.

As an educator, I have discovered that the life lessons that students bring with them toschoolaretheonesthatItrulyneedtolearn.

I learn about commitment from my students who catch the 6:30 AM community busbecausenofamilymemberwillgivethemaridetoschool.

I learn about perseverance from my student with special needs who is included in mygeometry class and comes to tutoring every single morning, and Saturday, because hedesperatelywantstoearn“proficient”ontheendofcourseexamandsucceedlikehispeers.

Ilearnaboutstrengthfrommystudentwhohaslostbothparentsandisnowwatchinghislastlivingrelativedieofcancer,yetstillmanagestocometoschoolandfocusonhisclasses.

I learn about patience from my student who can only do her homework in morningtutoringbecauseshehastotakecareofhersiblingsfromthemomentthe3:30bellringsuntil10:30atnight.

Ilearnaboutcompassionfrommystudentwhowearsthesameclothestwodaysinarowbecausehetriedtostophismom’sboyfriendfromhittingher.Theydecidedtoputhimout,andhehadtosleepinacar.

AllofthesequalitiesthatIhavelearnedfrommystudentshaveaddeduptoaphilosophythathasshakenmyworld,transformedmythinking,andhasurgentlycalledmetoteacheverysingle moment for these students, because they all deserve a future, no matter theircircumstances.

This ambitious task of using every single teaching moment to the fullest is not anadventurefortheteacher.Instead,itisanadventurefortheverylife,soul,andpurposeofthestudent.

Onestorythatdescribesthisawesomeresponsibilitystartswithasecondyearsophomorestudent.Everyday,hewouldcomeintomyGeometryInvestigationsclass,sitintheveryback,andavoideyecontact.WhenIwouldasktheclassquestions,Icouldhearadeepvoicecoming

from his direction saying the correct answer every single time. I immediately began toinvestigate and found that he had high standardized test scores but his report card andplacementinschooldidnotmatchhisstateperformances.Iknewsomethinghadtochange.

Throughour schoolmentoringprogram, I askedhim if hewould like tobe apart of asupportteamthatwasspecificallydesignedtohelphimgraduateontimewithhisclassmates.Thisprogramwouldrequirehimtocomeinearlyeverysinglemorningfortutoringandforcompletingassignments,notjustinmyclassbutinallsevenclasses,andtospendlunchtimenotwithhisfriends,butinmyclassroomstudying.

Even after hearing all of the stipulations, hewaswilling towork diligently in order tochange his status from a second year sophomore to a true senior. This extensive two-yearendeavor required me to visit all of his classroom teachers, help him complete everyassignment,providehimmaterialstofinishprojects,andconstantlyremindhimthatsuccesscouldbeachievedifhestayedonthispath.Ichallengedhimeveryday,andduringhissenioryearhewasable tomake theHonorRoll, seehisname in the localnewspaper,and for theveryfirsttime,havehisgreat-grandfatherdrivetoschooltopickuphisreportcard.

Onapersonalnote,thisstudenthadbeenlivingwithhisgreat-grandfatherinsteadoflivingwith his mother, her boyfriend, and six siblings. The concept of family had not beendemonstrated in his life.However, at school, thementoring program provided himwith ateam that focused on his academic needs as well as celebrated his successes. The idea offamily,wherehewascaredforandwasseenasimportant,wasabletobecomeareality.

Unfortunately, during his senior year, his great-grandfather passed away and he had tomove back in with his mother, her boyfriend, and his siblings. His grades began to falldrastically,andhisnewlypositiveviewoflifebegantowilt.Butbecauseoftherelationshipandthebondthatwasestablishedoverthepast twoyearsthroughthementoringprogram,Iwasable tokeephim focusedonwhathecould control toachievehisgoal, rather than thenumerousobstaclesaroundhimthathecouldnotcontrol.

Heshoweddeterminationandperseverance,andhebecameaseniorwithhisoriginalclassandhadtheopportunitytograduatewithhisfriends.Sadly,whengraduationdayapproached,he told me that he would not attend the graduation ceremony because no family memberwouldbetheretoseehimwalkacrossthestagetoreceivehisdiploma.Itoldhimthathewaswrong;becauseon thatday, Iwouldbe there aswell ashis sixother teacherswhohad theunbelievable opportunity to see him transform into a student of self-worth, diligence, andpotential.

I can still remember the smile on his face as hewalked across that stage to receive hisdiploma.Istillthinktomyself,whatifthatmomenthadneverhappened?Whatifhisanswerswerenotheard,hisstorynotknown,hischanceforsuccessnottaken?Whatifthelessonshewastryingtoteachmewerenotlearned?

Thelifetestsandthelifehomeworkthatcontinuetobepiledonmydeskaredefinitelyacollectionofknowledgethathasthepowertomakeaneverlastingdifferenceinthelivesofsomany students. Their voices want to be heard and their gifts want to be celebrated. I havelearned that lessons are not alwaysmeant to be for students. As a teacher, I look forwardeveryyeartothelessonsmystudentsbringtotheclassroom,becauseIknowtheselivesare

readytobechanged.

~SusanWaggener2009ArkansasStateTeacheroftheYear

Math,BusinessEducationteacher,grades10-12

WelcometotheFourthGrade

Achildcanaskquestionsthatawisemancannotanswer.~AuthorUnknown

“Goodmorning,”Igreetedeachstudentatthedoor.“Pleaseputyourcoatsandlunchbagsintheclosetandsitatthedeskwhereyoufindyournametag.”

Thechildrencameinquietlyandsatexpectantly,almostreverently,theirhandsfoldedonthe desk in front of them. They stole looks around the classroom, searching for familiarfaces.Someofthemoredaringonespeekedinsidethetextbookspiledonthedesktops;mostofthemdidn’t.

Onebrave soul raisedhishand to ask if he could sharpenhisnewpencils. I smiled andnodded.As he left his seat and approached thewall-mounted sharpener, several classmatesscrambledafterhim,whisperingexcitedly.Thiswas thebig time; thiswas the intermediateelementaryschool;thiswasfourthgrade.

Bynineo’clock, twenty-fourscrubbedandshiningfaces filled theroom.“Howmanyofyouliketolistentolong,boringlecturesaboutschoolrules?”Ibegan.

Thequestionwasofcourserhetorical;thestudentssatstunned.Facialexpressionsreflecteduncertainty.Oneboyopenlygroanedanddramaticallyfloppedhisheaddownuponhisarmsfoldedonthedesk.

After checking the seating chart, I addressed the theatrically despondent boy by name.“What’sthematter,Josh?Don’tyoulikelong,boringlectures?”

“Well,”hebegan,“sinceyouasked…Ilikeawholelotofotherthingsawholelotbetter.”Aborndiplomat.“Justbetweenyouandme,”Isaid,loweringmyvoicetoastagewhisper,

“I’mnottoocrazyaboutthemeither,soIfigureifwehurryupandgetthisbusinessstuffoutofthewaywecanstarthavingfun.”

Hereturnedmysmilewhiletheclassexpelledacollectivesighofrelief.Byday’sendmythroatfeltasrawasafreshlyscrapedknee.Themajorityofstudentswore

glazedexpressions.Informationoverload,Ithought.Timetowrapitup.“By now,” I said, mustering what energy I had left, “you probably realize that I don’t

believethere’sanysuchthingasa‘dumbquestion.’Soifthere’sanythingyouwanttoknow,abouttodayorabouttherestoftheschoolyear,pleasefeelfreetoask.”

Notasinglehandwentup. Iwondered if thiswasbecause Ihadexplainedeverythingsoverywell,or,morelikely,becausetheywerefearfulofsoundingfoolishinfrontoftheirnewclassmates.

“You know,” I continued, “even grown-ups are sometimes afraid to ask questions.

Sometimesgrown-upsthinktheyshouldalreadyknowtheanswers,justbecausethey’reolderthankids.ButI’lltellyoualittlesecret:Evengrown-upsdon’tknoweverything.”

Thechildwho’dadmittedhedidn’tespeciallylikelecturesraisedhishand.“Yes,Josh?Doyouhaveaquestion?”“Well,”hebegan,“it’smoreofanobservation,really.”“Okay,goon.”“Iknowwhatyou’retryingtodo.”Mysilenceandraisedeyebrowsencouragedhimtoexpoundonhisidea.“Whenyoutellusthatevengrown-upsdon’thavealltheanswers,”hecontinued,“andthat

sometimesgrown-upsfeellikethey’reaskingdumbquestions,whatyou’rereallytryingtodoismakeusfeelmorecomfortable.”

“That’sright,Josh.”Inodded.“ButMs.B.,” he continued, “we already knowwe don’t know all the answers, and now

you’retellingusthatwhenwe’regrown-upswestillwon’tknowalltheanswers.”Hesigheddeeply.“Soyou’rereallynotbeingveryreassuring.”

“Wow,” I said, grinningat him, “you really followed that thought all theway through. IguessnexttimeI’llhavetotryhardertoputyouallatease.

Joshnoddedandgrinnedback.“Ijustthoughtyou’dwanttoknow,”hesaid.Theyearwasofftoagreatstart.

~JanBono

AnUnexpectedLesson

Theartofteachingistheartofassistingdiscovery.~MarkVanDoren

Jackhadthegripofamuscleman.Whenheshookyourhanditfelt likeeveryboneinsidewouldbreak.Thekidsknew it too,and feared for their liveswhen themoodstruckhim togive out giant bear hugs. He spent his spare time in physics class ripping apart telephonebookswithhisbarehands.Everythingabouthimwasstrongandassured.Challenginghiminphysicswasaconstantplayinkinestheticlearning.

When it came to Newton’s second law, one push from Jack was all it took to get thehovercraftgoingatrelativisticspeeds,orwhenwekarate-choppedboards,Jackledtheclassbybreakingeightboardsstackedhigh.Demonstratingmomentumconservationwasafavoritefor Jackbecause he could crush a cinder blockonmy chestwith a sledgehammer as I laybetween beds of sharpened nails. Jackwas a joy to teach because he could prettymuch doanything,soIwassurprisedwithhisreactiononedaywhenIchallengedhimwithalessononpulleys.

Ourtopicfortheweekwashowpulleysandropescanbeusedtoincreaseyourmechanicaladvantage.Jackwasexcitedbecauseheknewitmeanthewouldgettopushandpullthings.Togetthepointacrosswewentoutsidetodoa“pulley”tugofwar;itwastobeJackagainsttheentireclass,withonlya fewpulleys tohelphim.Theclasswassure this time therewasnoway Jack could outgun them, but Jack rigged up his side perfectly and to their dismay heconfidentlywonthematch.

But now it was time to get to the formality of learning and to apply what we learnedthroughwrittenwork.EachyearIendtheunitwithalessonthatIcall“ThematicPulleys.”Itismychancetousetherightandleftsidesofthebraintogether.Iaskthekidstointegrateartandphysics into a theme using pulleys. They solve a problem of their own design, drawing itartistically on paper, yet with absolute physical accuracy. The kids come upwith themostamazingdrawings,somesuspendspaghettidinnerswithmeatballpulleysonnoodleropes,or“Monopulley”gamepieceswith thepricesof realestate representingweights,orothersgofora“Beatles”theme,withrecordsbeingthepulleyshangingtheinstrumentsandplayersoftheband.Thebeautyofthedesignsareendless,entertainingandsimplybrilliant.

Jack sat and pondered the assignment. “Mr. Lampert,” he said, “I can’t draw.” I wassomewhattakenaback;thiswasthekidwhoIthoughtcoulddoanything.ThiswasBigJack,selfassuredJack, rip-a-telephone-book-in-halfJack.Butadelicatedrawingwas justnothis

cupoftea.Iassuredhimhecoulddotheassignmentandmusedtomyself,“Iwonderwhathewilldonow?”Ihadhitaweaknessinsidehim,andasateacher,Iwasexcitedtoseehowhewouldrespond.

ThedaytheassignmentwasduetherewasnoJack.EveryoneturnedintheirworkexceptJack. Iwas curiouswhat had happened butwent home that afternoon rather tired from theweekandIendedupcrashingsolidlyonthecouch,fastasleep.Iawokeatdusktoa“clippity-cloppity”soundapproachingdownthedriveway.Therewasaloudknockatthefrontdoor.Icrackeditopenslightly,quitecuriousabouttheruckus.Suddenlyahorseshoveditsheadrightinto the house! I heard a “Whoa there!” from behind the horse, and there was Jack. “HeyLampert!”hesheepishlysaid,“Ihavesomethingtoshowyou.Ibroughtyouahorsetoride;mineistiedupoverbythebasketballhoop.Comeon,saddleup!”

“Okay,thisisprettycool,”Ithought.Ihadnotriddenahorseinovertwentyyears,sothiscouldbefun.Igotmycourageup,andafterJackapologizedforthemessthehorsemadeonthedriveway,wewentridingashortwayupthehilltohisbarn.Asweentered,Isawhangingon the wall a whiteboard with Jack’s rudimentary drawings of pulleys, ropes and variousmathematicalcalculations.Thiswasagoodsign.Hehadobviouslybeenbusydoingphysicstoday.

Wedismountedandwalkedtothemiddleofthearena.ThereIwasimpressedtoseewhatJackhadbeenworkingon.Suspendedfromahighgirderwasastrongropewindingthroughseveralpulleys;attheendwasapalletloadedwithatleastfourhundredpoundsofhayandoldtractor parts. Jack said to me “Okay, Lampert, hop on!” He explained to me how he hadfigured out the exact lifting force needed and then, with just one arm, Jack grinned as hepulledtheentireweightandmeupanddownwithease.“WhatdoyousayLampert?IsthatanA?”heaskedinseriousness.“Jack,that’sanA-plus!”Isaidproudlyasheletmedown.

I was quite taken aback by Jack’s work, and as I rode home I reflected on the lesson,realizing that Ihad learneda lot that evening.Aroundmewas thebeautyof thehorses, theopenfields,theredskyandthepeaceoftheOregoncountryside.WhileearlierIhadmusedtomyselfabouthowJackmightsolvehisshortcomings integratingartandphysics,hereJackhadclearlysteppeduptothechallenge.Hecreatedamasterpiecethatwentaboveandbeyondtherequirementsfortheassignment.Hedemonstratedthatstudentscanandwillsolveprettymuch anything you present them. Jackwas strong physically, butmore importantly hewasstrong-willed.

~MichaelLampert2009OregonStateTeacheroftheYear

Physicsteacher,grades9-12

Connecting

Theimportantthingisnotsomuchthateverychildshouldbetaught,asthateverychildshouldbegiventhewishtolearn.

~JohnLubbock

WhenIenteredcollegeintheearly1980s,Ihadmyheartsetonbeingafirstgradeteacher.Ididallofmyobservationsinothers’first-gradeclassrooms.Istudenttaughtfirstgrade,andIinterviewed formy first job… in a first-grade classroom.Needless to say, Iwas delightedwhen the district offered me a job… as a fifth grade teacher in an inner-city building,consideredatthetimetobeoneofourdistrict’stoughestassignments.Itwasn’tthefirst-gradeclassroomIhadhopedfor,butitwasMYclassroom!

I was prepared for the curriculum I would teach, and even the social issues I wouldencounter, but in a classroom of fifth graders, there will always be something you’re notpreparedfor,especiallyasafirstyearteacher.

Inavigatedthroughmyfirstyearfairlysuccessfully,whileworkingtoformrelationshipswithmystudentsinanefforttokeeponestepaheadofthem,whichwasnoeasyfeat!Therewasone child in particular,Alexander,who I just couldn’t seem to connectwith.Hewas aspecialneedsstudentwhohadlearningdisabilitiesinbothmathandreading.Herarelybathed,hisclotheswere filthy, and theotherchildrenwere sometimesverycruel tohim.Hewasadifficultchildtogettoopenup,butIwasdoggedinmyefforts.

Youcanimaginemydelightwhenfinally,inlatespring,Alexanderraisedhishandduringmathclass.Notonlydiditgoup,butitwasaccompaniedby“Ooh,ooh,ooh,”ashewaveditfrantically.ThrilledthatAlexanderwaseagertoparticipateinourdiscussionforthefirsttimeever,Iimmediatelycalledonhim.

Well, you can imagine my surprise when he suddenly lunged into a story about hisgrandma,whomhewasexcitedtotellus,hadaholeinherhead.Yousee,wewerestudyingfractions thatday,and Ihad just explained thata fraction is“apartofawhole.”Alexanderobviously didn’t realize the difference between W-hole and H-ole. “Homophones,” I toldmyself,“hadbetterbetomorrow’sEnglishlesson!”

AcknowledgingAlexanderthatdaywasexactlywhatheneededfromme.Wehadsuddenlybonded.Alexanderfeltsuchaconnectiontomeafterthat,thatheevenwentonestepfurther.

I arrived at the school the following morning and was genuinely surprised to findAlexanderandhisgrandmawaiting forme.Grandmabeganbysaying,“Alexander saidhe

toldyouthatIhaveaholeinmyhead.”Ismilednervouslyandsaid,“Don’tworry.Youknowkids!Theyhavegreat imaginations!”Grandma replied, “Youdidn’tbelievehim,didyou?”“No, of course not,” I stammered.Well, just that quick, Grandma proudly popped out herglasseye,revealingthatshetrulydidhaveaholeinherhead!

Iwillneverforgetthatday,andthelessonsthatIlearnedfrombeingAlexander ’steacher.Hetaughtme:

1. Students with learning disabilities can connect to a word or phrase, even if it is ahomophone,andthenjustneedtovocalizetheirthoughts.

2.Icanconnectwiththehard-to-reachstudentsifIallowthemtospeakwhentheyarereadyto.

3.Thechildwhositsbyhimself,whoisshunnedbyhispeers,andwhoappearstobe“onanotherplanet”mostdays,mayjustbewaitingfortherightmomenttosharesomethingwithyou.Heistestingyoutoseeifyoureallydocareabouthim.

4.Weneedtolookbeyondthe“package”thatourstudentsandtheirfamiliescomewrappedin,sothatwecanseeinsidethem,andfindoutwhatmotivatesthem.

5.Ifachildeveragain tellsmeaboutafamilymemberwithahole inhisorherhead…BELIEVEHIM!

~TaniaL.Harman2009IndianaStateTeacheroftheYear

Elementaryteacher,grades1-2

TheGlitterMask

Everyartistdipshisbrushinhisownsoul,andpaintshisownnatureintohispictures.

~HenryWardBeecher

It isTuesday, just threedaysbeforeHalloween.WehavebeenmakingHalloweenmasks inmyfirstclassoftheday,andIneedtoquicklyclearandorganizefeathers,sequinsandgluebottlesbeforerushingontomynextclass.

Quianysidlesuptome.Inthewheedlingtonesheuseswhenattemptingtomanipulateyouintodoingsomething“justforher”sheasks,“CanIusesomemoreglitter,MissMiller?CanIusemoresequins?Justalittlemore.Iknowyoualwayssaythatwithglitter,lessismore.Butjustalittlemore,MissMiller?Please?”

I say, “We’ll see,Quiany.But not today. I’ll be backwith your class again onThursdayafternoon.We’lljusthavetosee.”

“Okay,MissMiller.Okay.”ThoughIhavealotoflifeexperience,withafamilyandfullydevelopedcorporatecareer

inmypast,IamabrandnewteacherinatoughNewYorkCityschooldistrictandstillfeelingthingsout.I’mnotsureoftherightwaytohandlesomanysituations,andthisisoneofthose.

As things turnout, IamnotatworkonThursdayafternoon,whenIwouldordinarilybeteaching Quiany’s class again.My first grandchild, a girl, is bornWednesday night and IspendThursday in thehospitalwithAlexisandbeautifulnewRubyJane.OnFriday,whenIreturn to school, it’sHalloweenandour little schoolof studentswith specialneeds is evenwilderthanusual.Studentsareexcited,andwayoutofcontrol.

SinceIkeepsomeofmyartmaterials inacabinet inmyfriendMari’sroom,Igo therefirst to getmyself set up formy classes.Quiany, as it happens, has been placed inMari’sclassroomfortheday,probablytokeepheroutofharm’sway.StreetwiseandmanipulativethoughQuianymaybe,thepre-adolescentboysinherclassofcomplicatednine-toeleven-year-oldsareleaguesbeyondherinthatdepartment.Ontheotherhand,thefive-andsix-year-olddevelopmentallydelayedstudentsinMari’sclass,thoughchallengingfortheteachers,canbeverysweetandtheyloveQuianyalot,andshelovesthem.Today,thisisdefinitelyabetterplaceforhertobe.

Assoonassheseesme,Quianycomesoverfromthedress-upcorner,whereshehasbeenplayingwithStarr.Sheiswearingatall,pointedwitch’shatcoveredinblacksequins.Inherslightlyaccentedvoice,sosoftlyIcanbarelyhearher,sheasks,“MissMiller,canIworkonmymask?CanIusealittleglitter?”

“That’sokaywithmetoday,Quiany,butlet’smakesureit’sokaywithMissMari.”Itwas.“Okay,Quiany, I’ll get yourmask and somematerials, andyou’ll be able to use a little

glitter.”Inafewminutes,IreturnwithQuiany’smaskandsomematerialsshecanaddtohermask.

Ialsohavemytoolbox,whichcontains,amongotherthings,theglittersheissofocusedon.ButbeforeIcangeteverythingarranged,Ihearscreamingfromanotherclassroom.Itismyjobtocheckoutsituationslikethis,soIneedtogoseewhatIcandotohelp.ItellQuianytostartwith the sequins and pipe cleaners and that Iwill be back shortly to help herwith theglitter.

AssoonasI’mable,IreturntoMari’sroomandwalkdirectlytoQuiany.Shenoticesmeapproachingandquicklyhidesthemaskbehindherback,thenlooksupatmesheepishly.

“What’sgoingon,Quiany?Yousaidyouwantedtousesomemoreglitteronyourmask.Let’sgettoworkonthat.”

“Iuseditalready,”shesaysquietly.“Oh,really,”Isay,aquestionmarkinmyvoice,notreallysurehowtohandlethisturnof

events,“andwheredidyougettheglitterfrom?”“Iwentintoyourtoolbox.”“Quiany,” I saysternly,“youknowthatnooneexceptme iseverallowed togo intomy

toolbox,foranyreason.”“I know,MissMiller,” she says, sounding honestly upset despite her usual tough front,

“but…”“Nobutsaboutit,Quiany.Noone.Notever.Foranyreason.”Forthemoment,shebucklesunder.“Okay,MissMiller.”Iletsomemomentspassinsilence.Then,“So…let’sseeit.”“Well,”Quianystartseagerly,“Iknowyoualwayssaylessismorewithglitter.ButIuseda

littlemorethanless….”“Well,letmeseeitanyway,Quiany.”Mytone,I’mcertain,conveyswhatI’mfeeling,amix

ofimpatienceandsympathy.Overall,I’mmorethanreadytobedonewiththis,butsomewhatsurprisemyselfasIadd,“Todayis,afterall,aspecialday.Maybealittlemorethanalittleisokay,justfortoday.”Nothingtobedoneaboutitnow,Ithink.Imightaswelllethergetoutofthisgracefully.

Reluctantly,shetakesthemaskoutfrombehindherbackandholdsitoutformetosee.Sheisright.Shehasdefinitelyusedalittlemorethanalittle.Shehasusedsomuch,infact,thattheglitter covers all the work she had done the other day. All of the glitter colors, neatlyseparatedintheirlittlebottlesinmytoolbox,areallmixedtogetheronhermask.Noneofthefabricofthemaskshowsthroughanywhere.Theentiremaskisglitter.Justglitter.Andit isglorious.

Iamatalossforwords,notsureoftheappropriateteacherresponsetothis.Ontheonehand, Quiany has broken several of our “art rules.” On the other hand, she has createdsomethingverybeautiful.Tome,allof these thingsare importantand Ican’t thinkquicklyenoughatthemomenttodeterminewhichshouldhavethepriority.

“Quiany,”Ifinallysay,“youreallydidusealotofglitter.”“Yes,MissMiller,Iknow.”“And,”Icontinue,“youdoneedtofollowtherules.Thisisnotthewaywenormallyuse

glitter,norcanyougointomythingswithoutasking.”“Iknow,MissMiller,”shesays,soundingquitemiserablethistime,andappearingtobeon

thevergeoftears.“Iknow.I’msorry.Iwon’tdoitagain.”“But,” I add slowly and cautiously, “yourmask is very, very beautiful.Letme see it on

you.”Shekeepsherheaddownandpullsthemaskon,slidingtheelasticofthemaskupandover

theblackwitch’shat.Takingadeepandexaggeratedbreath,Quianypicksherheadup andlooks straight atme.Herdark eyespeer anxiously frombehind themagnificentmask.Herface,framedbythewavesofherlong,darkhairandthepointed,blackhat,looksstunning.IknowIwillneverforgethowshelooksatthismoment.

Ineedtogivethisalotmorethought,Ithinktomyself.Maybelessisnotmoreallthetime.MaybeQuiany,alltheQuianys,knowalotmorethanIdoaboutcertainthings.

Leaningdown,notsayingaword,IpullQuianyclose,huggingthechildsheisnowandthewomanshewillsomedaybe.

~CelesteMiller

SchoolGlue

Whatartoffersisspace—acertainbreathingroomforthespirit.~JohnUpdike

Myclassroomwasasortof“dumpingground”atonepointinmycareer.Thecounselor,Mr.H., had ahabit of coming tomewith a timid smile and saying, “I have akid for youwhoyou’lljustlove.Thatwascodefor“Ineedtoputa‘bad’kidinyourclasswho’sgottenkickedoutbyanotherteacher.”Isighedandanswered,“Well,alright.”Andthus,inwalkedJosh.

Somekidsputupa littlewall topreventothers fromknowing theirvulnerabilities. Joshhadmilitary-gradebodyarmor.Hewasatypical,tough-acting,fourteen-year-oldboy:smackin themiddle of adolescence, something to prove but nothing to prove itwith just yet.Hedidn’tlikeschoolandschooldidn’tlikehim.

Themention of Josh’s name yielded growls and steam in three grade levels ofmiddle-schoolteachers.Igothimforfourperiodsduringhiseighth-gradeyear.Hewasinmyhistoryclass,my study hall,my “student assistant” period, and he sat inmy room during anotherteacher ’sclass,withwhomhe“didn’tgetalong.”Heworkedsome,butmostly,hedrewlotsandlotsofpictures.Hebroughtwithhimfrustrationfromotherclasseseverydayandwouldcomeinangry, ignoreme,andgetoutpaper.I lethimdraw,butIfrequentlycomplainedtohimthatheoughttobedoingworkforhisotherteachers.Hewasdifficult,soIjustlefthimalonemostofthetime.

Prettysoon,JoshandIhadcometoanunderstanding.Heheld it together justenough tokeepmesane.Whenhewasfinishedwithhisworkformehewouldaskforpaperandpencilstodraw. Iwould reluctantlyagree,as Iknew itwasnotabattle Ineeded topickduringmybusyday.Otherteachershadcomplainedoverandoverthathedrewpicturesintheirclasses,soIwasreluctanttoencouragehim.Heleftafolderinmyclassroomwithhisdrawings,butIneverlookedatit.Imadeitthroughtheyear,justbarely,withmyJosh-heavyexperience.

Attheendoftheschoolyear,IspokebrieflywithJosh’smother.SheexplainedthatJosh’sfatherhadbeendeployedforoverfourteenmonthstoIraqandwasfrequentlyincombat.IdonotknowhowIdidn’tknowthis—nooneattheschoolhadmentionedit.Isupposethereweresomanydeploymentsamongourmilitaryfamilies that itwasoverlooked.Joshhad tohelphertakecareofhisyoungerbrotherwithspecialneeds.Hehadn’thadagoodyearatschool,buthe’dhadanevenworseyearathome.Thestressofthedeploymenthadtakenatollonhisfamily.BecauseJoshlikedtodraw,thefamilypsychologistsuggestedhedrawwheneverhefeltfrustratedorangryorsadorscared.Hedrewallthetimeathometoo.Ifeltsoterrible.

Josh’smother gaveme a beautiful, handmade book. It had several of themost amazingdrawingsIhadeverseen,andacoupleofphotosofJosh“torememberhimby,”sincetheywouldbemovingsoon.Icouldn’tbelievehewassotalentedandIhadnevertakenamomentto notice. He had drawnmeworking atmy desk, the view out the classroomwindow, thefurnitureinmyclassroom,vegetables,fruits,andmanyotherthings.Amazing.

When I asked why she had given the book to me, she explained that she knew what adifficultchildhewas.ShetoldmethatIwastheonlyteacherwhohadnotthrownhisdrawingsaway.ShesaidJoshhadactuallydescribedme to the familypsychologistas the“glue” thatheldhisworldtogethersincehisdadleft,andthatIwastheonlyteacherwhowaskindtohim.Because I let him drawwhen hewas sad or angry, hewantedme to have the book to say“thankyou.”Shesaidhewas tooembarrassed togiveme thebookhimself.Shegavemeatearfulhug,andsheleft.Ihavenotseenthemsince.IdothinkaboutJoshlots;Ihaveoneofhispieces—aradish—framedinmykitchen.

Ateacher ’sjobisdifficult.Weforgetsometimes,however,thatday-to-daylifecanbefarmoredifficultformanyofourstudents.Itrytofindsomethingspecialineverystudent,butbecauseofJosh,Itryharderwiththe“complicated”kids.IknewIhadbeenkind,asdifficultasitwassometimes,butIneverknewIwasglue—myveryunintendedproudestmoment.

~DorothyGoffGoulet2009DepartmentofDefenseStateTeacheroftheYear/Department

ofDefenseEducationActivityFrench,SocialStudiesteacher,grades9-12

Editor ’s note: The Department of Defense Education Activity (DoDEA) is a public schoolsystemfordependentsofournation’smilitarymembers.Nearly2millionchildreninmilitaryfamilies live in theUnitedStates andonoverseasmilitary installations in twelve countries,sevenU.S.states,Guam,andPuertoRico.DoDEAemploysabout12,000educatorsandserves80,000studentsinnearly200schools.

RecessMoment

Youlearnsomethingeverydayifyoupayattention.~RayLeBlond

Whenyou teach firstgrade,youspendagooddealof timedeveloping fluency: fluency inreading, fluency inmath concepts, fluency of thought inwriting.Yetmymostmemorablelessoninfluencyoccurredonourschool’splaygroundandIwasthelearnerwhilemystudentwastheteacher.

ItwasthebeginningoftheschoolyearafewyearsagoandIhadalittleboyinmyclasswhocamefromanon-Englishspeakinghome.Hewasveryquietandincrediblyshy.Iwasn’tsurehowmuchheunderstoodduringtheschooldayandIwasespeciallyconcernedthathejuststoodbyhimselfatrecessanddidnotplay.IfItriedtotalktohim,hewouldturnawayandtightlyshuthiseyestohidefromme.

Afteradayortwoofthis,Idecidedtoenlistthehelpofoneofmyoutgoingandfriendlylittlegirls.Icalledheroverandsherantome,pigtailsflying,eagertohelp.

IimmediatelylaunchedintoalongspeechaboutwhatIneededfromher.Iaskedherifshewould try togethim toplay,and I startedbabblingall thesesuggestionsonhowshecouldstartcommunicatingwithhim.Iexplainedshecoulddothis,shecoulddothat,shecouldtrythisidea,shecouldtrythatidea.Shetouchedmyarmtostopmyincessanttalkingandlookedupatmeinthatwiseandworldlywaythatonlyasix-year-oldcan,andsaid,“Don’tworry.IspeakKid.”Andsheranoff,sunstreamingthroughthetrees,herwhitesneakerskickingupbitsofmulch.

I stood there all alone, silentlywatching her. It took less than aminute for the two newfriendstorunoff,handinhand,happilyjoiningagameoftagtakingplacealloverthejunglegym.

My sweet little girl was right. I did not need to problem-solve for her. She spoke Kidfluentlyandaccomplishedwhatshehadbeenchargedtodo.

Ioftenthinkofthatsmallmomentatrecess,aboutwhatIlearnedandhowimportantitisforallteacherstospeakKid—bigkid,littlekidandmiddlekid.Iknewmyfocusmustbeonteachingstudentshowto think,howtoapproachproblems,andhowto figureoutsolutionsandnever take theopportunity away.Wemustbe ready to learn fromour studentsbecausethose“teachablemoments”duringtheschooldaysareforus,theteachers,aswellasourkids.

~JeanneMuzi

2009NewJerseyStateTeacheroftheYearElementaryteacher,grade1

TheUnexpectedDifference

Toteachistolearntwice.~JosephJoubert

Forastatewide teacher forum, Iwasasked tocreatea tablepresentationcharacterizingmyclassroom,mystudents,ourdistrictandcommunity.Asanavidscrapbooker, I immediatelyrelishedthe ideaofcreatingphotocollagesandcarefullyarrangingartifactsandmementosthatwouldillustratetheimportantworkteachersdoinsidetheworldoftheirownclassrooms.

So, forweeks, I sifted through file drawers and shoeboxes, searched in cabinets and inclosets.Iwashopingtofindjusttherightprintsormemorabiliathatwouldcapturethespiritandpersonalityofmyschoolandcommunity—thatwouldcapturethedifferenceIhadmadeasa teacher.All throughSeptember, Iunearthedphotosof lessonactivitiesandkeepsakes IknewIhadstoredinafilefolderinthebackofoneofthosedrawers.Iaskedmycolleaguestohelpmefindimagesorobjectsthatwouldrepresentourmostfamouscommunitymembers,like Mr. Rogers and Arnold Palmer, and the Pittsburgh Steelers, who hold training campnearby. By mid-October, I had found those things. But, I had also found somethingunexpected,somethingmuchmoredear,andveryrare.

IfoundpicturesofGavinwhogaveuptwoweeksasahighschoolsenioronesummertohelp fifth and sixth graders craft puppets out of socks at elementary drama camp. I foundnotesfromandpicturesofCalvinwhomIhadtaughtforalmostsixyears,andrememberedhowhealwaysmadesureeveryclassmatefeltacceptedandvalued.IfoundarésuméwrittenbyCarriewhosupportedherselfwithout thehelpofparents,andwhodespiteheroften latenightshifts,nevermissedadayofclass.IfoundaworncopyofRobertCormier ’sIAmtheCheesethatPeteproclaimedwasthefirstbookhehadeverfinished.Ifoundstudent-questionsscrawledon slipsofpaper andPost-itnotes. I foundacopyofMacbeth in Portuguese thatbelonged to an exchange student who read it first in her own language, before reading itagain in ours, just so she could be sure she wasn’t missing something important in thetranslation. I found Kelly and Sarah; Mark and Abby;Matt, Justin, Laura, Morgeaux, andDave.IfoundErin,Cady,Bree,andLisa;Lindsey,Charlie,Hilary,andKate.Amanda,Taylor,andNenny.

Ifoundmystudents.Thestudentswhohadmademelaugh.Thestudentswhohadmovedmewiththeircourage

andcompassion.ThestudentswhohadchallengedmetoquestionwhatIknewof theworldoutsidemy own hemisphere, the studentswho inspiredme to expectmore from them and

frommyself.What I foundwas evidence of a real difference.Not the difference I hadmade in their

lives, but the difference they hadmade inmine. There Iwas, standing atmy filing cabinetreviewinglessons—notthoseIhadtaught,butthemanyIhadlearned.Lessonsinstrengthandperseverance,humilityandhonesty.Lessonsinlaughter,joy,andgrace.

I came to teaching, as most teachers do, hoping to touch the hearts and minds of mystudents.WhatIneverexpectedwashowpowerfullytheywouldtouchmine.

InSeptember,mytablepresentationwasanassignment,andIwentaboutcompletingitasaprofessional task. In October my work became very personal, and served as a wonderfulreminderofjusthowpowerfulaplaceaclassroomcanbe,notjustforstudents,butalsoforteachers.And,whenIarrivedattheforumwithmypresentationintow,itwasn’tadisplayofanydifferenceIhadmade,butthedifferencemystudentshadmade.Itdidn’tdisplaylessonsofmydesign,butmystudents’ lessons, theones theyhad taughtme. I lookedaroundat theotherdisplaysandfoundasimilartheme.Ididn’tseegraphsorreportcards.Ididn’tseeunitplans or portfolios. I saw stuffed animals, hats, pumpkins and patches—electronic photoalbums,smilingfaces,storybooks,andevenfishingflies.Isawkeepsakesandmementosthatspoke of caring, compassion, motivation, and enthusiasm. I saw tokens of kindness andsouvenirsofbraveryandcreativity.

Isawarealdifference—thedifferencemadebystudentswhohavewalkedinandoutofourclassrooms,inandoutofourlives,inandoutofourhearts.

Inmaking lesson plans, all teachers have to ask “What will this day’s lesson be?” Thequestionbeginswith the students as audience, but it’s a question that I now turnonmyself.TodayIwalkthroughthedoorofmyclassroomreadytoteach,butalsoeagertolearnfromthe young people who are excited to teach me about them—their insights and interests,problems and anxieties, hopes and fears.We teachers aremasters of prepared lessons, butshould always appreciate that the unexpected lessons, both simple and profound, effect themostpowerfuldifference,fortheymakestudentsofusall.

~RebeccaSnyder2009PennsylvaniaStateTeacheroftheYear

Englishteacher,grades10-12

TheHealingPowerofChildren

Thereisagardenineverychildhood,anenchantedplacewherecolorsarebrighter,theairsofter,andthemorningmorefragrantthaneveragain.

~ElizabethLawrence

Iheaded to thedistrictoffice for theusualTuesdaymorning leadershipmeeting. Ihad justheardaboutthefirstTwinTowerattack.Likemostpeopleacrossthecountry,Iwasinshock.

A television newscast in the boardroom was replaying the first plane’s assault. A fewminutes after my arrival, the superintendent entered and asked us all to go back to ourcampuses immediately and bring some semblance of calmness and order to our schoolcommunity.

At my office, I summoned the counselor and together we sketched out a plan forcommunicating with and consoling the staff, students and parents. TVs were turned off.TeachersandIspokeonlyofwhatweknewandavoidedspeculation.Parentsfearfulofotherattacksinthecountrywerereassured.Aboveall,ImadesurethatIwasineveryclassroom,inthecafeteriaandoutsideatreleasetime.

Students of every age were frightened. But it was the children who made the biggestdifferenceoverallduringthosefirstfewdays.

OnFriday,thePresidentorderedamomentofsilenceatnoonacrossthecountrytohonorthosewhohadbeenkilledinthe9/11tragedy.Thiswastotakeplace,ofcourse,atthepeakofcafeteriaservingtimewithover200adolescentsinthebuilding.Itoldtheaidesthatwewouldmostdefinitelystopforamomentofrespectandwasrebuked:“Youwillnevergetallofthesekidsquiet,”theysaid.“Watch,”Ireplied.

At noon, I stood on the stage, took the microphone in my hand and announced thePresident’sproclamation.Instantlytheroomfellsilent.Ihadgoosebumpsonmyarmsandalumpinmythroat.Ithankedthekidswhentheminutehadpassedandmadeastatementabouthow fortunatewe allwere to be living in theU.S.The goose bumps returned as the roomresoundedwithapplause.

Atdismissaltimethatday,weconductedapeacefulstudentmarch.Liningbothsidesofthemain sidewalk to the parking lot wereNJHSmembers holdingAmerican flags. One classafteranotherwalkedtogether,someholdinghands,somelinkedtogetherattheelbows.Someheldbanners.Otherssangpatrioticsongs.Thegoosebumpsresurfaced.Allaroundmewereparentscryingandcheering.

Itrulybelieveinthehealingpowerofchildren.TheyputthingsinperspectiveduringthatpainfulweekandlettheadultsseethatAmericastillstandsstrong.Theymademeproudtobe

aneducatoraswell.Somanytimesinmycareer,mystudentshavegivenmestrength.Oftenwhenthedayhas

startedoffwrongorI’mfeelingdownandout,theyhavehelpedtotakemymindinanother,morepositivedirection.

They havewhatwe, the adults in their lives, need tomake surewe have daily in largeamounts—theabilityto“heal”—withanempatheticheartandagreatsenseofhope.Equippedinthismanner,wecanleadourstudentsthroughanystorm.

~TimRamsey

GreatIdeas

IfyouhaveanappleandIhaveanappleandweexchangetheseapplesthenyouandIwillstilleachhaveoneapple.ButifyouhaveanideaandIhaveanideaandweexchangetheseideas,

theneachofuswillhavetwoideas.

~GeorgeBernardShaw

TalesfromtheRappin’Mathematician

Hip-hopissupposedtoupliftandcreate,toeducatepeopleonalargerlevelandtomakeachange.

~DougE.Fresh

Itwasmyfirstyearofteaching,andIwassinking.All thatpreparation,all thosediplomas,andIcouldnotgetmymiddleschoolstudentstositdownandpayattention.IfeltdisrespectedandfrustratedthatIcouldn’tgetthemtorememberwhatIhadjusttaughtthedaybefore;yet,theycouldeasilyremembereverywordofthenewrapsongontheradio.Ofcourse,theotherproblemwiththiswasthattheywouldcomeineachdaysingingaboutviolence,druguse,andmistreatingwomen,whichfrustratedmeevenmore.

And then, one afternoon, it hitme. Instead of turning off their radios, I needed to offerthem a different station. I went home, and made up a rap song about the math we werelearningatthetime(addingandsubtractingdecimals),called“TheItty-BittyDot.”Ipracticeditallnight,peppered itwithcleverphrasesandrapped itoveranauthentichip-hopbeat I’dfound online. I remembered my own love of rap in its cleaner youth and imagined howimpressedmystudentswouldbewithmy“cool”factorformywaywitharhyme.Earlythenextmorning,whenmyclasscamein,Iperformeditforthem….

Theresultsweredisastrous.Thestudentslaughedhysterically,andIfeltanythingbutcool—more like a complete flop. Now, not only were they not paying attention, they werelaughingatme.Laterthatday,ItrudgedofftolunchlikealoserfromTheGongShow.Andthenithappened.AsIwalkedbythelunchtables,thestudentsweresingingmysong!Thenextday,theyeagerlyranintomyclassroom,sayingthingslike,“Mr.Kajitani,areyougoingtorapagain?Yesterdaywasthebestdayeverinmathclass!AreyougoingtobeonMTV?”

Fromthatmomenton,everythingshifted.Ihadconnectedwithmystudentsontheir level,usinglanguagetheyunderstoodtogetacrosswhatIwastryingtoteach.Igotthemlaughing—it didn’tmatter if itwas atme, because itmeant theywere present and comfortable (nosmallfeatintheoftendangerousneighborhoodmystudentslivein).Byshiftingmyapproach,Igotthemexcitedtocometoschool,tolearn,andtohavemeastheirteacher.Theirbehaviorimproved dramatically, and their test scores began tomatch, and then outpace, theirmoreaffluentcounterparts.

I began calling myself “The Rappin’ Mathematician,” and started rapping about all themathconceptsIwasteaching,lettingthewackyhumorflow(realizingthat“cool”reallywasjust being myself, as we often tell our students). Unlike the songs on the radio, I used

languagethatwaspositive,andincludedmessagesnotonlyaboutmath,butaboutbelievinginoneself,making good decisions, and the importance of school. The songs quickly becamelegendary throughout the school and district, and, encouraged by my fellow teachers, Irecordedthemontoanalbum(andthenextyearanother,andaworkbookthefollowingyear)so other teachers could use them in their classrooms.Now teachers throughout theUnitedStates usemy songs, and I have receivedmany e-mails and phone calls from parents andfelloweducatorstellingmethat,forthefirsttime,theirstudentslovemath.

Intheend,ImaynevermakeittoMTV,butasaresultofmy“mathrappin’epiphany”inthosefirstdesperatedaysofteaching,studentsaregettingexcitedaboutlearning.Andthat,inmybook,isamuchbiggersuccess.

•••

“No way!” erupted several teachers last November when I suggested we take our eighthgraders—allofthem,eventhoseonacademicprobation—onatwo-mile“walkingfieldtrip”to theCaliforniaCenter for theArts to see a renowned, educational hip-hop dance troupe.“Thisneighborhoodistoodangeroustoleavetheschool!”oneteachersaid.“There’snowayI’m bringing xx, he’s been suspended twice for tagging the bathroom—just imagine whathe’lldoattheArtsCenter!”anothercolleaguechimedin.

That’s when I made my case. Yes, our school’s Latino immigrant neighborhood is“rough”—withoneofthemostrapidlygrowingpovertyratesinCaliforniaandastronggangpresence. And we’ve spent countless hours discussing how to get parents and communitymemberstosupportourschool,andcomeontoourcampus.Yetwe’dneverspenttimegettingourschooloutintothecommunity.Aboveall,asteachersinthiscommunity,wearevisitors;wedon’t livehere. Ifwe trulywantan interconnected communityand school,whichweallagreewedo,wecannotbeafraidoftakingourstudentsintotheworld,theirworld,andgoinginto it ourselves. We also can’t be afraid of taking a chance on our lowest-performingstudents; giving them something positive (like some music education) could make atremendousdifferenceforthem.

So, the teachers agreed to do the trip, with the entire eighth grade, and to call it, “MyNeighborhood…MyHip-Hop!”We invitedparentsandcommunitymembers, suchas localpolice,firefightersandbusinessowners,tochaperone.Evenmembersofourschool’sofficestaff, normally confinedbehind their desks all day, excitedlyvolunteered tohelp.Withourstudents,we examinedmapsof the neighborhood anddiscussed routes that should (and, asstudentspointedout,shouldNOT)betaken.Isupervisedthemonthsofplanning,butteachers,students,parents,staffandcommunitymembersbecomeengagedandempowered.

On the day of the trip, as wewalked down the streets of our school’s community, onestudentexclaimed,“Mr.Kajitani,we’regettingalotoffunnylooksfrompeopleintheircars—it’slikethey’veneverseenstudentsbefore!”Exactly,Ithoughttomyself.Studentsproudlypointedouttheirhomes,orwheretheirparentsworked.Theysmiledandgreetedpeopleonthestreet.Duringtheshow,theychanted“Mission!Mission!”attheappropriatetime,showinga school pride I’d never seen in three years of teaching at Mission Middle School. One

normallysullenandquietgirl,whowasfailingherclasses,dancedspectacularlyonthestageto the cheers of her peers; it was the first time I ever saw her smile. After the show, ourparentsandcommunityvolunteers,andthetheaterstaff,allcommentedonhowwell-behavedandfriendlyourstudentswere.Andwhenweleft,therewasnotagginginthebathroom.

~AlexKajitani2009CaliforniaStateTeacheroftheYear2009NationalTeacheroftheYearFinalist

Mathteacher,grade8

BringMeBackaRock

Manisharderthanrockandmorefragilethananegg.~YugoslavProverb

Sevenyearshavegonebynow,yetinmymind’seyeIcanstillvividlyrecalleverydetailasifithappenedyesterday.Yoursmallroundface,neverquitecleanenough,stringyblondbangshanging over sad brown eyes. Clothes always wrinkled and too small on your bonyshoulders,andsocklessfeet insideworn-outsneakerswithnoshoelaces.Youmaintainedanalmost invisible identity, always fearful of others who whispered as you walked by andnicknamedyou“ragmuffin.”

Having a daughter your exact age made my heart ache for you even more. What if Icouldn’t afford the things formy little girl that your parents couldn’t provide for you andyour fivebrothers and sisters? Iwanted todo something tohelpbut I didn’t knowhoworwhatIcoulddo.Besides,Iwasjustyourteacher.Andthenfromoutofnowhereithitme—that’swhat Icando.Alongwith teachingyou readingandmathandspelling, I’ll teachyousome everyday skills that might improve the quality of your life and other people’sperceptionofyou.

First I had to reverse your self-induced disappearing act and make you visible again.Othersneededtoseetherealyou,aseven-year-oldboywhodidn’talwaysbehavehimselfbutwhoalwayssaidhewassorrywhenhedidn’t.Ibroughttoschoolagroomingbagcompletewithsoap,towel,comb,toothbrushandtoothpasteanddiscretelysentyoutotheboys’roomeverymorningtogetcleanedup.Iappealedtomyfriendswhohadlittleboystogivemetheirhand-me-downclothesandshoes.Sneakingcrackers intoyourbackpackforsnacktimeandsecretlypayingforyoutohave“doubles”intheschoolcafeteriabecameeverydayrituals.

Ourclassroombecameyourhomeawayfromhome,yoursafehaven,aplacewhereyoucouldescapeandbeachild,atleastforalittlewhile.Thenat3:00PMthedismissalbellwouldring.AndlikethemidnightgongthatinterruptedCinderella’sdanceattheball,Igaveyouagoodbyehugandsmileandsentyoubacktoyourworld.Theworldwhere,hopefullyunlikewhathappenedtoCinderella,Iprayedyouwouldn’tchangebackintoaragamuffin.

Iworriedaboutyouallthetime,evenontheweekends.Irememberonecool,crispNorthCarolinaSaturdaymorning,rightbeforetheweatherturnedcold;mydaughterandIwentoutshoppingforhernewwintercoat.Thiswasanannualbattlewehadengagedinsinceshewasfouryearsold.Formetheperfectwintercoathadtobelongandwoolandthickenoughtoshield her from thewinds that got bitter cold from themonths ofDecember toMarch.Anattachedhoodwouldalsobenice,sinceleavinghomewearingacapdidn’tnecessarilymean

she’dcomehomewithit.In her eyes, the perfectwinter coat had only requirement. It had to be pink.Aftermany

hoursandhundredsoftry-onswefinallyfoundacoatwecouldbothagreeon.Itwaslong,thick,hooded,andyes,itwaspink.

Filledwithasenseofaccomplishment,allIwantedtodowaspayforthecoatandhurryhometocurluponthecouchwithagoodgirlymovieorbook.Instead,forreasonsbeyondmyunderstanding,Igrabbedthepinkcoat inonehandandmydaughter ’shandintheotherandsaid,“NowwehavetogototheboysdepartmentandbuyacoatforJohnnie.”

That’swhatlifewaslikeforusduringthetwoyearsIwasyourteacher.Butitwasworthit.Thingswere definitely looking up for you.You gainedweight, you smiledmore and youevenbegantoriskraisingyourhandinclasstoanswerquestions.Youtrustedmeenough toknowIwouldalwaysleadyoutothecorrectanswer.Butyourtrustinotherswasstillalittleshakyanditwastimetofixthat,especiallysinceyouwouldbepromotedtothenextgradeandyouweren’tgoingtobemystudentnextyear.

Ibegantoplanpartnerprojectsandgroupactivitiesthatrequiredyoutocommunicatewithyourclassmatesandworkasateam.Atfirst,yourefusedtoworkwithanyoneelsebutmeandyouevengotmadatmewhenIinsistedyouworkwithsomeoneelse.Butwithalotoftimeandalotofcoaxingyoueventuallystartedtorelaxandhavetrustinyourpeers.

That is until one cool breezy fall day in November, the last school day before theThanksgivingholiday.Theclassroombuzzedwith theelectricityof childrenhardlyable tocontain theirexcitement.All theycould thinkaboutwere the intriguingadventuresawaitingthemovertheholiday.Byafternoon,withonlyonemorehourofschool,noonewasinthemood for learning. So I ditched the video ofThe First Thanksgiving, which they had seenevery November since kindergarten, and instead decided to have a sharing time whereeveryonegotachancetotellabouttheirplansfortheupcomingholiday.

You sat in your usual place, right next tome, and listenedwhile your peers told aboutcruises to theBahamas, trips toDisneyland and visits toGrandma inNewYork and otherfarawayplaces.Withnooneelselefttoshare,Iturnedtoyouandasked,“Johnnie,wouldyouliketotelluswhatyou’redoingovertheThanksgivingholiday?”

“Yes,” you said proudly. “I’m going toKernersville to visitmy aunt.” Thewordswerebarelyoutofyourmouthwhentheclasseruptedwithlaughter.EveryoneknewKernersville,about twentyminutes outside ofWinston-Salem, was nowhere special to go. You froze inembarrassmentandbegantoretreatbackinsideyourself.

Irushedtoyourrescue,“REALLY!”Iyelledoutoverthelaughter.“Wouldyoubringmebacka-a-arock,”Istuttered.“Icouldreallyuseanicerock.”Theroombecameperfectlystillwithanuncomfortablesilenceasyousilentlynodded,“Yes,Mrs.Reynolds.”

Thanksgivingbreak,likeallvacations,endedmuchtoosoon.Childrenreturnedtoschoolwithstories,picturesanditemstoshare,eachchildtryingtooutdotheotherwithtalltalesandembellishedstories.This timeIknewbetter than toput thespotlightonyouandaskyou toshare,butwithoutwarningyoustoodupandbegantoslowlywalktothefrontoftheroom.TheshockandfearIfeltforyoumademeholdmybreathsohard,Ibelievemyheartactuallyskippedabeat.Foramomentyoujuststoodtherelookingdownatyourfeetandthenwithout

sayingaword,youreachedintoyourcoatpocketandpulledoutarock.Arockwashedandpolished until it shined like a new penny, a rock just small enough for two tiny tremblinghands tohold.A rock thatneitheryounor I couldpossiblyknowwouldchangeourheartsforever.

The entire class silently awaitedmy reaction.Theywere obviously confused and takingtheircuesfrommeonhowtoreact.“WOW!”Isaid,reachingoutwiththekindofhandsusedtoholdanewborninfantorsomethingpricelessanddelicate.“It’sabsolutelyperfect.ThisisexactlythekindofrockIwashopingfor.Pleasetellusallaboutit.”

Hesitantly,youbegantotellabouttherock—whereyoufoundit—whyyouchoseit.Witheveryword,yourvoicegrewstrongerandyourstancegrewtaller.Atlonglast,alleyesandearsbelongedtoyou.Attheconclusionofyourshare,classmatesapplaudedwithenthusiasmand someone yelled out, “Johnnie, YOUROCK.” I watched you like a proudmother birdwatchesherbabybirdtakeflightfortheveryfirsttime.Iknewitwastimetoletyougo.

Finally,youhadfoundyourwingsanditwastimeforyoutosoar.NeedlesstosayIreceivedmanyrocksthatyear.Somanythatwebeganaclassroomrock

collection. Some rocks came from volcanic mountains and underground canyons. Otherrockscamefromlocalrestaurantsorarelative’sbackyard.Everyrockhadastoryandearnedanotherpushpinonthemap.Bytheendoftheschoolyeartheclasshadcollectednearlyfiftyrocksandhadlearnedmoreabouttheworldandthemselvesthananynumberofbookscouldhaveevertaughtthem.Studentsfromotherclassroomscametoknowusastherockexpertsandyou,Johnnie,youweretherockmaster.

As fate would have it, your family moved away that summer and left no forwardingaddress. So I never got to see you again or say goodbye.But the rock tradition continues.EveryyearItellthestoryof“bringmebackarock”tomynewclassofstudents.Itellthemthatallrocksfrompreviousclasscollectionsareboxedupandputawayexceptfortherockinsidethisclearplasticcube.Thisrockhasapermanentplaceonmydeskandinmyheart.AsIholduptherockIexplainthatitmaylookordinaryandinsignificantbutit’sbyfarthemostpreciousrockofthemall.Thisrockrepresentslove,courageandacceptanceofothers.Itistheveryrockthatstarteditallanditwasgiventomebysomeonewhowillalwaysbenearanddeartomyheart.

ThanksJohnnie,andwhereveryouare,“bringmebackarock.”

~AdrienneC.Reynolds

GrowingRoots

Teacherswhoinspireknowthatteachingislikecultivatingagarden,andthosewhowouldhavenothingtodowiththornsmustneverattempttogatherflowers.

~AuthorUnknown

Every morning, from the age of three to ten, I began my school day at Roots ActivityLearning Center in Washington, D.C. by singing songs that exalted the African-Americancultureandspiritofgoodness. Inone song,wesang thewords, “Weare the ‘Roots’of theflowers of tomorrow,” and in another, we sang the words, “Responsibility, Duty to ourPeople…goeshandinhandwithfreedom.”Duringthedowntimeofourday,myclassmatesandIenjoyedwhenourteacherspulledoutthe12”vinylrecordofDr.MartinLutherKing’sspeech,“I’veBeentotheMountaintop;”andweallgotchokedupeverytimewesattolistenand learn thewords toGeorgeBenson’s rendition ofMichaelMasser ’s andLindaCreed’ssong,“TheGreatestLoveOfAll.”IstillcrytodaywhenIhear:

Ibelievethatchildrenareourfuture.Teachthemwell,andletthemleadtheway.Showthemallthebeautytheypossessinside.Givethemasenseofpride,Tomakeiteasier.Letthechildren’slaughterremindushowweusedtobe.

Thosevarious teachingmethods,alongwith themulti-levelclassroomandinterdisciplinarycurriculum,createdachallengingandsafeenvironmentformetolearnandfeelloved.Thosemethodsinstilledasenseofpridewithinme,andtheyconvincedmethatmyteachersbelievedinme andmy promising future, as Iwas taught to carry the torch of the greatness of ourpeople.

My educational experience taught me that positive interactions, cultivating meaningfulrelationships, building self-esteem, and instilling pride in one’s heritage was vital to thelearningprocess.Thesecomponentsofthelearningprocessindirectlyprovidedmyteachersthe opportunity to implement best practices that ensured thatmy classmates and I excelledacademically.

Duringmymatriculation atSpelmanCollege, I read the researchofDr.EdwinNichols,who researched why and how cultural competence in the classroom looks and works by

exploringthelogicsystems,axiology(values)andepistemologicalstylesofdifferentgroups.Withthisarticle,Ilearnedthetheoriesbehindwhymyelementaryschoolwassosuccessful.Ithentookmypersonalexperience,andthetheoriesofDr.Nichols,andappliedthemduringmy first year of teaching in Brooklyn, New York, and they worked. I have used theseexperiences and methodologies to guide and influence my interactions, best practices andexpectations for the 1,200+ students I have had the honor to learn from, grow with andsuccessfullyteachoverthelasttenyears.

Sixyears intomyteachingcareer,Iwasahiredbyanadministratorofastart-upmiddleschool,whounderstood the importanceofculturalcompetence in theclassroom,and Iwasthrilled.Ireceivedsupportformyculturallyrelevant,interdisciplinarycurriculumideasandpedagogicalstyles;I receivedsupportforculturalroutinesIestablishedfor theschool;andtheeducationalpracticeofloopingwasevensupported.Looping,aneducationalpracticethatallows a class of students to be taught by the same teacher two or more years in a row,allowedmetoforgevitalrelationshipswithmystudentsandtheirparents,andtothoroughlyassess, expand and addressmy students’ academic strengths and areas of concern. I taughtthese 120 students two years in a row, teaching both English Language Arts and SocialStudies,andwe(students,parents,andmyself)enjoyedthoseyearstogethertremendously.Wechallengedeachother,supportedeachother,expandedeachother ’sminds,andaccomplishedmany unfathomable goals together.Wewere a family, bonded through our challenges andcommitmenttoseethemthrough.

Afterdevelopingathree-yearcurriculumforthisgroup,IlearnedonthefirstdayoftheirlastyearinthismiddleschoolthatIwouldnotbeloopingupwiththem.Thereareprosandcons toeveryeducationalmodel,andthatyear,ourschooldecidednot to loopmewithmystudents. Though I was disappointed by this decision, I accepted and complied with ourschool’snewapproach.

Throughout the school year, I heard stories about this group; I heard they wereincorrigible,andwereunwillingtocompleteassignmentsandtocooperate.ThatwasnotthegroupIknew,respectedandlovedsomuch.Theywereinquisitive, in-depth,eagertolearn,overachievers, funny, sensitive andperfect representationsof adolescence.Their displayofnormaladolescenttendencieswassomethingInurtured,embraced,laughedat,andallowedto“remindmeofhowIusedtobe!”

At the end of this group’s graduating year,my principal askedme to design a summercourse for a smallgroupof these risingninthgraders,whohad received failinggrades intheirEnglishandSocialStudiesclassesthatschoolyear.ThesewerestudentsthatIknewwerecapableofacademicandbehavioralsuccess,soIwasmorethanwillingtodevelopawritingseminar course, which was designed to support those rising ninth graders for ultimatepreparednessandsuccessinhighschool.Myideasandplansforthecourseblossomedintoawide-ranginginvestigationofscienceandtheenvironmentwithanemphasisonAfricanandAfrican-Americanhistoryandthewritingprocess.

I called the course I developed “African Knowledge and Action for SustainableDevelopment.”StudentswererequiredtoanalyzetenAfrican-Americanliteraryworks,attendseven intellectually stimulating nature field trips, conduct engaging hands-on science

experiments,write a standards basedELA fifteen-page research paper, design a sustainabledevelopmentinnovation,anddefendtheirpaperanddesigntoadistinguishedpanel.ThroughachronologicalandhistoricalinterpretationofAfricans’andAfricanAmericans’knowledge,useandpreservationoftheearth’snaturalresources,studentsanalyzedtheircontributionstoagricultural innovations. Through the activities provided during the seven field trips,includingtheGeorgeWashingtonCarverNatureTrailattheAnacostiaMuseum,RockCreekPark,NASAGoddardCenter,theU.S.BotanicGardens,theSmithsonianMuseumofNaturalHistory andmore, students learned about the current greenhouse effect and its causes andeffects,andwerechallengedascriticalthinkersandscientiststodeviseaplanthatensuresthepreservation of our Earth and its natural resources for future generations—“SustainableDevelopment.”

We met on weekdays and weekends, during the height of D.C.’s extremely hottemperatures, walking throughout neighborhoods, conducting experiments outside, takingpublictransportationandwalkingmilesonsomedays.Whenstudentsbecamediscouraged,Icalled them, sent encouraging texts andwent to their homes to pick them up.One student,Tony,hadhisauntcallmetotellmehecouldnotjoinusforourSaturdayfieldtriptotheU.S.BotanicGardens.Iemphasizedtheimportanceofthefieldtrip,andhereluctantlyshowedup.Attheendofthetrip,Tonyravedabouthowmuchfunthefieldtripwas,abouthowmuchhehadlearned,andthevaluableideashegainedfromtheexperience.WhenIdroppedhimoff,hesaidtome,“Thankyou,Ms.Worthy,forrefusingtoletmemissthisfieldtrip.”

Despite those who believed I was crazy for having such high expectations for thesestudents,injustsixweeksmysummerschoolstudentsaccomplishedtheseloftygoals!

That summer we had fun together; we learned about our people, our environment andourselves. We challenged ourselves, and applied our knowledge to real-life problems. Idemonstratedthatteachingisnotimpartingknowledgetoabunchofemptyvessels.Teachingisestablishingrelationships,instillingasenseofpride,challengingstudents,buildingontheirprior knowledge, showing the usefulness of knowledge and the fun in learning, whileempoweringstudentswithemotionalstrength,academicskillsand information theyneed tobesuccessful.

More importantly, that summer I reminded those rising ninth graders what they werecapableofdoing.IremindedthemthattheywereNOTthosefailinggradestheyreceivedinEnglishandSocialStudies,but that theyareapartofacontinuumofAfricanandAfrican-Americangenius.Bybelievinginmystudents,insistingthattheyexceedmyexpectationsandsupportingthemacademically,culturallyandemotionally,Iactualizedthewordsofthatsongmy teachers at Roots required me learn, and my students learned the importance of “TheGreatestLoveOfAll!”

~KimberlyA.Worthy2009Washington,D.C.StateTeacheroftheYear

SocialStudiesteacher,grade7

THEGREATESTLOVEOFALLWordsbyLINDACREEDMusicbyMICHAELMASSER

©1977(Renewed)EMIGOLDHORIZONMUSICCORP.andEMIGOLDENTORCHMUSICCORP.ExclusivePrintRightsAdministeredbyALFREDPUBLISHINGCO.,INC.

AllRightsReservedUsedbyPermission

QueenAct

Teachingshouldbefullofideasinsteadofstuffedwithfacts.~AuthorUnknown

WhenIdreamedofbecomingateacher,IoftenthoughtabouttheimpressionIwouldmakeonmystudents.Then I started teachingand soon learned that the studentswereactually theoneswhomadeanimpressiononme.

Myfirstdayasateacher,Idrovetoschoolat5AMinmyon-its-deathbedNissan,neverbefore having the specific swirl of emotions thatwere flowing throughmy inner core. InthreehourstherewouldbetwentyfifthgradestudentsfillingtheclassroomthatIhadworkedon tirelessly in the two weeks since I had been hired. That thought brought with it anemotionaltsunamiofpanic,excitementandnauseaallwrappedupinone.

IwastoldIhada“sweetgroupofkids”bytheirfourthgradeteachers,andaftermakingitthroughthatfirstdayunscathed,Ifoundthistobetrue.Iquicklygrewtoloveeachchildinmyclassroom, treasuring every note, drawing, smile and hug. I told them, “You are my firstclass,andIdon’thaveanychildrenofmyownyet,soyouaremyfirstkids.”Iwasgratefulformylifeasateacher.

Therewasjustoneproblem.Itwasastruggletokeepthestudents’attention,acomplaintIheardoftenfromotherteachers.Wefoundithardtocompetewiththeendlessstreamoffast-pacedtechnologythatfilledtheirlives.Iworkedhardtomakeinnovativelessonplansandhadstructureandadisciplinesystemthatwasmotivatedbyrewards.Still,thereweredaysIfrettedabout their inattention; how could I make a difference in their lives if they weren’t evenlisteningtowhatIwassaying?

Theyearprogressed,andwebegantoswitchclasseswiththeothertwofifthgrades.Asthesocial studies teacher, Iconstantly rackedmybrain thinkingofexcitingways topresent thematerial.Itdidn’thelpthatthewholefifthgradesharedonesetofancienttextbooks.Itcametimeto teachtheAmericanRevolutionandIwonderedhowIwouldconnectsomethingthathappenedover200yearsearliertothestudents’lives.AnotherteachersuggestedItrystagingarevolutionofmyown,andsooneMondaymorning thestudentsarrived tofindmeinanelegant purple dress with long white gloves and my roommate’s former high schoolhomecomingqueentiara.

IexplainedtothestudentsthatforafewweeksIwouldbe“queen”oftheclassroom,andtheywouldbemy“colonists.”Ipassedoutfivepenniestoallthestudentseachdayandtoldthemaslongastheykepttheirpenniesuntiltheendofclass,theywouldberewarded.Atfirst,they loved it when everyone got to exchange their pennies for Tootsie Rolls. As the unit

progressed, Ibegan taxingapenny togo to the restroomor sharpenapencil atother thandesignated times. The tax curbed distractions because students didn’t want to give up theirdaily reward fora fewminutesofplaytime in the restroom.Then,mysystem tooka sharpturn.

“Takingcareofthekingdomisquiteexpensive,”Itoldthestudents.“Ineedyourpenniestobuildanewroad.”Iwouldpassoutaquizandexplainthatpaperwascostlyandtheywouldhave to pay a tax. “I’vedecided I need a newcrownand somehorses,” I announced to thestudents one day. “Youwill have to pay.”When indignant ten- and eleven-year-old voiceschorused, “That’s not fair!” ImimickedKingGeorge from aSchoolhouse Rock video andsaid(inmybestBritishaccent),“Idon’tcare!”

AttimesIwouldstepasidefrommyqueenacttogivethe“colonists”advice.“Thinkaboutwhattheearlycolonistsdidtosolvetheirproblemswiththetaxes.Whatcanyoudothatmightconvince the queen to stop taxing you?” The unit took twists and turns thatweren’t inmylesson plans, but I let the lessons unfold without concern over everything turning out aspecificway.Forthefirsttimethatyear,Isawstudentspawingthroughtheirtextbooks.Onestudentevensaid,“Thisiscool.Wearelearningandhavingfunatthesametime.”

Thenthestudentsledacraftyrevoltagainstthetaxes.Iwasfranticandsickonemorningwhen I discovered my roommate’s irreplaceable tiara was missing. Then two studentsreturned it, confessing that they had abscondedwith the crownwhile Imade copies beforeschool.Othersmadesignsthatsaid“Nomoretaxes!”and“OffwiththeQueen’shead!”andformedapicketlineintheclassroomonemorning.Theirchantsof“Nomoretaxes!”broughtotherteachersandstudentstoourdoor.Myprincipalcamebyandsaid,“Theywillrememberthisfortherestoftheirlives.”

Finally,afterinvolvingtheirparentsandreadingtheirtextbooks,eachofthethreeclasseswrote a Declaration of Independence and each student signed it.We talked about how theoriginalthirteencolonieshadfoughtalong,hardwarforfreedom,butthattheroadtolibertystartedwithacourageousdeclarationtobefree.

Through thatunit, thestudents taughtmehow tobeabetter teacher. I realized that if thestudentscouldseehowtheirinputinfluencedtheclass,theywouldbeengaged.Ialsolearnedthatsometimeswhenteachersdon’tthinktheirstudentsarelistening,theyreallyare.Iknowthisbecauseofwhathappenedyearslater.

Attheendofeachschoolyeartherewasan“eighth-gradewalk”inwhichtheentireschoolwalked past all the graduating eighth graders to congratulate them. When my first-yearstudentshadtheirturnaseighthgraders,Ialmostmadeittotheendofthelinewithoutgettingemotional.Andthenonestudentsaid,“Wewereyourfirstkids,Ms.Miracle.”AsIproceededdown the hall, the walls and floor became a blur, and it was hard to keep from gettingcompletelychokedup.

Later,whenmy first studentsweregraduating fromhigh school, the laborpains formyfirst childwere starting.Those first fewdays that I heldmynewborn son inmy arms,mythoughtsdriftedtothenewgraduatesandmyfirstdaysofteachingthem,andIwonderediftheyrememberedtheir“insurgence”againstanewqueenwhowastryingtogettheirattention.

Whenmy sonwas born I resigned frommy teaching job to care for him.Now almost

everydayIthinkaboutmystudentsandthewaytheyshapedmeintothepersonandparentIhave become. Sometimes I see my old students in public and am greeted with “Hey, Ms.Miracle!”eventhoughmynamechangedtoMrs.Lewisyearsago.Manyofthemtoweraboveme,andsomearepreparingtograduatefromcollegeandgetmarried.Iamnotsure ifmyprincipal was right; I guess I will never know if my students remember the days of ourrevolution.However,Iamcertainofonething.Thequeenwillneverforget.

~JaneenLewis

MakingaDifferenceinOurCommunity

Maturitybeginstogrowwhenyoucansenseyourconcernforothersoutweighingyourconcernforyourself.~JohnMacNaughton

Asa teacher, ithasbeenmygoal toenablemystudents tobecomeactiveandparticipatingcitizensintheircommunity,thenation,andtheworld.MargaretMeadoncesaid,“Neverdoubtthat a small groupof thoughtful, committed citizens can change theworld. Indeed, it is theonly thingthateverhas.”Throughout theyears,mystudents inaK-8ruralschoolofabout180havemadegreatdifferences inourcommunity.But saving liveswasnot reallyonouragenda.

InJanuarythestudentsaskedwhyIwasupset,soIsadlytoldthemthestory.AsthewifeofaMarineofficer, IhadmovedfifteentimesbeforesettlinginBozeman.Ihadneverhadtheopportunitytowatchchildrengrowupsincewemovedsofrequently.NowthatIwassettled,Ihadwatchedmyyoungneighborchangefromarambunctiouseight-year-oldtoasophomoreincollege.Whilewewereathisparents’homeforaChristmasparty,therewasaphonecallstating that he had hit his head while ice skating; it was really nothing, but they weretransporting him to the emergency room just in case. That evening hewas airlifted to thenearesttraumahospitalanddiedafewdayslater.

Oneofmysixth-gradestudentshadbeenattherinkwhentheincidenthappened.Theclassdecided to investigate head injuries. When my students became aware of the dangers oftrauma to the heads of children, they did extensive research before deciding that the bestsolutionwasahelmetpolicythatwouldrequireallstudentstowearahelmetiftheyrodetoschool on a bike, skateboard, or roller blades. They chose to begin with their immediatecommunity so they testified before the school board and got the policy passed. Then theysecuredagranttopurchasemorethan100helmetsatareducedratesotheycouldbesoldfor$5.00orgivenfree tostudents.Theystockedtheofficewithextrahelmetsandhadayoungmanfromthebicycleshopfiteachhelmetproperlytotheheadofthestudent.

AfterSpringBreakthatyear,amothercametoourclasstotellthestudentsthattheyhadsaved her daughter ’s life.With tears in her eyes, she said that her children had taken theirbikesandnewhelmets toGrandma’shouse.Whiletheywereridingtheirbikesdownahill,herdaughterhitaparkedcar.Theemergencyroomdoctorsaidthatwearingthehelmethadpreventedseverebraindamageordeath.

In 2006, my sixth graders concluded that our greatest need was a playground for the

community.Theyexaminedtheproblem,developedsomealternativesolutions,chosethebestpolicy, and then testified before the school board. Those twenty sixth-grade studentscommittedthemselvesforthenextthreeyearstomakeourplaygroundagatheringplaceforthe community and a learning center for NativeAmerican Culture.We obtained a ServiceLearningGrant,andweinvolvedthecommunity.

The result was that the students helped design and construct an eight-sided climbingstructure to be used by all ages. After tightening the last bolt in the midst of a springsnowstorm, they were ready to take the next step. They selected and ordered playgroundequipment,anditarrivedoverthesummerandwasinstalled.Wewereabletosecureanothergrant,whichallowedthemtofundtheirnextsection,twocircuitcourses(ages5-12andadult)withNativeAmericanlearningstations.TheMontanaConservationCorpshelpeduswiththeinstallation. We also completed the final phase, a running activity, right before theirgraduation.FortheireffortstheseyoungstudentswereawardedtheSpiritofServiceAwardin2008fromtheCorporationforNationalandCommunityService.

Throughout theyears,mystudentshavebecomeproblemsolversandparticipants inourcommunity. In 2001, my class asked the school board to pass a policy requiring servicelearning tobepart of the curriculum for every student ingradesK-8.Little did theyknowwhat theywerebeginning,for the implicationsforourcommunityhavebeenastoundingasourstudentslearnandserve.Someoftheiraccomplishmentshavebeen:gettingapathalongthe road to school constructed, changing the lunchprogram, establishing a track program,introducingtheconceptofafour-dayschoolweekandalteringthenumberofdaysweattendschool, testifying in front of the city council to secure restrooms in the downtown area,askingthecountycommissionerstoabandonaroad,demonstratingtheneedtoinstallearlywarningandsafetymeasuresatalocaldam,testifyingabouttheneedforanewjailbeforethecrimeboard,andpersuadingtheschoolboardtocreateabreakfastprogram.

Eachof these ideaswasselected, researched,andpresentedby thestudents.Myrolewasthat of facilitator. In September 2008,Gallatin County accepted a $267,206 grant from theDepartment ofHomelandSecurity to institute themeasures concerning the dam,whichmystudents firstbrought to theirattention in2006.Yes, I trulybelieve thateleven-and twelve-year-oldstudentscanmakeadifferenceastheybecomeempoweredandengagedcitizensinthecommunity.

~SallyJ.Broughton2009MontanaStateTeacheroftheYear

LanguageArts,SocialStudiesteacher,grades6-8

TheBeatnikofLincoln

Alltheworldisalaboratorytotheinquiringmind.~MartinH.Fischer

Theedgesoftheaqua-colorednotebookhaveeroded,exposingthehardcardboardbase.Thecoveriswrinkledandsmudgedwithbrownmarkings.Thebinderishideouslycorroded.

I open it, andmy nasal passages are filled by an overpowering,musty scent—the samescentIusedtonoticewhenIlookedthroughtheDepression-erabooksinmygrandmother ’supstairs roomduring the1960s.Except that this is2009,and thisbook is fromthe1967-68schoolyearatAkronElementaryinAkron,Pennsylvania.

Thehand-drawntitlepagesaysANIMALSONOURPLANET.Belowthataredrawingsofaworm,afrog inmid-flightanda jellyfishwithominous-looking tentacles.Thenexteightpagesdescribeand illustrate “Experiment:TheDevelopmentof anAnimal.”Theyendwithmyimpressionsofthefinalresult:“Threechickswerehatching.Wewereexpectingmore.At1:25PM,twochickswerewalkingaround.TheyhatchedonFeb.25.Themembranestucktoonechick.Thefirstthreedozenwereduds.”

Thenext271pagesareamixtureofinformation,notesandintricatelycoloreddrawingsofanimals—everythingfromaCeratoidAnglertoaSwinhoe’sPheasant.Theydon’t looklikedrawingsIcouldhavemadeatageten—orevennow.

Thenotebooktells thestoryofapassionate,compassionate teacherwhobroughtsciencealiveforastudentwhohadn’tcaredwhetheranautilushadtentaclesortwelve-inchwings.Ittellsthestoryofarecentcollegegraduatewhodaredtodefyconventionandconservatism.Ittellsthestoryofagrandexperimentthat,insteadofblowinguplikeliquidnitrogenatroomtemperature—assomefellowteacherssuspected itmight—blossomedintoan incomparablybeautifulcanvasoffragrant,tropicalflowersthatwouldbeforeverpreserved.

AaronHostetterarrivedatAkronElementary in thefallof1967,a twenty-three-year-oldfresh out of nearbyElizabethtownCollege.He energetically stalked the room in his suedejacket,thetailflappingwildlybehindhim.Hewouldhavebeenuniqueifhehadsimplybeenthefirstmale teacher in theschool’shistory.Butfromtheverybeginning,everybodyknewtheyhadstumbleduponanunabashedmaverick,apowerfulprodigy,a truevisionary.“TheBeatnikofLincoln,”theyhadcalledhiminhisteenageyearsinthenearbytownofLincoln.

He didn’t really teach from a textbook. He reached deep into his soul and summonedeverythinghecouldoffertoigniteourimagination.

We didn’t report to a classroom every morning. We enthusiastically returned to aninteractive laboratory/jungle bustling with discovery and fascination. It looked like it had

been designed through a collaboration of a mad scientist and the creator of The AddamsFamily.You’dwalkinandthink,“Waitasecond.Where’sMorticia?”

Hestockedafifty-gallonaquariumwithmorevarietiesofgold-fishthanwehadeverseen—Black Moor, Fantail, Lionhead, Oranda, Ryukin—and we were responsible for feedingthem.Next to thatwasanaquariumwithablacksnake.Geraniumswereplantedaround theroom.

Inthebackoftheroomwasapiano,whichhe’doccasionallyplayforus.Buttogettoit,you practically had to hack your way through vegetation with a machete—it had beenbookendedwithamassivebananatreeandafour-footPhilodendron.Hehadwantedtomajorinmusic in college, but decided on biology.He endedup givingus both disciplines—withgusto.

Inthisstimulatingplace,oursenseswereheightenedinwayswehadneverfelt.Andhedidn’tfeellikeheneededtokeepusconfinedtotheroom,asstimulatingasitwas.

Ifthespiritmovedhim,we’dbreakfromalessonandtaketheclassroomoutside.Onetimehemarchedusoutsideandwehadanairplane-making/throwingcontest.I’msureMr.Hostetterthrew in a lesson about aerodynamics andphysics to justify the excursion and fendoff thecomplaintsofafewoutragedfellowteachers—andtheydidcomplain.

That’s why the students in the other fifth-grade class—taught by a veteran teacher withrestraint,definedborders,andconventionalwisdom—wereinsanelyjealousofus.

“Whatdidyoudothismorning?”oneofthemwouldaskmeduringlunch.“Wewentoutsideandstudiedthemovementofearthworms,”I’dreply.“Youdidn’t!”“Yes,wedid!Fortwohours!Na-na-na-na-na-na!”IwantedverymuchtopleaseMr.Hostetter.IwantedtodomyverybestbecauseIknewhe

caredsopassionately.That’swherethataqua-colorednotebookcamein.He’dusehisprodigiousartistictalentto

drawamultitudeofanimalsforustostudy.Thenhe’dmimeographthesheets,givethemtousandtellustoputtheminourbinder.Hehadamasternotebookthatshowedusexactlyhowitshouldlookafterweusedcoloredpencilstodepicteachanimal’scharacteristics.He’dgiveusone-on-one instruction, telling us the sequence in which we should apply the shadings inordertogetitjustright.

I was one of the students whowanted to get it just right. He’d complimentme, saying,“Ricky, I love the way you did the purple and black shading on that Blue Mud Dauber ’swings!”

Attheendoftheyear,allofuswerecrestfallen.Wehadalwayswantedtobustoutofthatschool and frolic in the summer heat. Not now.We knew he had to set us loose, but thegoodbyesseemedcruellypainful.

Thenextyear,IsawMr.HostetterjustabouteverydayinthehallsofAkronElementary,andIrememberbeingfilledupwithwarmththatseemedtoemanatefrommyverycore.Butinseventhgrade,IwasshuttledofftoEphrataJuniorHighSchoolandenteredtheworldofbus rides, lockermates and corporate, schedule-oriented education.After college, ImovedawayfromPennsylvaniaforeverandhadlittlecontactwithanyonefrommyschooldays.

IalwayswonderedwhathappenedtoMr.Hostetter,soIcalledAkronElementaryearlyin2009.Much tomysurprise, thesecretaryknewexactlywhohewas—shesaidhehad taughtthereuntilhisretirementin2002.Muchtomydistress,shesaidhehadpassedawayin2006.Shepromisedtotrackdownsomeformerteachersandaskthemtocallme.

Twodayslater,thephonerang.“ThisisJaniceHostetter,AaronHostetter ’swidow.”Overthecourseofthenextweek,wetalkedthreetimesforatotalofmorethantwohours.

We laughedandwecried.She toldme somany things Ididnotknow, somany things thatopenedanewwindowintohissoul.

She said thatwhenhe retired, the school constructed awoodenbenchwith a plaque justoutside the entrance, and dedicated it to him while 200 current and former teachers andstudents looked on. She said that she is still working through profound stages of grief.Sometimes,onadifficultday,shewilldrivefivemilestoAkronElementaryandsitonthatbench.

“Justtobeclose,”shesaid.Itoldhernothingwouldmakemehappierthantojoinheronthatbench.

~RickWeber

RealWorldMath

Ifyou’regoingtobethinking,youmayaswellthinkbig.~DonaldTrump

Itwasmyfirstyearasamiddleschoolmathteacher,andinanefforttomotivateandengagemystudents,Idesignedandimplementedaclassroommoneysystem.Eachday,studentswhocametoclasspreparedearnedasalaryoftwenty-five“royal”dollars.Fromthesalaryearned,the students paid monthly rent on their chairs and taxes on their classroommaterials.Mygoals for theprogramwere tohelp students learn the importanceof financialmanagementwhilealsopromotingpositiveclassroombehavior.

Igavestudentsdailyopportunitiestoearnadditionalsalaryintheformofbonuses,suchastendollars forcatchingmyerrors, fiftydollars forgoodmathematicalarguments,andonehundreddollars for acing an assessment. Students deposited anymoney they earned in ourclassbank.Asthebanker,Imaintainedtheaccountsandnotifiedstudentsofdangerouslylowbalances.Afterall,studentsknewwhathappenedinthe“realworld”whenyoudidn’thavethemoneytopayrent,andnonewantedtobeevictedfromhisorherchair.

Iexplainedthatattheendofeachquarter,afterthestudentspaidtheirrent,taxesandanyfines, theycouldusediscretionarymoney tobidon items in a class auction.Auction itemsvaried from quarter to quarter, but typical fare included small trinkets, snacks, and schoolsupplies.

Mysystemworkedbeautifully.Thestudentswerefullyengaged,especiallywhenIbegantodistribute cash bonuses. I decided I could also minimize classroom disruptions if I leviedfines.Studentssoonrealizedthatuseofinappropriatelanguageorarrivingtardytoclasswasnotfinanciallybeneficial.

ThreeweeksintoschoolMayrametmeatthedoorwithaquestion.“Howmuchwoulditcosttobuymychair?”“Buyyourchair?”“Well, if I couldbuymychair, Iwon’thave topayyou rent eachmonth.Then I’ll have

moremoneytospendattheauction.”“That’sreallygreatthinking,”Ireplied.“LetmethinkaboutitandI’llletyouknow.”Iquicklycalculatedareasonablepurchasepriceandannouncedtotheclass,“Ifyouprefer

tosaveyourmoneyandpurchaseyourchair,youcanbuyitforsixhundreddollars.”Mayra’shandimmediatelyshotup.

“SoifIsitonthefloorfortwentymoredays,I’llhaveenoughmoneytobuymychair.CanIdothat?”

Withoutfullyprocessingtheimplicationsofherplan,Iresponded,“Absolutely!”Sheandseveralofhertablematesbegantogathertheirmaterialsandrepositionthemselves

onthehard,woodenfloorofourclassroom.Ithoughttomyself,“Thiswillneverlast.Theywillbebackintheirchairswithinafewminutes.”

I certainly underestimated the resolve of middle school penny pinchers. Not only didMayraandhercrewlastthehour,theyresumedtheirpositionsthefollowingday,withseveralpeers joining in.By theendof theweek,almost theentireclasshadselectedseatingon thefloor.Eachday,Isteppedprecariouslyoverstudentstoreachthosewhohadquestions.Whileit was slightly inconvenient for me, I reminded myself that these students were making aconsciousdecisiontobefrugalwiththeirmoney.

ThefollowingTuesdaywasOpenHouse.Parentafterparentflowedintomeettheteacherwhowaschargingrent.Theyrelayedstoriesofenthusiasmfortheprogramfromboththeirperspectiveandtheirchild’s.“Thankyoufor teachingmychild thevalueofmoney!”wasacommonrefrain.Iwasnowmoremotivatedthanevertocontinue.

Twoweekslater,Mayraarrivedatmydoorannouncing,“Today,Icanbuymychair!”Ilookedatthehandwrittenledgersheexcitedlyheld.Withnodirectionfromme,shehad

recordedeachdepositshehadmadetothebank.Afterverifyingheraccounting,Iannouncedcongratulationstoher.Sheproudlytookher“purchased”seatatherassignedtable.

At theendofclass,Mayraapproachedmewithanotherquestion,“Now,canIsavemoremoneyandbuyJosé’schair,andthenchargehimhigherrent?”

I laughed.Clearly,mygoalof improvingfinancialmanagementhadbeenmetbyat leastoneofmystudentsandI’msurethoseskillswillserveherwellinthefuture.

~HeatherSparks2009OklahomaStateTeacheroftheYearAlgebra,Pre-Algebrateacher,grade8

EyeSeeYou

Visionistheartofseeingwhatisinvisibletoothers.~JonathanSwift

Iwalked intoawild third-gradeclassroom.Musicwasplaying loudly,childrenwereundertablesapplyingmake-up,kidswere throwinga football indoors,andstudentsweredancingwherevertheycouldfindspace.Iwasamid-yearreplacement.Thepreviousteachersaidhecouldnolongermanagethesechildrenandresignedwithoutnoticeduringtheholidaybreak.

AssoonasIwalkedintheroom,Irealizedwhyheleft.I sat downquietly inmychair andbegan reading their names softly.After eachname, I

prayed,askingGodtohelpmeunderstandthatchild.Ithennailedamirrortothewallnexttothechalkboardandbeganwritingmynameanda

readingassignmentontheboard.Ithenaskedeachchildtocometome,tellmetheirnameandwhattheywantedtolearn.It

wasadifficulttask,becauseonlytwochildrentherewantedtolearnanything!Ruleswereset,boundariesestablished,parentscontacted.Butthemirrorsavedtheday—

no,theyear!Unbeknownsttothechildren,themirrorallowedmetoseetheireverymovewhileIwas

writing on the board. They soon became puzzled as to how I knewwhowasmisbehavingwhileIwaswritingontheboard.Whenonestudentfinallyaskedme,ItoldhimIhadaspecialteacher ’seyeinthebackofmyheadthatmyhaircovered.

At first theydidnotbelieveme.But theydidbegin to exhibitbetterbehavior, especiallywhileIwroteontheboard,thinkingIhadmagicalvision.

Inevertoldthemdifferently.Whymessupagoodthing?

~MalindaDunlapFillingim

GiftsforJace

Thegivingofloveisaneducationinitself.~EleanorRoosevelt

I’llnever forget theday thatoneofmystudents shyly raisedhishandandsaid thathehadneverreceivedagift.Myshockedfifth-graderswerediscussingareadingstoryaboutaboywhowasnotgoingtobegettinganythingforhisbirthdaybecausemoneywastightthatyear.Even though this classwas very open during reading discussions, Jace’s honesty surprisedevenme.Whatwasevenmoreeye-openingwas thefact that thissweet, fifth-gradeboyhadgonetenyearsandneverexperiencedthejoyandsurpriseofreceivingapresent.

I searchedmy internal data bank for a reason that hemight be saying this.Did hewantattentionfromhispeers?No,thatwasdefinitelynothisstyle.Washeexaggerating?Again,hewasnotthetype.ThenIrememberedhisstory.Hismotherwasoutofthepictureandhelivedalonewithhisdad.Hisfatherhadahardtimeholdingdownajob,andcometothinkofit,Ididn’tseehisfatheratenrollmentorparent-teacherconferences.EventhoughontheoutsideJacewasabitdisheveled,healwayscametoschoolwithasmileandsincereenthusiasmforlearning.

AcoupleofweeksafterJace’scomment,hewasabsentfromschool.Thishappenedtobethe day Iwas sending home the annual note about the classroomChristmas gift exchange.Traditionally,eachboywastobringagift foraboyin the three-dollarrangeandthesamewastrueforeachgirl.

Aswewerediscussingthespecifics,agirlraisedherhandandmatter-of-factlysuggestedthat we do away with our traditional policy, and each buy a gift for Jace instead. TheenthusiasmgrewasthestudentsdiscussedthekindsofthingstheyknewJacewouldlike,suchasartsuppliesandStarWarsfigurines.Wetookaquickvoteandunanimouslyagreedtogoaheadwiththiswonderfulidea.

Withgreatexcitement,thegiftsbegantocomein.Studentswithbrighteyeswouldeagerlytellmehowtheyfoundthe“perfectgift”andhowtheirparentsspentmorethanthreedollarson Jace’s gift! One student bought a complete art set, knowing that Jace loved to draw.Another student found toy aliens for him, remembering a paper Jace had recently writtenaboutalienswherehesurprisedusallwithapaperplatespaceshipprophehadmade.Asthegiftspouredin,Irememberbeingsoproudofmythoughtful,selflessstudentswhoweretrulydemonstratingthespiritofChristmas.

Afterseveraldaysofabsences,youcanimagineourdisappointmentwhenwelearnedthatJace’s absences were due to the fact that he had moved away! I was sure of one thing. I

couldn’tletmystudentsorJacedown.Ifoundmyinformationsheetandcalledeverynumberlisted.Apparently,Jace’sfatherhad

lost his job, causing them to relocate. No one knew where they were, and the cell phonenumber I had would ring with no response despite my continuous efforts. Even into ourChristmas vacation, I constantly gave the phone number a shot. Finally, at 9:30 PM onChristmasEve,Idecidedtotryonelasttime.Bythen,Ireallydidn’tworryaboutcallingatalatehour.IwassousedtonoanswerthatIwasstartledtoheararesponse.Amazingly,Jaceansweredthephone!

IexplainedthestorytoJaceandtoldhimhowhisclassmatesreallywantedtodothisforhim.IspokewithhisfatherandthenextthingIknew,IwasdrivingtoJace’shome.

AsIdrovedownhisroad,Isawtheporchlightofhistrailerflickingonandoffsignalingwhichhomewashis.IwasthrilledtoseeJace.Ittookseveraltripsbackandforthtomycartogetallofthegiftsinside.Wefilledtheroomwithallofthecarefullywrappedgiftsthatwereespeciallyforhim.Hewassosurprisedandgrateful.IwasgladthatIhadanunopenedboxofchocolates that Icouldgive tohisdad. Jace’s joyful smile thatevening litup thesky likeastrandoftwinklelights.

I went to sleep that night thinking about Jace and all of the fun he was going to haveplayingwithallofhisnewpresentsduringChristmasbreak. I thoughtaboutmy thoughtfulstudentsandhowexcitedIwastotellthemallaboutfindingJace.Withasmileofmyown,Iwasthankfultobeapartofoneofthemostimportant“lessons”oftheirlives.

~AngelaN.Abbott

Thanks,INeededThat

Iamindebtedtomyfatherforliving,buttomyteacherforlivingwell.

~AlexandertheGreat

TheLesson

Teachingisnotalostart,buttheregardforitisalosttradition.~JacquesBarzun

OnthesoutheastcornerofStarRidgeRoadandRoute6inBrewster,NewYork,arundownATIgasstationbeckonstravelersnorthandsouth,eastandwest.Twomightyinterstatescrossnearbyandthesteadydroneoftheirtrafficisaconstantpresence.Brewsterisasmallbordertown,lyingonanimaginarydividebetweenupstateNewYorkandwhatat timesseemsliketherestoftheworld.TheATIisacatchallkindofjoint,athrowbacktotheoldgarage-stylecoffee stopsof ruralAmerica,onlymaybenotaspicturesque.Hard to findoneof these inupscale Westchester County just across the line to the south. Way too grassroots forWestchesterCounty.

Inside, there isnoplace to sit, onlynarrowaisles and shelves crammedwith everythingfromimportedEnglishchocolatestoengineoil.Youcangetgood,hotcoffeeatallhours,afreshdoughnut,oranicybeerfortheroad.Ihavetwofriendswhoworkthemorningsthere.Gus,theowner,isasoft-spokenmanfromIndiawhohandlestheregisterandmakesthebestfried egg sandwich in Brewster. And Page, a robust horseman in his sixtieswith a round,friendlyfaceandeyesthatsmileatyouwhenhespeaks,greetseveryonewhocomesthroughthedoor.That’sbecausePageknowseveryonewhocomesthroughthedoor.

“How are things up on thatmountain?” hewould inquire loudly, referring to the smallprivateschoolwhereIworkinKent,Connecticut.Thecampusoccupiesoverseventyacresontopofoneofthetallestmountainsinthestate.

“Justfine,”wasmyusualreply.OnlythisparticularSaturdaymorninginFebruarythingsweren’treallyfine.IhadleftmyhouseinNorthSalemafewmilesaway,at6:45AMinafoulmood.Afteralongweek,theconsiderabledemandsofaboardingschoolhadspilledovertooneofthoseperiodicweekendswhenyoupullextraduty.AndIwastheWeekendHead,forgodsakes, nogettingout of that.A shepherdwith a flockofprecious, needy sheep to tend,feed,entertain,andgettobedontime.Andheavenhelpyouifyouloseone.AllthewaytotheATIstationIgrumbledabout thisandthat, themortgagepayment, theleakingceilinginmykitchen, how little I see ofmy family. Imulled overmy uncertain future as a teacher andquestioneddecisionsmadeyearsbeforewhenIchosetogivetheprofessionatry,decisionswhichwererepeatedlychallengedbymanyclosetome.

“Thosewhocan,do,andthosewhocan’t,teach,”aformeracquaintanceintheadvertisingbusiness once snickered when told I was taking a hiatus from writing film stories andtelevisionshowstoteach.

“Really?”Ihadansweredgliblywhilewonderingwhyhedidn’tsaythattoJohnIrving,orGardner, Oates, and Galbraith. Or why not insult the ghosts of C. S. Lewis, Tolkien orWilliamH.Armstrong,whowroteSounder and taught at theKentSchool in the valley foryears?Thelistcouldgoonandon.Allteachersandhugelysuccessfulwriterswhoseworkshave impactedgenerations.On second thought, the “cream-fac’d loon”hadprobablyneverheardofthem.

So itwaswithasenseof relief that Icarriedmytroubles into theATI thatmorning toachorusofgreetingsfrommysmallfraternity.PagepouredcoffeeinmytravelcupandstoodwithmewhileIwaitedtopayGusatthecounter.Aswechattedabouttheschoolandwhosehorseshewasexercisingthatday,Inoticedamancomethroughthedoorandmakehiswayover to the coffeemachine.Hewas older, perhaps seventy, dressed for theweatherwith awoolencappulleddownontoakind,unshavenface.Whenhehadfinishedhetookhisplaceinline,listeningcasuallytoourconversation.IhadjuststartedcomplainingtoPageaboutmyschedulewhenthegentlemanwiththewoolencapsuddenlyleanedin.

“Youworkwithkids?”hesaid,lookingatmewithdeep,inquiringeyes.“Yeah.”“Youateacher?”“Yes.”“Whatdoyouteach?”“English… mostly.” My voice trailed away, almost apologetically. I felt slightly

uncomfortable.Henodded,tookabeat,thenthrustouthishand.“Thanks.”Istoodthere,wonderingfirstifIhadinadvertentlypaidforhiscoffeeorsomething.Then

itdawnedonme.HewasthankingmeforwhatIdo,forteaching.Slowly,Ireachedoutandshookhishandbutcouldn’tmanagetosaymorethansomethingmuffledandindistinct.Iwasutterly taken back by this complete stranger. No one had ever… he slapped me on theshoulder,handedGusfourquarters,turnedandwalkedout.

TherearestretchesonRoute22wheretheroadisaglisteningribboninwinter,especiallyduring the peripheral hours of day. I drove northwith a gray, overcastmorning breaking,passingalltheoncomingcommuterspouringoutofruralPutnamandDutchessCounties.MylanewascomparativelyclearandImadegoodtimeinsilence,thinkingofnothingotherthanwhatwastome,atleast,anextraordinaryactofgenerosity.ForthefirstfewmilesIwasfine.Andthen,fromsomewhereforeignandwithnowarning,arushofemotionpouredthroughthe cracks of what used to be my very formidable armor. By the time I reached the littlecoveredbridgeovertheHousatonicRiverjustsouthofKent,Ihadtopullovertocomposemyself and think about the ironyofwhat hadhappened that day.Of all themornings I hadstoppedattheATIforcoffeeonmywaytoschool,nonehadbeenbluerthanthisone.Andyet,in the briefest of encounters, the immense, incandescent power of a single word changedeverything.Itwassimplymeanttobe,Iwascertain.Meanttoremindmehowmanytimesinasingle day I find solace in a glance, or a smile, or a casual touch. Gratitude in lilliputianportions,butalwaysthere.

Icheckedmywatchandknewitwastimetogo.FirstclassbeganinfifteenminutesandI

didn’twant tobelate,evenonaSaturday.AsIbackedmylittle truckoutontotheroadanddroveacrossBull’sBridge,onelastrevelationcametome.IknewthatwhenmycolleaguesandIgatherforour last facultymeeting inJuneand theHeadofSchoolaskseachofus torecall onemeaningful event thatmade our year,my responsewill be clear and succinct. Iknownow that forme, itwill have occurred not in the halls, in the classrooms, or on theplaying fields,butaway from theschool.Milesaway inBrewster,NewYork,atanoldgasstation where the coffee is always hot, the greetings easy, and where, for a moment, allthoughtsotherthanthebrilliantlyplainandsimplereasonswhyIteachfadedaway.

~WilliamBingham

AFewMinutesofKindness

Heisrichorpooraccordingtowhatheis,notaccordingtowhathehas.~HenryWardBeecher

Teachersstrivetocareequallyabouteachofthestudentstheyteach.Formostofus,however,somestudentsstandoutbecausetheyhaveprofoundlyinfluencedourlives.Yearsago,IhadayoungHispanicboyinmyfirstyearchemistryclasswhoIwillneverforget.Ourexperiencestogetherimpresseduponmethetremendousinfluencethatjustafewminutesofkindnesscanhaveonayounglife.

Juan came from a very poor, single parent home. His mother was disinterested in hiseducationandinhislifeingeneral.Throughouttheyear,InoticedthatJuanhadanunusualability to solve equations, and to correlate abstract relationships between concepts. Juanpickedupnewideasasfastasanyofmyotherstudents.Iwasshockedwhenheapproachedme after school one day to tellme that he liked chemistry, but did not think hewas smartenoughtoattendcollege.Hedidnotfeelthathismotherwouldbeinterestedinhelpinghimwithschool.Whatshouldhedowithhislife?

IexplainedtoJuanthathewasoneofmyverybeststudents.Hisfacelitupwithexcitement,and he looked at me incredulously. I proceeded to explain to him that he could apply forscholarships, loans,andfederalgrants topayforcollege. Icontinuedby tellingJuan that itwouldbeawasteofconsiderabletalentifhedidnotgotocollege.Finally,ItoldJuanthatIwouldbe teachingadvancedplacementchemistrynextyear,and Iwas reallyhoping thathewouldtaketheclass.Juanlookedasthoughhewouldneedtore-thinkhisentirelife.HetoldmethathewouldconsiderwhatIhadsaid.

Thenextmorning,Iwentoutformydailyjogaroundtheblock.IwasstartledwhenJuanappeared fromnowhereonmyfront lawn.“Hi,Mr. Johnson,”Juansaidcheerfully.“Ihavebeen thinking about what you told me yesterday, and I am going to take your advancedplacementclass.DidyouknowthatIlivejustacrossthestreet?”Ihadn’tknownthatJuanwasmy neighbor. I invited him to jogwithme, and from then on, Juanwould joinme beforeschoolseveralmorningseachweekforahalf-hourjog.Wegottoknoweachotherquitewell.WewerebothDallasCowboysfans,webothlikedtheoutdoors,andwebothlikedmathandscience.Soon,JuanwasjoiningmyfamilyforeveninggamesofMonopoly,orHearts.WhenItookmyowntwochildrenfishing,hetaggedalongandcaughthisfirstfish.

Juanwasmybeststudentthatyearinadvancedplacementchemistry.Hisskillsandabilitiescontinued to grow, and he never tired of mind-bending calculations or homework. His

confidenceincreased,andheliterallyblossomedbeforemyeyes.OtherstudentswantedtobeJuan’slabpartner,andhedevelopedintoapopularoutgoingyoungman.

As theendof theyearapproached,Juanstayedafterschooloneday to thankmeformyinterest in his life. I was profoundly moved when he told me that those fifteen or twentyminutesthatwehadtalkedthepreviousyearhadchangedhislife.Hegota5ontheadvancedplacementchemistryexamandhewasawardedenoughscholarshipassistancethathewasabletoattendthelocaluniversity.Iwasveryproudofhim,andnotsurprisedwhenhegraduatedwith a degree inChemicalEngineering.We stayed in touchover the years, and eventually,Juanmovedintothetopmanagementlevelofaninternationalcorporation.

Ihaveoftenwonderedhowbothofourliveswouldhavebeendifferenthadourpathsnotcrossed.WhenIthoughtofleavingtheteachingprofessionforacareerinmedicineseveralyearslater,Juanstoodoutinmymind.Howimportanthadmyencouragementreallybeentohim,andto thepathhewouldfollow?Thelifeofa teacher isoftena lifeofpoverty in thematerial sense. However, teachers have the unique opportunity to inspire their students toreach for the stars.What couldbe amoreworthwhile pursuit?Whocouldhaveknown theimportanceoffifteenminutesinthelifeofayoungman?IwassothankfulthatItookthetimetoencourageJuantobelieveinhimself.

MyexperienceswithJuancontributedtomydecisiontoremainintheclassroom.Myloveformystudentsandfor thesubjectI teachhascontinuedtogrowover theyears. Iconsidermyselfmost fortunate tobeachemistry teacher,and tohavebeenapartofsomanyyounglives,hopes,anddreams!Imaynotdrivethenicestcarontheblock,butIamveryrichinthethingsthatcountthemost.

~SteveJohnson2009NevadaStateTeacheroftheYear

Chemistryteacher,grades10-12

BlessedtoBeaTeacher

Thegreatestgoodyoucandoforanotherisnotjusttoshareyourrichesbuttorevealtohimhisown.

~BenjaminDisraeli

IwokeupthismorningatfiveandIthoughttomyself,“It’stimetogetup.”Then,aflashofanother thought ran throughmymind. “No.Youdonot have to get up.You’re retired.Gobacktosleep.”Icriedsilently.

ThisisthefirstdayofschoolformystudentsandIwillnotbethere,after381/2yearsofteaching. Iwillnothelpapuzzled freshmanfindhisclassroomon theoppositesideofourbuilding.IwillnotgethugsfrommyformerstudentswhoaresofullofenergyandlookingforwardtotheirSENIORyear!Thisyear,Ihavenotpreparedmyroomtogivemystudentssomethingstothinkaboutastheiryoung,open,busy,andgiftedmindswanderfromtimetotimeduringclass.

Iwillmissallofthewonderful,caring,andsmartteacherswhosograciouslysharedtheirideas,materials,laughs,stories,andfoodwithme.Iwillmissthemuchyoungerteacherswhorush up and ask for books, supplies, or somekind of support fromme, their InstructionalTeamLeader.

IwillnothavetherushofnervousnessduringthefirstfewsecondsofthatfirstclassthatgoesawayshortlyafterIsaysomethinglike,“Goodmorning!IamMrs.MargaretWilliamsandIamsohappytohaveyou,eachoneofyouinmyclass.Weareinanawesomeschoolwithawesomestudentsanditisablessingtobeyourteacher.…”

AsIturnedoffmylight(setonatimer)toreturntobedonmyfirstmorningofretirement,awarm, pleasant feeling came overme. Iwas thinking aboutmy opening statement tomyclasseswhenIsaidthatIwasblessedtobetheirteacher.Isaidtomyself,“Youareblessedtobeateacherwhoisnowblessedtobeabletoretireandworkatamorerelaxedpace.Youcandonewandspecialthingsforstudentsandforteachersthattimewouldnotallowwhileyouworked.Nomoreplanning,debates,meetings aftermeetings.Nomoregradingpapers anddoingalltheotherworkuntilJune.”

Withmyeyesclosedandasmileonmyface,IwasabouttoreturntosleepwhenIthought,“Byhelpingmycolleagueswiththeirfieldtrips,collegeprepactivities,maybehelpingnewteachersandcontinuingtocoachtheMockTrialTeam,Iamstillblessedtobeateacher…justretired.”

Being a teacher is a blessing, and an awesome responsibility.As I began to doze off, I

rememberedoneofmystudentswhocamebacktoseemetenyearsafterhewasinmyclass.HetoldmehowIhadinadvertentlychangedhislifewithafewwordsofadvicewhichatfirstIdidn’tevenremembergivinghim.

Ricky often gazed out the window during one of my ninth-grade United States historyclassesearlyinmyteachingcareer.Hewasquiet,andhisgoodgradesandmildmannerwerewhyIdidnotmovehimawayfromtheseatbythewindow.

Oneday,Ileanedoverhisshoulderandquietlyasked,“Whatareyoulookingat?Yougazeoutofthiswindowduringeveryclass.”

Hesaid,“Iamlookingattheband.”According toRicky, I said, “Ifyou like theband somuch thatyouhave to lookat them

duringthisclasseveryday,IwantyoutogodowntoMr.Overby(thebandteacher/director)and tellhim that I sentyou.Tellhim thatyouwant tobe in theband.Now turnaroundandfinishworkingbeforethebellrings.”

ThenextdayRickywenttoMr.OverbyandtoldhimthatIhadsenthimandthathewantedtobeintheband.Headdedthathedidnotknowhowtoplayanyinstrument.

WhenRickyvisitedmetenyearslater,hethankedmefortellinghimtogotoMr.Overbybecausehefellinlovewithmusicanddiscoveredthathehadmusicaltalentthathadnotbeentapped.Hismusicaltalentresultedinhimgettingascholarshiptocollege.

Rickywasmarriedandhadafamily.Heplayedinalocalbandandtheyhad“gigs”alloverthe St. Louis metropolitan area. According to him, music kept him occupied and out oftrouble,anditgavehimachancetogotocollegeandearnadegreethatnowallowedhimtoprovideforhisfamily.Mostofall,musichadbroughtgreatpleasureandsatisfactiontohislife.

AfterRickythankedme,Ipointedoutthathedidallofthehardworkittooktobecomethewonderfullytalentedpersonthathewas.Ididnotmakehimwalkdownstairstojointheband,practicehisinstrument,andgetthegoodgradesthatledtohiscollegescholarship.

RickyrespondedthatIcouldhaveyelledathimforlookingoutthewindow,ormovedhimawayfromthewindow.Instead,Igavehimanalternativethatchangedhiswholelife.

After he left, I thought about his words. Ricky’s words changed the way I looked atteachingfromthatmomentforward.IrealizedthatIwasteachingchildrenwitheverywordIsaid,everyactionItook,andwitheverydecisionImade.Mostofall,Irealizedthatthiswasafact thatwastruewhetherIdidthingsconsciouslyorunknowingly.Ricky’sstoryraisedmyteachingbar. I have sharedhis storywith new teachers and sometimeswhen Imakepublicappearances.Mostofall,IhaveneverforgottenthelessonRickytaughtme,ablessedteacher.

~MargaretWilliams2009MissouriStateTeacheroftheYear

RetiredSocialStudiesteacher,grades9-12/InstructionalTeamLeaderMockTrialTeamCoach

AWrinkledPieceofPaper

Teachersappreciatebeingappreciated,forteacherappreciationistheirhighestaward.

~WilliamPrince

Overthepastthirty-fouryears,Ihavebeenaskedmanyquestions:Howoldareyou?What’syourfavoritemovie?Butoneday,oneofmyfifthgradersaskedme,“Whydidyoudecidetobeateacher?”Thatreallymademethink.IknowthatIhavealwayswantedtobeateacher.MysisterandIplayedschooldowninthebasement.Ievenhadagradebookandplanbookattheageoftwelve.Iwasseriousaboutit.

A teacher is someone who changes or influences the lives of others. For me, AnnieSullivan,HelenKeller ’steacherwasthisperson.ItwasAnnie’scaringanddeterminationthatimpressedme.Iamlivingmydreambecauseofher.EverydayItrymyhardesttoreachboththedeafchildrenandthehearingchildreninmyinclusionclassroom.Iworktoensurethatallof my students are accepting and appreciative of each other ’s differences. I want them tounderstandthateveryoneisspecialandthateachonehassomethingtooffertoourclassroom.Throughout theyears, Ihavealsoworkedveryhard tocreateanatmosphereofacceptancewithintheentireschoolbuilding.

AnnieSullivan’scaring,dedicationandunderstandingarewhatIhavebasedmyteachingupon.Sheprovedthatbyhardworkandlookingattheindividualchild,ateachercouldmeettheneedsofeachchildandhelphim/herachievesuccess.ShetaughtmetolookfornewwaystomeetthechallengesthatIamfacedwitheachandeveryday.Shetaughtmetokeeptryingwheneverythingelseseemedtofail.Shetaughtmetolaughwithmychildren,crywiththem,tofeeltheirfrustrations,andtoexperiencetheirjoys.IknewthatIcouldmakeadifference,butitwouldtakehardwork.Iamateacher,aconfidencebuilder,acheerleader,andagoodlistener.Iamwhatevermystudentsneedmetobe.

Asteachers,westriveyearafteryeartohelpourstudentsfeelsuccessful.Wedothebestwecan to findways tomake themachieve their goals andgrowas individuals.But then therecomesonestudentthatpresentsachallenge.Afewyearsago,Ihadthatchallenge.HisnamewasDavid.Beforeschoolevenstarted,hisreputationhadprecededhim.Hehadmovedfromoneintermediateschoolinourdistrictintomine.

Imaginethefirstdayofschool.Alltheexcitedstudentswalkintotheroomeagertostart:everyone but David. He had had a hard summer. His father was in jail. This angered himbecausenowhisfamilywasnottogether.Hismotherhadtoworknights,soshewasn’tthere

intheeveningandwassleepingwhenhewokeup.Duringtheeveningshissixteen-year-oldsisterwashisguardian.Davidwasabrightstudent.Alldatashowedthathehadtheaptitude,butverylittlemotivation.

SobeganmychallengetohelpDavidachievesuccess.Ilikedhimimmediatelyandsawsomuchpotentialhiddenbehindanangrywallhehadbuiltuparoundhimself.Butastheweekswenton,Davidslowlyquitdoinghishomeworkandstayingon task,andbegan toget intomore troubleouton theplayground.Hewasgoingdownhillquickly. Itwasevident thathewas looking foranykindofattention—even if itwasnegative. I alsoknew thathewasnotgettingmuch support at home. In addition to all of that, his older brotherwas taken frommiddleschoolinhandcuffs.IfDavidwasgoingtopassthefifthgrade,Ineededtocomeupwithaplan.Ihadtolookathimasanindividualandfindoutwhatmadehimtick.

Oneday,DavidandIsatinthelibraryandjusttalked.ItoldhimthatIknewthathewasnotan“F”studentandthatIwasnotgoingtolethimfail.Itwasmyjobtoteachhim,buthisjobtotry.Wetalkedabouthomeandwhathedidafterschool.Hewantedtodowell,butschoolwasnotatoppriority.Atthispointinhislife,hewasjusttryingtosurviveemotionally.FromthenonDavidandIperiodicallysat inthelibraryandjusttalked.HeknewwhatIexpectedfromhimandthatIrespectedhimasaperson.

We also satwithMrs.McGonnell, our principal, and tried to findways to help him.HeknewbothsheandIwouldlistentohim.Wewouldnotjumptoconclusionswithouthearinghissideofastory.Consequently,hisbehaviorinmyroomimproved.Unfortunately,hewasstillveryimpulsiveatlunchandatrecess.Hewouldtalkbacktootheradults.Removinghimfromrecessdidnothelpbecausehewasaveryactivestudentwhohad trouble focusingorstayingontask.Neitherin-schoolsuspensionnorout-of-schoolsuspensionhelpedtostophisimpulsiveness.Weaskedhimwhyhehadnevertalkedbacktotheprincipalormyself.Hesaidthatwealwaystookthetimetolisten.

Onedayaswewerehaving lunch together,he toldmethathisgoalwas topass thefifthgradeand tonotbesuspended.Hewanted tobe inschool.Thereweresixweeks left to theschoolyear.So,wheneveranoutsideassignmentwasdue,Iwouldaskifhehadstarted.Ifnot,he and Iwouldwork together toget it done.Sometimes thiswasduring the school dayorafterschool.Thisseemedtowork.Davidwasverycreativeandhadgoodideas,buthedidn’tknowhowtosharethemwithagroup.Itookspecialcarewhenplacinghiminagroup.Therewerestudentsthatheworkedwellwithandtheyalsoworkedwithhim.Earlierintheschoolyear,noonewantedtobeinagroupwithhim.But,nowtheycouldseethathereallywantedtobeapartofagroup.WhenhisNatureJournalwasdue,Ihelpedhimchooseatopicandfindtheresources.InreadingwedidaLivingWaxMuseum,soImadesurehehadacostumeforhisexplorer.

Finally, the last day of school arrived.David hadmet his goals.He had passed the fifthgradeandhadnotbeensuspended.As Ihuggedhimgoodbyeand toldhim tohaveagoodsummer,IthoughtthatwouldbethelastIheardfromhim.ButduringTeacherAppreciationWeek,thestudentshadwrittenaboutanyteachertheywanted.Inmybooklet,onawrinkleduppieceofpaper,itread:“YounevergiveuponmeandfocusonthesilverliningbecauseyouknowIamsmart,andyoualwayshadthatwayofmakinglearningfunandeasyatthesame

time.AndforthatInotonlyappreciateyou,butIadmireyou.”—signedDavid.Afterreadingthat,Isatdownwithtearsrollingdownmyface.Ihadreachedhim.Heknew

that someone thought he could learn and that someonehad listened to him.That followingAugust,whowasthefirstsixthgraderthatcamebacktovisit?David,withabighug.We,asteachers,neverknowwhenorhowweaffectourstudents.Butit’sthenoteslikethisthatmakeallwedoworthwhile.

~DeborahWickerham2009OhioStateTeacheroftheYear

Elementaryteacher,grade5

ThePowerofBelief

Keepyourdreamsalive.Understandtoachieveanythingrequiresfaithandbeliefinyourself,vision,hardwork,determination,anddedication.

Rememberallthingsarepossibleforthosewhobelieve.~GailDevers,three-timeOlympicGoldmedalist

Teachersareconstantlystrivingtoteachourkidsasmuchknowledgeaspossible.However,inthemeantime,wealsohavetheopportunitytoteachthemsomuchmore.Ithasalwaysbeenmygoal, as a teacher, togetkids tobelieve in themselvesand tounderstand thatwithhardworkandapositiveattitude,theycanaccomplishalmostanything.Manytimes,inorderforstudentstobelieveinthemselves,theyfirstmustseetheirteachersbelieveinthem.Thisbeliefcanbeverypowerful,asillustratedbythefollowinge-mailIreceivedfromastudent.

Mr.Kuhlman:

I ran across your Internet site and I guess I’m just hoping you are the rightMr.Kuhlman!After thinkingabout it, I thoughtyoumightnotanswermyoriginale-mail, ifyou

rememberedme.Iwasabitofascoundrel.IwasinyourBiology,AdvancedBiology,Chemistry,andPhysics.Ihaddyedblackhair,andIguessIprobablyseemedalittle“Goth”looking.Weweretheroughcrowd.IwasacheerleaderforayearbutIdidn’ttakeanythingseriouslythen.Ineverhadapersonalconversationwithyou,butIthinkeverybodyknewIwasinto

a lot of bad things. I came from a very poor family, was involved in gang activity,abuseda lot of alcohol, and experimentedwitha lot of drugs. I got pregnant inmysenior year of high school, and the superintendent asked me to leave. I ended upgraduatingasahomeschool studentand I eventuallymarried thechild’s father.Wehavethreechildrennow.I needed to tell you that even though we never really talked, or were friends in

anywaybesidesprofessionalcordialities,youhadabiginfluenceonme.Youexpectedalotfromme.Nooneelsedid.Iwasn’tadumbkid,butIkneweveryonethoughtIwasa throwaway. In your class, it didn’tmatterwho Iwasbecause you treatedme likeeveryone else. I didn’t do homework for other classes, but I did the homework you

assigned—becauseitwasexpectedandIhadbeenbittenbythesciencebug.Ispentseveralyearsafterhighschoolputtingmyselfbacktogether.Ilearnedhow

toberesponsible,confident,andrespectauthority.Ihadtolearnitallthehardway!Ididthingslikedealblackjack,andsewblanketsandplacemats,housekeeping,etc.One thing I always remembered was a time when you were asking us what we

wanted to do when we “grew up.” When my turn came, I said I wanted to be aphysicist.Everyonelaughed,evenme.Butyoudidn’t.YousaidIcouldbeaphysicistifIwantedand youwere serious. It stayedwithme—evenwhen Iwasworking to justkeepmyheadabovewater.I ended up earning a two year degree at a Community College. The science

instructors there sawmy interest in the sciences, and I did a lot of science-relatedprojects. Now I am a senior at the university majoring in Biology, with aminor inChemistry,andsecondaryeducationlicensurerequirements.IloveteachingandIlovescience,andyou started the fireunderme toaccomplishall of this. Sure, I’mnotaphysicist,althoughI’vetakenseveralPhysicscourses—butmaybeoneofmystudentswillbe. I justwantedyou toknowthatyouhavemadeabigdifference inmy lifebydoingwhatyoudobest.Becauseofwhatyouhavedoneforme,mystudentswillhavetheopportunitytobecomescientistsandteachers,becauseofmyowndedicationtomyworkineducation.

Eventhoughthisstudentneverbecameafamousphysicist,inthatoneinstantshelearnedanadultbelievedshecouldbe.Thatoneminuteexchangebecameatippingpointforthisstudent.Shelatercommented,“Ibelievedyoubecauseyouhadastrongvaluesystem,nevercalledinsick, were always prepared, and had strict classroom standards. You had the same highexpectationsforeveryone.Forthisreason,whenyousaidsomething,Itookittoheart.Ifyousawsomethinginme,Ithought,itmustbereal.”Ireceivedthate-mailseveralyearsago,sothisstorywouldnotbecompletewithoutanupdate.

Wow,Ican’tbelievehowfasttimeflies,Ididn’trealizeithadbeenthatlongsinceIsentthate-mailtoyou.Asastudentteacher,ItaughtSciencetohighschoolstudentson theSpiritLakeNationReservation.Themajorityofmystudents therewere livingthelifeIhadgrowingup:livinginpoverty,comingfrombrokenhomesandjusttryingtomakeitdaytoday,oftengettinginalotoftroublealongtheway.IwentontoearnaMasters Degree in Biology with an Educational Leadership cognate from theUniversityofNorthDakota.Aftergraduation, Iwashiredas theScienceDirectoratthe Sisseton Wahpeton College. What I have found, even years later, is that yourenthusiasmforscienceandlearningwascontagious,andyouhadpasseditontome.Inturn,Ihavepasseditontomystudentsaswell.Likeyou,Isethighexpectationsformystudentsanddemandedmoreofthem,while

encouraging them to setgoalsanddreambig.Anumberofmy former studentshavegone on to college and earned Bachelor’s Degrees, against all odds. In fact, one

studentgotaholdofmeamonthagotoletmeknowthatshe’sbeenacceptedtoLawSchool.Likeme,shestartedwithnothingandhadtofightherwaythrough,everystepoftheway.Whileshecreditsmeforhergoodwork,Icredityou.My science education has really opened doors forme. As someonewho feels the

strongneedtomakeadifference,andseeingthelackofAmericanIndianswithinthatfield,Idecidedtopursuealawdegree.InDecember2008,IearnedaJurisDoctorateDegreefromtheUNDSchoolofLaw.In2009,Iwashiredasanattorneyformytribe.CurrentlyIamwritingtheEnvironmentalCodeformytribe,asonehasnotyetbeenestablished. ThisCodewill helpmy tribe gain important recognition under theEPAandguideusinregulatingandmanagingournaturalresourcesmoreeffectively.Onceagain,thanksforthinkingofme.

This story illustrates how the greatest strength of a teachermay be the ability to raise theexpectationsoftheirstudentsandtoconveyapersonalbeliefthatwithhardwork,allstudentscansucceed in life.Thepowerofbelief inoneself isa trulyremarkablegift thatshouldbegiventoallchildren.Asteachers,wehavetheability,andtheresponsibility,togivethisgifttoourstudents!

~PaulKuhlman2009SouthDakotaStateTeacheroftheYear

Math,Scienceteacher,grades7,9-12

NotLostInTranslation

Ateacheraffectseternity;hecannevertellwherehisinfluencestops.~HenryBrooksAdams

Asa teacherweallhave thosememoriesof students—wewonder ifwewereable to teachthemorreachthem.Theypullatourheartstrings.Youknow,thestudentswhorun,notwalk,into theroom,bouncearound in theirseats,haveaneed togetoutof theirseatseveryfiveminutesorso,gotothepencilsharpener,throwsomethingaway,andalwayshaveanexcusetoleavetheirseats.Theydon’tliketodohomework,andyettheylovetoparticipatebecausetheylovetotalkandtheyloveattention.

Irecentlyreceivedane-mailfromonesuchstudent.PacoRodriguez-Sanchez(nothisrealname).My studentshave always selected aSpanishname for themselves.Most select just afirstname.However,therearethosewhoinsistonnotonlyaSpanishfirstname,butalsothetwoSpanishlastnames,tobeculturallyappropriate.

Paco’se-mailbroughtbackmemoriesofoneparticulardayandoneparticularclass:It is our high school’s first year of block scheduling—our classes are 80minutes long

insteadofthetraditional40minutes.Therearenobellstosignalthebeginningandendingofa lesson.On thisparticularday, Iamtobeobservedby twocollegeprofessorsbecause theclassIteachisacollegecreditcourseinourhighschool.

Of course, I amproudof the fact that the class is conducted entirely inSpanish and thestudents do feel comfortable expressing themselves in Spanish. They come to this SpanishclasswithaSpanishname theyselectedfor themselveswhen they tookSpanishI.ManyareattachedtotheirnewnameandtheirSpanishclassidentity.Thisclassoftwenty-fiveisaprettytypicalintermediateSpanishclass.Therearethethirdwhoabsolutelywanttobethere—someare even consideringmajoring inSpanish in college, the thirdwhoare therebecause theirparentswantthemtoearnthecollegecredit,andthethirdwhoaretherebecausethisclasshadseatsleftorbecausetheirfriendsaretakingit.Thereareallsortsofreasonswhyhighschoolstudentstaketheclassestheytake.

Onthisday,Pacocomesrunningthroughthedoorwithatoastedcheesesandwichinhandandabowlofsaucefordipping.“Afterall,SeñoraMike,itisthethird80-minuteblockoftheday andmy lunch is not until next period. I’m hungry and I hope you don’tmind if I justquicklyeatthisgreattoastedcheesesandwich.”BecauseIinsistonSpanishatalltimes,Pacohas actually said in Spanish, “Señora, yo hambre y como el sandwich con queso, ¿vale?”

(Translatedliterally,“Mrs.,IhungerandIeatsandwichwithcheese,okay?”)I say,“Goahead,Paco, finishyour sandwich,quickly.”Pacohasnotyetnoticed the two

visiting professors who are there to observe me today. He sits down and finishes hissandwich,with three or four bites, dipping each time into the sauce. “Bueno,muy bueno,”Pacosaysashesavorsthelastbitewithsauce.

Pacohasnownoticedourtwovisitors.Ofcourse,ourtwovisitorsnoticedPacotheminutehe ran through the door. (I am sure college professors are not used to seeing students runthroughadoorandbounceintoaseatwithatoastedcheesesandwichandabowlofsauceinhand.)

IamwonderinghowlongPacowillstayseated.Thelessonisgoingalongquitewell,allthestudentsareworkingintheirgroups,engaged

in the assigned activity, and the professors go from group to group to interact and speakSpanishwiththestudents.Tomyrelief,thisisgoingquitewell.

Suddenly,Pacoraiseshishand.“Señora,estálloviendoenmispantalones.”(“Mrs.M.itisraininginmypants.”)Now,beingPaco’sSpanishteacher, Iunderstoodwhathewanted;hisrequest was not lost in translation. I know that it was his way of requesting to go to thebathroom.

You can just imagine the laughter from the other students and the chuckles from thevisitingprofessors.

IalwayswonderedjusthowmuchSpanishPacolearnedinthatclass,butIknowhelearnedmorethanjustSpanishbasedonane-mailherecentlywrotetome:

IknowIwasahandfulbutyouactuallycared&wereadamantaboutit.YouknewIhadpotentialbutImessedupalot&youneverbackeddown.…ButAHUGETHANKYOUtoyouSeñora,everythingyou taughtmeaboutSpanish,myattitude&lifewillstickwithmetherestofmydays….WishIcouldgobackforaday&doitagain,toastedcheese&secretsaucefrom

thecafeteriainhand,readyforfourthperiod!

Yousee,PacoRodriguez-Sanchezwasmystudenttenyearsago.

~VickieA.Mike2009NewYorkStateTeacheroftheYear

Spanishteacher,grades10-12

PersistencePays

Trustyourhunches.They’reusuallybasedonfactsfiledawayjustbelowtheconsciouslevel.

~JoyceBrothers

Asthedoortomyportableclassroomopened,agustofwintryaircapturedthepapersonmydesk.IlookedupfromgradingessaystoseeJessierushingthroughthedoor,herdarkhairwhipping around her head. I wondered what kind of creative excuse she would offer formissingmyjuniorhonorsEnglishclassearlierthatday.

Shehurriedacrosstheroom,talkingamileaminute.“Ms.Sturm,IcametotellyouwhyImissedclasstoday.Ireallylikeyourclass;Iwasn’tskipping,honest.Yousee,Caseyandme,wewereworriedaboutourfriend.Shesaidshewasgoingtocommitsuicide.”

Suicide?Alarmbellsclanged inmyhead.Her friendhadbeen talkingaboutcommittingsuicide?Doessherealizehowmanyteensfollowthroughontheirsuicidethreats?IwonderedhowIcouldinterveneandhelp.

“Whenshedidn’t showfor thirdhour,wewereworried,” Jessiecontinued.“Wewent toherhouse tocheckuponher.Honest.That’sallweweredoing.Sosince Iwasn’t skippingyourclass,canIgetmymake-upwork?Please?”

“Jessie,thisismoreimportantthanyourEnglishgrade.Doyourealizehowseriousyourfriend’ssituationmightbe?”

“Oh,myfriend’sgreat!Caseyandmejustcamefromherhouse.CanIgetmywork?”Stilltryingtointervene,Iquestionedher.“Jessie,willyougivemeyourfriend’sname?”“No,Ican’t.”“Jessie,haveyoutoldanadultwhoknowsyourfriend?Whataboutyourmomordador

yourfriend’sparents?”“Oh,no,Icouldn’tdothat.Wepromisedwewouldn’ttell.Wepromised!Iwouldn’thave

toldyouexceptIneedmymake-upwork.Shewon’tdoanythingstupid.Honest.”For the next fifteenminutes I pleadedwith her,whispering inaudible prayers thewhole

time.Myheartsilentlyscreamedatmenottoletheroutofmyroomuntilshepromisedtotellatrustedadult.

“WhataboutMrs.Cable,theschoolcounselor?Haveyouconfidedinher?Youknowshe’strainedtodealwithpotentialsuicidesandsheknowshowtokeepeverythingconfidential.”

Calmontheoutside,IwasbeginningtofeeldesperateinsideandprayedthatJessiewouldtalkwithMrs.Cableanddivulgethefriend’sname.

AtlonglastJessierelented.“OkayMs.Sturm.Sinceyouinsist,I’llgotellMrs.Cable,and

I’lltellhermyfriend’sname.NowcanIgetmymake-upassignment?”QuicklyIgavehertheday’sworkandsenthertothecounselor ’soffice.SeveraldayspassedbeforeJessiepoppedbackintomyroomafterschooltotellmewhat

hadhappened.“Ms.Sturm,you’llneverguesswhathappenedatMrs.Cable’s.”“Whathappened,Jessie?Isyourfriendalright?”“Iwenttothecounselor ’soffice.Thankyouformakingmego.”“GoodforyouJessie.Youdidtherightthing.Sowhathappened?”“RightawayMrs.Cablecalledhermom.Iwassoscaredwe’dgetintrouble….”Jessiecontinuedherstory,“Hermomwenttocheckandthenweheardhermomscream

andMrs.Cablecalled911andtheywentandrevivedmyfriendandtookhertothehospital.Ms.Sturm,Iwant to thankyouforsavingmyfriend’s life.Thedoctorsaidshewouldhavedied in another hour. She’s out of the hospital now and getting counseling.Thank you formakingmetell.Yousavedherlife.Thankyou.Thankyou.”

Withthatfarewell,Jessieflewoutthedoor, lettingitbangshut.InthequietofmyemptyroomI shedmy tears. Inever learned thenameofher friend,but Iknowshe’salive todaybecauseIwouldn’tgiveup.

~NancyHamiltonSturm

FiveWords

Weneedtounderstandthateverytimeanelementaryschoolteachercapturestheimaginationofachildthroughtheartsormusicorlanguage,thisnationgetsalittlestronger.

~FormerSecretaryofEducation,RichardW.Riley

When wemeasure success in the classroom, we think of bonds forged with families andchildren’sincreasingacademicgrowthasmeasuredonaregularbasis.Tofacilitatesustainedintellectualgainsforourstudents,westrive toformongoingtwo-waycommunicationwiththeparentsandfamiliesofourstudents.Researchhasrepeatedlyshownthatonceestablished,these critical relationships enable our children to become much more successful in allacademicpursuits.Authentic relationships arebuilt andnurturedwhen teachers andparentshavethesamegoalandworktogethertomotivateourchildren.

Parentsareoftenasperplexedas teachersabout thebestway to inspire students to learnwhatmustbetaught.Whenparentsandteacherscommunicatewell,ouradultcommunicationmakesapositiveimpactinthelivesandlearningofourchildren.Successisbasedonsettinggoalsandworkingtoachievepersonaldreams,andasateam,parentsandteacherssharethesevalueswiththechildrentowhomweareresponsible.

Attimes,teachersarestunnedtolearnthatnooneathomeisabletosupplythenecessarysupport.Theresponsibilityforeducatingsomeyounglearnersrestssolelyontheshouldersof the teacher. Usually parents come to meetings sharing their high expectations, soaringhopesandlimitlessdreamsfor theirchildren.Forsomefamilies,keepingaroofover theirheadsandfoodon the tablehas tobeenoughand theyhavenoaspirationsbeyondmeetingdailyneeds.Thereisnotimefor“frivolous”thingslikestorybooks.

So,itwasmyhonortobehumbledbyacomplimentfromoneofmystudents.HisnamewasWillard,andhewastheseventhofelevensiblings.Whenhearrivedinourfirstgrade,hecouldn’tactuallyrecognizehisownnameinprint.Iwasdismayedandworriedbecausethiswascompletelyatypicalofmyfirstgradestudents.Youngchildrentendtomasterthisskillsetat amuch earlier age. I immediately resolved to confer with hismother so that wemightcollaboratetohelpWillthroughouttheschoolyear.Inmyfirstmeetingwithhismother,sheconfided thatshewas illiterate. Indeed, therewerenoreaders inhis immediate family.Thisexplainedwhyhehadneverheardastoryreadaloudtohim,anditbecamecleartomewhyhecertainly didn’t recognize any letters of the alphabet or have anydesire tomakemarks onpaper,ashismothercalledthem.

Inallmyyearsofteaching,Ihadneverexperiencedadistressingacademicsituationofthis

nature; I wondered how this childwas ever going to experience any level of success in aclassroomfulloftwenty-fiveneedystudents.But,whathismotherhadn’tevenconsideredwasthatthisyoungmanwasabletodream.Hisclassmatesactedasrolemodelsforthatlittleboy,andItrulybelievedhecouldlearn.

Willwantedtobeamemberofthisclass,sohisfellowlearnersandIwelcomedhimwithopenarms.Applyinganenormousamountofpatience,andafterexertionofagreatdealofpure dedicated hard work and creativity, together Will and I were able to achieve somehonest-to-goodness breakthroughs.His temper tantrums subsided as he eventually began toenjoylisteningtostories.Willlearnedtosinganddance,andhewaswillingtosharepencils,crayons, and puzzles instead of biting other children in frustration. He stopped fighting,literallytoothandnail,foreverymomentofattentionfrommeandcouldsometimesrespondappropriatelytopeersasheinteractedinourlearningactivities.ItwasanevolvingmiracleasWilllearnedtoreadongradelevelandusenumberconceptswellenoughtobepromotedtosecondgradewithhisnewfoundfriends.

However,thethingIwillalwaysrememberaboutthislittleblond-hairedboywasthedayhedecidedhewantedtowritemeanote.Idon’tknowhoworwhyheeverdecidedtothankmeandinwriting.Iguessitwasbecausehecould.Hehandedmeacrumpledpieceofpaper;Ididn’t even realize it contained a message. I held it for a moment. I had never seenWillvolunteertowriteanything,sowhenhesaid,“Aren’tyougonnareadit?”Iwasmorethanalittlesurprised.Heusedthosemarksonpapertoexpresshisthoughtsinexactlyfivewords.Itsaid,“Mrs.Hutchins,youdonegood.”WhenIwasrecordingWill’sstory;mycomputerkeptpointingoutthatthissentenceexhibitspoorgrammaticalskills.ButatthemomentIunfoldedthatcrumpledlittlepieceofpaper,Iwasn’tworriedabouthisshortcomings.

Infact,inthatmomentIknewthegenuinedefinitionofthewordsuccessandsodidWill.Itisdoingthebestyoucanwithyourabilities,everychanceyouget.Willachievedwhatnooneelse in his family had to date, and because of one little boy’s determination, the doors ofliteracywereopenedforhisentirefamily.

Whenparentscannotfulfillthisroleofcommunicatinghighexpectations,teachersstepin.This isoneofour strengths.We,as teachers,must refuse to fail, so thereforewe refuse toaccept it from our students. We teach learners to embrace literacy, numeracy, and theprinciplesoflovingkindness.Character,compassion,andethicalbehaviorbuildrelationshipsandcreate feelingsofbelonging.Nothing ismore important forschoolandsuccess in life.Whenwemakebeingamemberofa learningcommunitycompellingenough,ourstudentsengageinlearningdespitetheodds.

~MaryLuHutchins2009WestVirginiaStateTeacheroftheYear

Elementaryteacher,grade1-2

Mary

Evenhundredfoldgriefisdivisiblebylove.~JarebTeague

I live in a border town.We are right next to Juarez,Mexico. Right now, drug cartels aretryingtotakecontrolofJuarez,acitywithroughlytwomillionpeople.In2008,morepeopleweremurderedinJuarezthanwerekilledinIraq.Toputitinperspective,thedrugcartelsdonotdiscriminate.IfyouhappentobeinMexicoandyouhappentobewithsomeonethecarteldoesn’twantaroundanymore,youwillbeexecuted.Becauseofthis,morethanhalfthekidsthatattendmyschoolknowsomeonewhohasbeenmurdered in thedrugwars.Oneofmykidsinparticular,Mary,hasbeenhitparticularlyhardandIwouldliketoshareherstory.

November 2008—Mary was sleeping peacefully in her bed in her family’s house inMexico. The silencewas broken by armedmen breaking into their home looking for herfather because he owed someonemoney.They foundhim in his bed and amidst the chaos,Maryandhermotherpleadedwiththegunmennottotakehim.Herfatherwasforcedoutofthehouse,withoutashirt,handstiedbehindhisback,andaguntohishead.Theyfoundhimthenextday,decapitated.

Overnight,thisbeautiful,vibrant,tenaciousseventeen-year-oldonthecuspofgraduation,shutdown.Shenolongersmiled.Shenolongerspoke.Herzestforlifewasgone.Shebarelymovedinclasswhenshewalkeddownthehall,shehungherheadlow.Eyecontactwasnon-existentandshekeptherhandsinhersweatshirtpockets.Shesimplyexisted.Shewasbarelyhangingontoanygripofrealityshehadleft.

InJanuaryof2009,shesat inmyclassandreadanessayshewroteaboutthatnight.Shewroteaboutherdadandthegunmen,abouthowshewasalonenow,andabouthowhereverybreathwasamorosetributetothejoysheoncefelt.Shetoldusthatshewishedshewasdeadtoo.Everykidinthatclasscriedwithher.

OnFebruary25,2009,shegavemeacardshemadeonacomputer inanother teacher ’sclass.ItsaidshereallyappreciatedmeandeverythingIdidforherduring“thattime.”AsIsithere crying, and remembering this preciousgirl, I amperplexedwhyMary thought ofmeduringtheworsttimeinherlife.Shewillnevergothroughanythingmoredifficultthanwhatsheisdealingwithnow…andshethoughtofme.

Slowly, after that daywhenMary read her essay, she started to heal. Little by little, shestarted tomake eye contactwith people around her again.At first itwas just a glance.By

March, I heardher beautiful laugh echooff thewalls ofmyclassroomagain.Granted, theunderlyinginnocencethatwasoncetherewasgone,but this isa timetocelebrate thesmallvictories.Shereluctantlywenttoprom,andproudlywalkedacrossthestageatgraduation,butlastIheardshehadnotreturnedtothehouseinMexicowheretheyoncelived.Afewweeksbeforegraduation,Marygavemeanother letter.Sheagain thankedmeforeverythingIhaddone,saidshewasstillamessontheinsideandwasonlybeingstrongforhermom,andsaidshewouldneverforgetme.Whatacoincidence—Iwillneverforgether.

~ChristineGleason2009TexasStateTeacheroftheYear

Englishteacher,grade12

ThatWasEmbarrassing

Humorismerelytragedystandingonitsheadwithitspantstorn.

~IrvinS.Cobb

RollerCall

Thetruthwillsetyoufree,butfirstitwillmakeyoumiserable.~JamesA.Garfield

Irememberthinkingabouttheslogan“DressforSuccess”whenIpickedoutthesuit.Itwasbeautiful, a blackwool jacket and skirt, a creamy silk blouse. Expensive. I’d never ownedclothingsonice.Ievenboughtnewshoes,notthecomfyrubbersolesthatInormallyworetomyteachingjobatthehighschool,butprettyblackheelswithleathersoles.Iwantedtolookgreat.

The event would be in the university ballroom, a special reception for participantsconsideringanewgraduatedegreeprogram. Itwas important,myfirst stepon the journeytowardanexcitingfuture.Whoknewwhere itmight lead?PerhapsImighteventuallyenterthe halls of the university itself as an esteemed facultymember.That couldmean somanythings.Nomorescrapinggumfromthebottomofdesks,nomorelisteningto“Iforgotmyhomework,”nomorecarryingmyownsoap to the shared student-faculty restrooms. Iwasexcited.

ThereceptionwasallIexpectedandmore.Beautifulvasesoffresh-cutflowersrestedonwhite tableclothsarrayedwithdelicatecaketreats,bitesofcheeses,crackers,andglassesofchampagne. Itwasnothing like the receptionsatmyschool,which featured fruitpunchandplatesofcookiesfurnishedbythePTA.

I lookedaround thegrandballroomadornedwithart ingilded frames.Soft cellomusicplayedinthebackground.Ididn’tknowanyoneatthereception,butitseemedthateverywhereIlooked,someonewaslookinginmydirection.Manyofthemsmiled.Irememberthinkingthatperhaps there reallywas something to “dressing for success.” Itwasoneof those raremomentswhenIfeltpolished—nomessychalkmarksonmyhandsorredinkonmyfingers.

Later,whenIleftthereceptionandheadedtowardmycar,IdecidedthatIdidn’twanttogohome,changeintomysweatsandsitaroundalleveninggradingstacksofboringhighschoolessays.Thatwaswaytoomundane.No,I’dgosomewhereelse,maybetoanicecoffeeshopor maybe visit a small art gallery.Who knew when I’d be this dressed up again? Beforebackingoutofmyparking spot, though, I decided to checkmyhair and lipstick. I actuallysmiledintotheoverheadmirror.AndthenIfroze.

Apinkhairrollerwasjustsittingtherenearthetopofmyhead,alittletowardtheback,ontheleftside.Therollerwastotallyexposed,onlyasmallwimpystrandofhairdrapedlazilyoverit.

I thought I’ddie. I thought Iwouldneverever showmy faceat theuniversityagain.No

wonderpeopleweresmiling.Whatcouldtheysay?Excuseme,youhaveapinkrollerstuckonyourhead?

Isatinthecar,holdingthatstupidrollerinmyfist,tearsrollingdownmyface.“Turn it around,” I always told my students when they messed up, when they felt like

quitting.“Useyourmistakes,”I’dtellthem.“Don’tletthemuseyou.”Sorry.Thiswasdifferent.Ifeltmiserableallthewayhome.Zoomaheadayearor two. I’m in a classroom,not in auniversity, but in apublichigh

school,aclassroomofstrugglingkidswhoareusedtofailure.I’mtryingtoreachthem,butitishard. Impossible. It seemsas if nothingworks.Finally, in aweakmoment, I findmyselftellingthemthehairrollerstory.Itellthemeverything,everytinyhumiliatingbit,mytears,myshame,myvowtonevershowmyfaceinauniversityagain,thehorriblealonenessIfelt.

“Ohno!”onegirlsays.“Icouldn’tstandit!”Somestudentslaugh.Theycan’tbelieveI’dshare such an embarrassing event. “That reallyhappened toyou,Miss?”onekid asks. “Nolie?”Anotherstudentsuggests Icheckmyhairbefore Igoanywhere.Someoneelsehasanimportantquestion.“Didyougobacktothecollege?”

“Yes,Idid,”Ianswer.“ButIlearnedIdidn’twanttoteachinaplacewherepeoplemightnottellyouthatyouhavearolleronyourhead.”Wealllaughedatthat.

ThenextdaywhenIwalkedintotheclassroom,itwastotallyquietexceptforalittlegigglehereand there. I lookedoutat theclass.Theywereallwatchingme.Someweresmiling. Itdidn’ttakemelongtonotice.Everykid,everysingleone,hadapinkhairrollerstuckonhishead.

“Hey,Miss,”cameavoiceattheback.“Youain’talone!”Many years ago, when I was first studying to be a teacher, one ofmy professors said,

“Before you teachme, youmust reachme.”Whowould have known that a little pink hairrollercouldplaysuchabigpart!

~MarthaMoore

FieldTripFiasco

Everydaymaynotbegood,butthere’ssomethinggoodineveryday.~AuthorUnknown

WhenIacceptedtheteachingpositionatthesmallprivateschoolintheGreenMountainsofVermont, I expected to be passing onmy love of language tomiddle-school childrenwithlearningdisabilities.Ididnotexpecttobestandinginaparkinglotwithableedinglittlegirlsurrounded by Vermont state troopers, hands at their holsters. But that was exactly mypositionat11:25AMoneAugustday.

Atsevenyearsold,SabrinawasonherthirdsetofadoptiveparentswhensheshowedupatAutumnAcres.Ourlittleschoolonlyhousedaboutsixtykids,buttheyweresixtykidswho’dalreadyseenmorehorriblethingsthanmostpeopleeversee.Sabrinahaditworstofall.

Iwasn’twiththematrecesswhenithappened,butSabrinamanagedtoclimbfifteenfeetupa treeand thenfall.WhenIcame intoworkMondaymorning, teachershuddled incorners,fromwhichIcouldhearsnatchesofconversation:“…wasn’tbeingwatched…shouldn’tbeleftalone…bithertonguecompletelyinhalf….”

Sabrina showedup for schoolonFridaywithher jawwired shut.Theywereable to re-attach the tongue,but therehadbeen significantnervedamage, and itwasquestionable thatshe’deverbeable to speaknormallyagain.Mr.Garrity, theprincipal,pulledmeasideas Iwaswarmingupthevantotakethekidsonafieldtrip.

“Mr.Kaiser,we reallywant togetSabrina reintegrated into thepopulationasquicklyaspossible.”

“Sabrina?Idon’tknowifbringingherisagoodidea.We’llbewalkingacoupleofmiles.Ifsomethingshouldhappen…”

“Look,Mr.Kaiser.Ratherthanpunishherevenmore,I’dlikeyoutotakeheralongonthefieldtriptoday.”

OfcoursetheywantedSabrinatogoonthefieldtrip.Thatwaynoneoftheadministratorswouldhavetodealwithherbackattheschool.

I parked the raucous student-packed van in the handicapped spot at theGreenMountainAnimalSanctuary.Mrs.Bourne,thescienceteacher,gotoutofthevan,andopenedthebackdoortoletthekidsouttostretchtheirlegsandeattheorangesliceswe’dbroughtforsnack.Thesevenotherteacherswalkedoverwiththeirlists.Eachteacherwouldhaveeightstudents.

Iheardacoughbehindme,andtheresatSabrinaaloneinthevan.Ilookedatmyclipboard;shewasnotmine.Herblueeyeslookedevenbiggerthanusual,herfacedrawnandherjawstickingoutasifshewasangry.Icouldn’ttellifshetrulywas,orifthewiringmadeherlook

so.Isteppedintothevanandextendedmyhandtoher,andherbigeyesbecamenarrowslits.Sheshookherheadvigorously.Shedidn’tknowme.Tosomeonewho’dexperiencedterriblethingsatthehandsofthoseclosesttoher,astrangermusthavelookedlikeanotherpredator.IsteppedbackandSabrinaextendedawhite,skinnyarmtoMrs.Bourne.

Mrs.Bournetookhergroupstraighttotheskunkpen,outsideofwhichwasatableholdinglittlemetalcans.Eachcanhadaperforatedtop,andeveryonewasinvitedtopickupacanandsmelltheskunk’smusk.Thebadgerpenwaslocatedneartheskunkpenandthebadgermusksmelledliketheworstarmpitintheworldaccordingtooneboy.Hewasright.IgaggedafterIliftedthecantomynose.

Wecontinuedonthewindingtarmactothehuthousingthemoles.WhenIsteppedthroughthedoorwayIsawSabrinastandingperfectlystillandstaringupatamoleburrowbehindtheglass.Behindherwaswhat looked likeagiantcaptain’swheel,butwithbadgersandmolesandskunksandmountainlionsandotheranimalspaintedonit.Whenthewheelstopped,theanimalswouldbelinedupwitheitherwhattheypreyedon,orwhatpreyedonthem.ButitwasthewheelitselfthatpreyedonlittleSabrina,becausewhenshetookastepback,thewheel’swooden handle slammed right down on top of her head. She collapsed to her knees and Iheardthehaunting,mutedcryofachildtryingtoscreamthroughawiredjaw.Sabrina’slipsweredrawnbackasfarastheywouldgoandherteethwerebaredtoexposethethinstripsofmetal running across her teeth, and blood seeped from between her teeth. She’d bitten hertonguestitches.

Iradioedforhelp,andfearingshemightchokeonherblood,Istoopedandinonemotiontippedheroverintomyarmsandstood.Sheimmediatelybegankickingherfeetwildlyandthrashingandscreamingasifshehadagaginhermouth.Ibeganrunningthemileorsobacktothevan.

Sabrinawas still kicking as I ran, and her attempts at screaming had jetted blood frombetweenherteethallovertherightsideofmyheadandface.Sabrinawasonlysixtypounds,butshebegan togetheavyasIploddedalong, fetchingstrange looksfrombystanderswhosawamanrunningawaywithascreaming,bloodygirlwhosoundedasifshe’dbeengagged.

ThescienceteacherCatharinehadheardmyradiotransmissionandshewaswaitingatthevan,withalittleboynamedDerek.

Shesaid,“Doyouwantmetodrivehertothehospital?”“Icandriveher.Canyoujustgetherinthevanforme?Shedoesn’ttrustme.”IputSabrina

down and Catharine took both her hands and bent down, whispered something to her.Surprisingly,Sabrinasteppedintothevanandsatintheveryback.Derekclimbedinandevensnappedherseatbelton,thenbeltedhimselfintoo.

“CanIcome?”“Oh, um, actually that’s not a bad idea, Derek.” I started the van and heard movement

behindme—Sabrinawastryingtounbuckleherseatbelt,andDerekwasholdingherhandssoshecouldn’t.

“Hip-hop!”criedDerek.“Shelikeship-hop!”Itunedtheradiotoarapstation.“Turn it up!Loud!”he cried. In the rearviewmirror, I could seeSabrina smiling inher

blood-sprayedwhiteT-shirt,bouncingtotherhythm.

Icalledtheschoolonmywaytothehospital,buttheygavemeotherinstructions.Sabrina’sparentsdidnotwantherbroughttothesmalllocalhospital,buttoChildren’sHospitalBoston,whereshehadhertonguesewedbackoninthefirstplace.Istartedtoprotest,butshedidseemokaybacktherewithDerek,soIagreedtomeetSabrina’sparents inaparkinglotonMainStreet.

Anditwasthere,withhip-hopmusicblasting,blood-coveredSabrinaandDerekdancing,leaning against the driver ’s door myself covered with blood, that the three Vermont statepolicecruisersarrivedandsurroundedme.

Theyexitedtheirvehiclesand,gunhandsattheirhips,slowlybeganwalkingtowardme.Iwasleaningonthecarwatchingthisunfold,thinkingthiswasjustwhatIneededtotopoffthiswonderfulday

“I’vegotahurtkidhere—I’mwaitingforherparentstopickherup!”Iyelled.Theyclosedin,andIhandedovermylicense.Theyseemedtothinkthey’dcaughtmeatsomething.ThenIsawanolderwomanstandingonherporch,peekingoutfrombehindapostwithacordlessphoneinherhand.OfcourseIwouldprobablyhavethoughtitsuspicioustooifIsawamaninhis late twentieshangingoutwith abloody littlegirl, having ahip-hopdanceparty in aparkinglot.Asitturnedout,theythoughtIwasapedophileluringchildrenwithmusic.

WhenIlookbackatthatday,mymoststressfuleverofteaching,whatsticksinmymindisnotbeingmistakenforapedophile,oranyanimositytowardpoorwoundedSabrina,butthekindnessofthatlittleboyDerek,wholikesomanygoodpeoplewhopassbrieflythroughourlives,touchedmewithhisgoodwillandmovedonbeforeIlethimknowhowgratefulIwas.

~RonKaiser,Jr.

BountifulSharinginFirstGrade

Agoodteacherislikeacandle—itconsumesitselftolightthewayforothers.~AuthorUnknown

Asafirstgradeteacherwhocaresdeeplyforherstudents,itisimportanttostartbuildingastrong classroom community immediately upon beginning the school year. Acts of theteacheraretakenveryseriouslybythestudentsandconsciouslyorsub-consciouslycalculatedby themas towhether the teachercaresabout themandhasprepareda safeplace for themduringschoolhours.Sincesix-year-olds,generally,areveryhonestandlovingtowardtheirteacher… the love notes and drawings come quickly and continually after the first day ofschool.Sometimes,reciprocalactsoflovetowardthestudentsarealittlemoreintricateandmessyfortheteacher.

At the beginning of last year, for about amonth,my first graderswore name tags (redapplesonasoftyellowyarnlanyard)duringthedaysothelunchstaff,music,gym,media,andcomputerteacherswouldbegintorecognizethemandcouldbeginlearningtheirnames.Oneday,uponmystudents’returntotheclassroomfromlunch,Inoticedthatastudent’snametagwasonherdesk.AsIpickeditupandhandedittohersoshecouldputitonshevomitedonme.Outofloveandconcernforher,IreassuredherthatthiswasNOTabigdeal,quicklyand quietly wrote a note to the school nurse, and had two students usher her down to theoffice.

Since itwas readaloud time theother studentswaitedon the rug forme, lookingat theauthorMoWillems’booksthatIhadalreadyreadtothem,soIusedtheclassroomphonetocontactacustodiantocleanuptheaftermath.AssmoothlyasIcould,Icleanedmyselfoffandsatdowntoreadtothechildren,neverraisingmyvoiceormakingafussoverthevomit.AsIread,thecustodiancleanedupandsanitizedtheaffectedarea.

Next, the children moved back to their seats to draw a picture of their favorite MoWillems’characterinasettingtheyhadseeninoneofthebookswehadbeenreading.Afterthey had drawn their picture they were to add labels or sentences—whatever they feltcomfortableproducingforthisproject.ThelittleonewhohadsharedherlunchwithmecamebacktotheroomandIhelpedhergetreadytogohomefortheremainderoftheday.Iwishedherwellandtoldherwewouldmissher.

As I was wondering around the room looking at what the children were creating andansweringquestions,onelittlegirlcalledmeovertoherdesktolookatherwork.WhenIgottoherdesk,shestoodupsoshecouldgetclosetomeandshareherprojectwithme.Asshe

wasspeaking,Ifeltmyfeetandlegsgettingwet.Ittookmeasecondtorealizethatasshewasexplainingherbeautifulworkshewasurinatingonme.Again,outofloveandconcernforthechild, I reassuredher that thiswasNOTabigdeal,quicklyandquietlywroteanote to theschoolnurseandhadthechildushereddowntotheofficebytwoofherpeers.Onceagain,Icalled upon the custodians to come and sanitize the affected area, cleaned myself off andnevertalkedaboutitwiththestudents.Whentheyoungladycamebacktotheroomwithdry,cleanclothesshetookherseatandbegan,onceagain,toconsiderherpartintheclassroomcommunity.

Thenextday,bothgirlsreturnedtoclassandweregreetedwithcomfortingsmiles.Bothwereunsureastohowtheywouldbetreatedbytheclassandbyme.Neitheraccidentwaseverbroughtupinpublic.Thelittlegirlwhourinatedonme,however,discussedinprivatewithmehowawfulshefeltabouttheexperience.Iadvisedherthatitwasanormalbodilyfunction,thateveryonehadaccidentsatsometimeintheirlife,andthatshewasnottoworryaboutitanymore.Theseaccidentsbrought thegirlsandmecloserandalthoughwenever talkedofthemagain they learned that theclassroomwasa safeplacewhere theycould learnandbelovedandthattheirclassmatesacceptedthem.

After school that day, I had a meeting to attend. Of course, the first thing I did wasapologizeforhowthisfirstgradeteachersmelledandlaughedwithmycolleaguesaboutthewonderofteaching.

~LindaA.Smerge2009IllinoisStateTeacheroftheYear

Elementaryteacher,grade1

TheNaughtyKid

Childrenareagreatcomfortinyouroldage—andtheyhelpyoureachitfaster,too.

~LionelKauffman

Afterthefirstfewdaysinanewclassroom,especiallyifitisinanewschool,yourchildislikelytocomehomeandclaimthatheorshedoesn’tknowthenamesofanyotherstudents.

“Youcan’trememberevenonefriend’sname,”you’llsay,desperateforallthedetails.Butyour child’s lips are sealed.Only after relentless proddingwill your child finally confess:“Well,thereisthisonekid….”

That“onekid,”theonlystudentwhosenameyoursonordaughterknows,isguaranteedtobethenaughtykid.

Everyclasshasanaughtykid.Otherchildrenquicklylearnthenaughtykid’snamebecausetheyhearitcalledoutbytheteacher—withvariousundertonesofangerandfrustration—overand over again. Beware any child whose name is the first one that your son or daughterlearns.

Butwhatifyourchildisthenaughtykid?Howwillyouknow?Yourfirstcluemightbeifyoursonordaughtersaysthereisn’tanaughtystudentintheclass.Remember,thereisalwaysanaughtykid.

ME(speakingtomyfive-year-oldson,whojuststartedkindergarten):“Owen,didyoulearnanyfriends’namestoday?”OWEN:“No,Mom.”ME:“Noteventhenaughtykid’sname?Yourolderbrotheralwayslearnedthenaughtykid’snameonthefirstday.”OWEN:“Wedon’thaveanaughtykidinourclass.”ME:“Nonaughtykid?That’simpossible.Everyclasshasanaughtykid.”OWEN:“Notmyclass.”ME: “Well that’s good. But you don’t know anyone’s name? You didn’t hear the teachersayingsomeone’snameoverandoveragain?”OWEN:“Nope.”

The second clue that your child is the naughty one in his class: Other parents know yourchild’sname.

ME(speakingtothemotherofsomeoneinOwen’sclass):“I’msorry,whatisyourdaughter ’sname?I’mstilltryingtomatchparentstochildren.”ANOTHERPARENT:“You’reOwen’smom,right?”ME:“Yes.”ANOTHERPARENT:“WehearalotaboutOwen.”

Thethirdandfinalcluethatyourchildisthenaughtyoneinclass:Heorsheseemstoalwayshaveanewseat.

ME:“Owen,whatwasyourfavoritepartoftheweek?”OWEN:“ThatI’msittingatmyfriend’stableagain.”ME:“You’veswitchedtablesalready?It’sonlythesecondweekofschool.”OWEN:“I switch tableseveryday,Mom.Each timeIget in trouble, the teacher findsmeanewseat.”

IwasshockedwhenIfinallyputitalltogether.Ididn’twantmychild—myOwen—tobe“thatkid.”Ididn’twanthimtobethenaughtyone.WhenItalkedtomyhusband,Dustin,aboutit,hechuckledandsaid,“Owenhascomealongway.Doyourememberwhenhewouldn’ttalkatall?Doyourememberhowyouworriedthathewouldalwaysbeshy?”

Dustinisright.Justtwoyearsago,ourOwen,whohasalwaysbeeninthethird-percentileforweight,was a scrawny four-year-old boywho couldn’t keep even size 2Tpants onhiships.HeseldomtalkedandhecriedeverytimeIlefthimatpreschool.Hehadtroublemakingfriends.

Now our pint-size little boy—the onewe used to call “Tiny Tim”—has blossomed intosomeonewhoapparentlycan’tstopmakingfriends.EvenduringCircleTimeandRestTime.Andwhileit’snicetoseehimgrowing,thatdoesn’tmeanheshouldmisbehave.

“IguessIneedtocallOwen’steacherandarrangeameeting,”Isaidaloudtomyselfthatnight,andmyoldestson,Ford,overheard.

“Ibettheteacherwillanswerandsay,‘Well,hellothereyounaughtyparent,’”Fordsaid,bringingawholenewelementintomydilemma.Ifeveryclasshasanaughtychild,Iguessitmakessensethatthereisa“naughtyparent”aswell.

Owencameintotheroomandheardustalking.“Ohcomeonnow,stop,”hesaid.“Let’snotgocallingmyteacher,oranything.I’vegotitallundercontrol.”

Which,ofcourse,isClue#1thatyouneedaParent-Teacherconferencepronto.

~SarahSmiley

ClassroomFun

Iamthankfulforlaughter,exceptwhenmilkcomesoutofmynose.~WoodyAllen

Teachingsecondgradeneverceasestoamuseme.One year, I had a young man in my class who occasionally seemed to have difficulty

following the rules, especially during unstructured times such as recess.Whenever hewasguiltyofanyinfraction,Iimmediatelyknewbecausehewouldbreakintotearsassoonashesawmyface,andhehadamillionexcusesastowhythebehavioroccurred.Mystudentswereentering the roomafter lunch recessonedayandonebyone they rushed to informmeofTommy’slatesttransgression.

I braced myself for the tears and excuses I knew were inevitably coming my way. AsTommyenteredtheroomhowever,hemarchedwithdeterminationrightuptomeandsaid,“Mrs.N.,Iknowyou’veheardaboutmemakingbadchoicesbutyoureallyneedtohearmysideofthestory.”

I was intrigued, as he had never come in so calmly, and I let him proceed. Tommycontinued,“AllIsaidwas,‘WouldyourathergotoHeavenorgotoHell?’Ifyoureallywanttobemadatsomeone,youshouldbemadatBillybecausehesaid,‘Tommy,whatthehelldidyousaythatfor?’”

Ofcourse,sometimesIamthesourceoftheamusement….Oneday, Iwasstandingat thewhiteboard infrontofmyclass, recordingstudents’ ideas

forawritingassignment.Afterdocumentingonestudent’s idea, I turnedmyheadtocallonanother.Suddenly,Ifeltasharppaininmychin.Iquicklydiscounteditandcontinuedwritingdownideas.

AsIturnedmyheadasecondtime,againIfeltsomethingsharphitmyface.Thiswentonforquitesometime.Then,oneofmystudentsraisedherhandandsaid,“Lookeverybody…Mrs.N.hasanewmagicwandforus touse in theclassroomandshe’s trying tohide it.” IlookeddownanddiscoveredIhadpoppedtheunderwireinmybra!

~LoriNeurohr2009WisconsinStateTeacheroftheYear

Elementaryteacher,grade2

CrayonCrisis

Lifeisaboutusingthewholeboxofcrayons.~RuPaul

The telephone rang. Itwasmy sister. She said, “Just thought I’d let you know I used yourcrayonstoryagain.”Mysisteristhemediaspecialistinanelementaryschool.Everynowandthen,shewilltellmystorytothestudentswhovisitherlibrary.

Forty-oddyears ago, I sat inmy first-grade classroom.The classroom’sPAcrackled tolife, summoningme to the principal’s office. ThePRINCIPAL’S office!As Iwalked to theoffice,mysix-year-oldlittlelifeflashedbeforemyeyes.WhatdidIdo?

Iwasashykid.Ididmybesttoblendintothebackground.Ihatedtobenoticedorsingledout.Forme,beingcalledtotheprincipal’sofficewasmyworstnightmarecometolife.MyblackandwhitesaddleshoesscuffedthefloorasIwalkedeversoslowlytotheoffice.

“Diane,theprincipalisnotreadyforyouyet.Pleasehaveaseat,”saidtheschoolsecretary.IclimbedupontotheleathersofaandsunkaslowasIcouldintothecushion.Iwaspraying

thatthecushionwouldswallowmewhole.Theintercombuzzedonthesecretary’sdesk.“Youcangoinnow,”shesmiled.I pushed open the heavy oak door. It was worse than I thought. Seated in front of the

principal’sdeskweremyparents.Therealreasonwhytheywerethere,Iwouldn’tlearnuntilyearslater.

Myfatherwalkedstraightovertome.Heheldastackofmydrawings.“Whydoyouonlyuseablackcrayonwhenyoudraw?”heasked.

Icouldn’tspeak.AllIcoulddowasshrugmyboneyshoulders.“Showmeyourdesk,”saidmyfather.We returned tomy classroom. Itwas recess time so allmy classmateswere out on the

playground.Inervouslypointedtomywoodendesk.Myfatherpulledoutmycrayonbox.Hedumpedthecontentsintohishand.Asinglenubof

acrayonrestedinhispalm—itwasblack.Puzzled,myfatherasked,“Wherearetherestofyourcrayons?”IquietlyexplainedthatI’dgivenalltheothercrayonstofriends.I’dbeensharinglikemy

parentshadtaughtme.Myfatherletoutadeepcontrolledbreath,“Youweresharing.”Inoddedmyhead.Ilookedatmyfather,thenattheprincipal—boththeirfaceswerered.

The principal mumbled that I could join the rest of my classmates for recess. I wavedgoodbye tomyparents.Mymotherwavedback,but Icouldn’tgetmyfather ’sattention;he

wastoobusyglaringattheprincipal.Ilearnedyearslaterthatmyfather ’sfacewasredduetoangerandtheprincipal’swasred

due to embarrassment. The principal, on seeing all my artwork done in black crayon,assumedthatIhaddeepemotionalissues.Tohimmycrayonchoicereflectedmy“darkanddepressednature.”Hehadcalledmyparentsintodiscuss“myproblem”andtosuggestsometypeofpsychologicalcounseling.

IwastooafraidtoadmitthatIonlyhadonecrayon.Iwastootimidtoaskformy“shared”crayonsback.BecauseIdidn’tstandupformyself,othersassumedtheworst.

That night, my father talked to me about “sharing and giving,” and how the two aredifferent.Healsogavemeabrandnewboxofcrayons.Hetappedtheboxandsaid,“Thesecrayons are for you and you alone. I don’t want you sharing or giving these crayons toanyoneelse,understand?”

Iclutchedthenewboxandsaid,“Yes,Daddy.”Todaymysister tellsher students, “Don’tbeafraid toaskaquestion.Don’tbeafraid to

speakup.Ifyoudon’t—Ijustmightmakethewrongassumption.Andthat’snotagoodthing.Letme tell a story aboutmy sister,when shewas around your age. It revolves around anassumptionandablackcrayon….”

~DianeMMiller

FullofSurprises

Everysurvivalkitshouldincludeasenseofhumor.~AuthorUnknown

After receiving a staff e-mail containing pictures of outlandish things that kids do, I feltcompelled to sharewithmy fellow second grade teachersmy own story of a studentwhocouldhaveeasilybeeninmanyofthosepictures.MyfirstyearteachingIthoughtmyschooladministrationwasouttogetme.Asaninexperiencedteacher,everychildofastaffmemberwhowasinsecondgradewasplacedinmyclass.Nopressurethere,right?Toaddtothat,Ialso taught five Spanish speaking students and I had not yet received my bilingualcertification.Atthispoint,myconfidencelevelasanewteacherhaddeclinedtremendously.As unnerved as I was throughout my initial teaching experience, the year went by withminimal complications. Little did I knowmy second year of teachingwould be filledwithprolificchallenges.

Let’scallherMeredith….Meredithwasabeautifulchildwhocouldlightuparoomwithherlaughterandsmile.Shehadafantasticsenseofhumorandbroughtagreatdealofjoytoourclassroom.However,Meredithhadatendencytofindherselfinunusualsituations.Takethe head stuck in the chair incident. How this happened, I have no idea. As I was at thechalkboard displaying new vocabulary words, Meredith somehow managed to wedge herhead inanopening in thebackof thechair.Lessonnumberone—donot turnyourbackonthemforonesecond.

We abruptly discontinued our vocabulary lesson so that I could attempt to removeMeredith’s head from its unexpected position. Meredith twisted and turned, stretched andpulledtonoavail.Asshebegantocry,Ithoughthertearsmightprovidesomelubricationtohelp slide her head back through the opening.When that theory proved to be ineffective, Iproceededtocallourheadcustodian.Hecameoverrightawayarmedwithhistoolsandhissenseofhumor.HethenattemptedtohaveMeredithtwistandturn,andstretchandpull.Onceagain… nothing. As a last resort, the custodian removed the back of the chair from itssupporting pieces andMeredith was freed from her confinement. It did not take long forMeredith’stearstoturntoimpishlaughterandwewereabletocontinuewithourday.PleasenoteIdidnotscheduleforaremovalofheadfromchairinmylessonplans.

Thiswas the incident that first came tomind after receiving the entertaining images ofcuriouschildbehavior.ButthisisnotmyonlystoryinvolvingMeredithandhermischievousmanner.AnothervividmemoryIhaveofthatyearinvolvedmeasuringtape,studentsjumping

andme flat on the floor.Aspart of ameasurement activity, students jumped as far as theycouldandwemeasuredthedistance.Wedidthisactivityonestudentatatimewithmeononeendofthetapemeasureandonestudentontheotherend.Iaskedstudentswhowerewaitingfortheirturnorwhohadalreadyfinishedtosit inaseparateareaandobserve.AsImovedforwardandbackward,andupanddown,I trustedthatIcoulddososafely.Lessonnumbertwo—donothavefalseconfidenceinyourownphysicalwellbeingintheclassroom.

AsIblindlybackedawayfromastudenttomeasureajump,Iencounteredanobstacleandfell to the floor.Throughmy legs in the air, there satMeredith, scrunched in aballon thefloor infrontofme.Icouldn’tdecideifIwantedto laughorshout.Afterbrieflysharingalaughwithmystudents,Iinstructedthemonemoretimeregardingwhatshouldoccurduringthis activity and stressed the importance of listening and following directions in order tomaintainasafeclassroomenvironment.

As I shared these storieswithmycolleagueswhohad just received theexuberante-mailthat triggeredmymemory,an innocent, inexperiencedstudent teachergaspedinhorrorandsaid, “That’s thekindof thing I’mafraidof!” I smiledather and said, “Don’tbeafraidofthese typesof things.They’re thekindof things thatkeepit interesting.”AsI thoughtaboutmy response to her, I realized thatmy biggest disasters are some ofmy bestmemories. Ilearned that even the best plans can and will be interrupted by heads stuck in chairs andteacherscrashingtothefloor.AndmymemoriesofMeredith…shewillforeverbrightenmydayandbringmebacktoreality.

~BlytheTurner2009NewMexicoStateTeacheroftheYear

Bilingualteacher,grade2

SocialSecretary

Wisdomdoesn’tnecessarilycomewithage.Sometimesagejustshowsupallbyitself.

~TomWilson

Inmyclassroom,IhavestudentsasClassCouncilPresident,VicePresident,andAmbassador.While I complete the morning tasks that frustrate so many teachers, the Class Councilmemberssetupthecomputers,runbookstothelibrary,andturninanynotestotheofficeandthenurse.Thisleavesmefreetoquicklyhandleanypaperwork.

LastJanuary,asIwascompletingmyattendancecountverificationsheet,oneofmyfourthgradestudentsapproachedthedesk.Onlyhalflistening,Iheardhimask,“Mrs.Breen?MayIchangethecalendar?”

I glanced at the small daily calendar and noted it showed the third day of themonth. Irepliedratherimpatiently,“No,thecalendariscorrect.”

“ButMrs.Breen,todayisthefourth,”Jasoninsisted.Jasonisaveryreservedstudent.Hewasfinallybeginningtotrustmewithhisthoughts.

“Honey, the fourth ismyhusband’sbirthdayandI’d remember that. It’s tomorrow.Now,haveaseatplease.”AndIreturnedtomywork.

HeinsistedandIfinallylookedatthelargeclassroomcalendar.Ijumpedupfrommyseatandwentover to thecalendaras ifhoping itwouldchangeas Iwatched it.“Ohno!Ohmystars!”burstfrommeasIrealizedhewascorrect.

A horrified “You-forgot-your husband’s-birthday?” statement floated past me from ahorrifiedJason.Hestoodlookingatmewithshockscreamingfromeveryporeofhisbody.Withadisgustedandmorethanalittle indignantexpression,Jasonreturnedtohisdeskandbegantoworkonawritingproject.

Ashewasleavingfortheafternoon,Jasonplacedapieceofpaperonmydesk,gavemeareproachfullook,andsaidnottoreadit,buttogiveittomyhusbandassoonasIgothome.Theletterread:

DearMr.Breen,

I hope you have a delightful dinner tonight.Mrs. BreenCOMPLETELY forgot yourbirthdaytodayuntilIremindedherofthecorrectday!Shepromisedshe’dtakeyououtforasteakdinner.HappyBirthday.

Sincerely,Jason

Properly humbled, I shared the letter with my husband and we went out for dinner. Uponreturning, my husbandwrote a note back to Jason thanking him for remindingme of hisspecialday.

I thought that was the last of this issue until one day, as I was attempting to get theclassroom Valentine’s Day party underway, with twenty excited fourth-graders makingsuggestions,thephonebegantoring.Ourschoolsecretarywasaskingaboutthestudentwhohadwrittenthe“birthdaynote”tomyhusband.Confusedandthrownoffbalance,ItoldheritwasJason.SherequestedhebesenttotheofficeASAP.

Uponhisarrivalintheoffice,JasonwasintroducedtomyhusbandBill,whohadbroughtroses for me. They shook hands and Bill thanked Jason for helping me to remember hisbirthday,andaskedhimtodelivertheflowerstome.

Jasonwalkedintotheclassroomwiththat“You’re-going-to-be-so-sorry”lookandIknewIhadbeenhadbyBill. Jasonhandedme the flowersand said, “HappyValentine’sDay.Mr.BreenrememberedValentine’sDayandIdidn’thavetotellhim.”Afterlaughingandthankinghimforthedelivery,Imentionedthatweweregoingoutfordinneragain.“That’sit?!”Jasonsaidveryindignantly.“Youdidthatforhisbirthday.”

Isurrenderedandamstilllaughing.

~IlahBreen

TouchedbyaStudent

Somepeoplecomeintoourlivesandquicklygo.Somestayforawhileandleavefootprintsonourhearts.Andwearenever,everthesame.

~Anonymous

LettersfromHome

Tosendaletterisagoodwaytogosomewherewithoutmovinganythingbutyourheart.~PhyllisTheroux

Asteachersweareprivilegedtobecomeapartofourstudents’lives.Theysharetheirjoys,frustrations,worries,andfearswithusonadailybasis.Sometimes theemotionsappearonthepagesofajournal,wherethewritercanpretendtheadmissionsaremerelythestorylinefor a work of fiction. Other times they are shared openly and enthusiastically during amorningmeeting.Overtheyears,Ihavebeenprivytostoriesofnewbabiesinthefamilyandsoccer goals in the finalmoments of the game. I’ve helped students dealwith nightmares,divorces,andthedeathofalovedone.

ThestoriesAbbysharedwerelacedwithbothfearandpride.Yousee,Abby’sfatherwason activedutywith theArmy.As a result, she enteredmy second-grade classroomwith anunderstandingfarabovehertenderyears,oftheconflictsinbothIraqandAfghanistan.Moreimportantly,shewasawareof the impact thesefar-awayplacescouldhaveonherfamily.Itwasn’t long after school started that a somber-eyed Abby walked through the door. Hergreatest fearshadbeenrealized;herfatherwaspreparing to leave thefamily tocompleteasix-monthtourofduty.Irememberlisteningtothisbraveeight-year-oldtellherclassmatesthereasonwhyshewouldmissthenextdayofschool.ShedescribedthedreadeddrivetotheArmybaseandthemomentshewouldtellherfathergoodbyeinavoiceladenwithemotion.AsAbbyfinishedherannouncementandturnedtomeforcomfort,Isaidasilentprayerforherentirefamily.

ThatyearwasdifficultforAbby.Onaparticularlyupsettingdayearlyintheseparation,IsuggestedAbbywriteherfatheraletter.Iquicklyscrappedmylessonplansforteachingthestudents about the importance of adding details to their personal narratives and decided tointroduceletterwritinginstead.Whilemostofthestudentswroteletterstotheirfriendsaboutrecessplans,Abbywrote toher father.Shenevermentionedher fears,preferring tocreatesnapshotsoffamilyandschooleventshehadmissedwithherwords.Weplacedtheletterinan envelope and I sent it home for her mother to mail. When Abby left the room thatafternoon I sat at my desk and cried for the child who knew instinctively what her fatherwouldneedtohearthemost.

Abby’s letter writing became her therapy that year. For her benefit, I started includingstationeryasastapleinmywritingcenter.Soonhercheerylettersstartedarrivingonbrightly

coloredpaper.Shelovinglydecoratedeachlettershewrotewithdrawingsandstickers.AswepreparedforChristmas,allofthesecondgradersatmyschoolcollecteditemstoshiptothesoldiersoverseas.Lookingatthepileoftoiletryitems,phonecards,CDs,andsnacksonedayrightbeforeChristmasbreak,Abbyexplained thatwehad forgotten something important. Ifranticallylookedthroughmylistofrequesteditems,tryingtofindtheonesmallobjectthatwecouldhavepossiblyleftout.Abbyinformedmeitwasletters—thesoldiersneededletters.Again,Ithrewouttheplannedlessonsonfractionsandtraditionssothatmyclasscouldwriteallafternoon.Later,IpackagedupthedonatedsuppliesandcarefullyplacedthehandwrittenlettersandhomemadeChristmascardsontop.

Abby continued towrite letters to her fathermost of that year. It seemed hewas just asdiligentaboutreturningnotestohisonlydaughter…untillatespring.Abbyhadn’treceivedaletterinseveralweeksandtheoldfearsstartedtoreturn.Itriedmybesttocomforther,butitseemedhopeless.Afteraparticularlydifficultday,ImadethedecisiontoattempttotalkwithAbby’smotherwhenshecamethroughthecarlineatdismissal.Abbywaspressedtomysideasweapproachedthecarwiththetintedwindowsatconenumberfour.IpreparedtoleaninandvoicemyconcernsasIopenedthedoor.InevergotawordoutbecauseAbbystartedtoscream.Herbackpackdroppedonthesidewalkassheflewthroughtheopendoor,acrossthepassengerseat,andintoherfather ’slap!Thetearsransilentlydownhisfaceasheclutchedhis somewhathysterical daughter tohis chest. I took a seat besideAbby’sbookbagon thesidewalkandattempted to control the tears thatpoured frommyeyes.Theother carswerereroutedaroundconefourasthethreeofusstruggledtoregaincontrol.AsIwatchedAbbyandher fatherdriveawayIagain realizedhowprivileged teachersare tobeapartof theirstudents’lives.

~JennaHallman2009SouthCarolinaStateTeacheroftheYear

Scienceteacher,gradesK-5

TeachingtheTeacher

It’snotthatI’msosmart,it’sjustthatIstaywithproblemslonger.~AlbertEinstein

Theendoftheyearhadfinallyarrived.Thefirstyearofmyteachingcareerwouldbeoverinamatterofdays,butIdreadedAwardsDay.AlthoughIhadaclassofexceptionalstudents,Ifearedonestudentwouldn’thaveanaward.Brentjustdidn’thavethehighaveragesofsomeofhisclassmates.

AsIsatdownandbeganlookingovermygradebook,Ifilledintheblanksontheawardsheetforhighestgradeineachsubject.Then,Iproceededto“AHonorRoll”andonthroughthelist.WhenIbegancheckingaveragesfor“ABHonorRoll,”IknewBrenthadn’tmadeityet.Butwhile the nine-weekhonor rollwas determinedby the average of all grades for aquarter, theyearlyhonor rollwas theaverageof the finalgrade ineachclass for theyear.Maybetherewasachance.

Brent’s grades may have been considered average, but he was far from it. He was noquitter. If he failed a spelling test mid-week, by Friday, he would pass. If his math gradeslippedabit,he’dworktogetithigher.Unliketheotherstudentswhowouldoftenattemptto“oneup”oneanother,Brent’sonlycompetitionwashimself,andhisgoalfortheentireyearwastheABHonorRoll.

With each report card, his facehad fallenwhenhe’dmissed that elusiveBaverage, andalthoughhe’dnevermadehonorroll,he’dneverstoppedtryingtoreachthatgoal.Now,hehad one last shot. I entered his final grades into the computer and averaged. It was a B! Icheckedagain.Yes,itwasaB.

Hisgradeshadgoneupanddown.Whenhefocusedharderononesubject,anotherslippedabit.Overall,hehadaBaverage.

Now,Icouldn’twaitforAwardsDay!ThatMaymorningas Icalledout thehighestaverages ineachsubject, thestudentswere

excited,buttherewerereallynosurprises.Theyknewwhowouldreceiveeachaward.ThencameABHonorRoll. I calledBrent’s name.His eyes lit, a big grin split his face, and hejumped up andwhooped.While everyonewho got an awardmademe proud, when Brentcametogethiscertificate,Iblinkedbacktears.

Untilthatmoment,Iwastheteacherandhewasthestudent,butthetableshadturned.LittleBrent had taught me a valuable lesson—while the individual things we do may not beexceptional,togethertheyjustmightadduptosomethingamazing.Manyschoolyearshavecomeandgonesincethen.Idon’trememberwhohadthehighestmathaveragethatfirstyearI

taught,norwhichstudentwasmybestspeller,buttothisdayIstillrememberBrentandhisamazinglessoninpersistence.

~LisaMcCaskill

Ashley

Whensomeoneyoulovebecomesamemory,thememorybecomesatreasure.~AuthorUnknown

The2005schoolyearbeganafterwhatseemedlikeaperfectsummerbreak.Back-to-schoolbusiness took attention away from a great storm brewing in the Atlantic. But my WorldGeographystudentshadbeenplottingHurricaneKatrina’scoordinatesontrackingmapsfordays.WhenCentralOfficeclosedourschooltocomplywithamandatoryevacuationofourarea,mystudentswerethrilled.Formyfreshmen,thehurricanewasagreatexcusetobeoutofschool.Theyweren’tafraidofwhatwashappening.

Sixweeksafterthestormhit,Iwasbackinmyclassroom,gettingmyroomreadyforthereturnofmystudents.Sinceourschoolwasfairlyintact,wehadaninfluxofstudentsfrommoreheavilydamagedareas.Ourpre-Katrinastudentpopulationswere typicallyfromhighsocio-economicbackgroundsandfromsecondgenerationcollegegraduates.Butthatwouldchange.Ouroncehomogenoussuburbanschoolnowincluded teenagers fromrural fishingcommunities,impoverishedinnercitiesandtight-knit,indigenousethnicpopulations.

Itwasimportantforthestudentstotelltheirstoriesofsurvival,soforthefirstfewdays,we listened to each one. The questionswere endless. “Where did you evacuate to?” “Whathappenedtoyourhome?”“Wereanyfriendsorrelativesstillmissing?”“Whatdidyoulosethat meant the most to you?” It was heartbreaking, but it helped to be able to share thosecommonexperiences.Therewasonegirlwhostoodout.WhenAshleyhadfirstcomeintomyclassroom,shetookonelookaround,beamedabrightsmileandtookaseatinfrontofthewhitemarkerboard.Sheworethetelltalesignsofahurricanevictim—apairofflipflopsonherfeetandaT-shirtandshortsthatclearlywerenothersize.

WhenitwasAshley’sturntotellherstory,IcouldtellfromheraccentthatshewasfromtheespeciallyhardhitparishofSt.Bernard.Shehadlosteverythinginthestorm—herhome,herclothing,andallofher teenage treasures.Therewasonlyaslabwhereherhouseoncestood.Shesaidshemissedjustonepossession—herpinkjewelry.PinkwasAshley’sfavoritecolor.

That’swhenIrealizedwhyshelovedmyclassroomsomuch.Isponsoranall-girlserviceclub called Tri Theta, and our signature color is bright pink. Our T-shirts are pink and afourth ofmy classroomand itswall space are dedicated tomygirls in pink. In the cornerclosest towhereAshleysatwerepinkjeweledpictureframes,apinklamp,apinkshagrugandahugemirrordecoratedwithbigpink roses.Myclassroom,with itsburgundypainted

walls,goldloveseatandtablelampsseemedmorelikeahomethanatraditionalclassroom.She toldmeon severaloccasions that she felt like shewasback inherownpinkbedroomwhen she walked into my classroom. I was happy that my penchant for creating a cozylearningenvironmentwasmakingonedisplacedstudentfeelwarmandwelcomed.

Oururbanandruralstudentssoonbecameacclimatedtotheirnewsuburbanschool.Whennew student IDs were issued, Ashley asked if she could buy one of the pink sequined IDlanyardsthatIworeonTriThetameetingdays.Igladlygaveittoherandsheworeitallofthetime.Sheconfessedtomethatitfeltlikeabeautifulpinknecklace.Shecouldn’twaitforTriTheta’smeetingdaysothatshecouldseewhatkindofpinkget-upIwouldweartoschool.InadditiontomypinkclubT-shirt,Ioftenworeahotpinkboa,jeweledpinktiaraandneonpink glasses. She loved it! But she especially commented on my jewelry—a pink crystalnecklaceandmatchingbracelet. Itwas apparent that shewasmissingherownpinkbaubleseverytimesheadmiredmine.

IfoundmyselfaskingAshleyifshehadanythingfromherpast.Shesaidthatluckily,shehadloanedheraunta“MaryKateandAshleyinLondon”videotapebeforethestorm.Sincewewere studyingEurope, she asked if she couldbring the tape in for the class towatch. Iheartily accepted her offer. Shewas so proud to have something to give!WhenChristmastimecamearound,myTriThetagirlscollectedtoysforthosechildrenstilllivinginshelters.WhenAshleysawthetoyspiledupinmyroom,shebroughtinabrandnewbabydollfortheshelterkidsandapinkgiftbagforme. In itwas themostdelicioussmellinghand lotion—Victoria’s Secret’s “Pink” of course! Here shewas, giving to others after losing somuchherself.Iwasinaweofhergenerosity.

HavingAshleyinclasswasajoy.Shewaspuresunshine!Aftereachclass,Iwouldnoticeasmall flower drawn on themarker board behind her desk and themessage “I (heart)Mrs.Tonguis.” I never caught her writing it, but it was always there… until one day when shedidn’tshowupforschool.WhenIbuzzedStudentServicestoaskifAshleyhadrelocated,IwassummonedtomyVicePrincipal’soffice.Ashleyhadbeeninafatalcaraccidentearlythatmorning. I sat in stunned silence.WhatHurricaneKatrina hadn’t crushed inmy spirit, thisnewsdid.Beingahighschoolteacher,Ihadattendedfartoomanyteenagefunerals.Thisonejustmightbetheworstbyfar.

Herfuneralwasjustwhatshewouldhavewanted—ablanketoftheprettiestpinkrosesonherwhitecasketandhundredsoffriends.ThreefriendswhoAshleyhadvolunteeredtodrivehomefromaslumberpartysurvivedthecrashandweretherewithblackenedeyesandbrokenbones,numbwithgrief.Hermother,afterhavinglosteverythinginthestorm,nowlostheronlychild.AsIstoodlookingdownatAshley,inmyheadtotoepink,anodtoherfavoritecolor, I slipped thepinkcrystalbracelet shehadadmired sooften frommy“Pink” scentedwrist, and placed it on hers.When I tried to return Ashley’s videotape to hermother, sherefusedit,sayingthatAshleylovedmyclasssomuchthatitbelongedthereformystudentstoenjoy.

The next day,when I returned tomy classroom, I dreaded third hourwhen Iwould seeAshley’semptydesk.Ihadn’terasedthelastmessagesheleftonmyboard,butsomehowtheflower was rubbed off. It didn’t matter. From that day forward, one of Ashley’s many

newfoundfriendsfromclasswouldplaceafreshlypickedwildfloweronherdesk.ThatwasAshley’s desk… and it still is. TheArt Club painted bright pink flowers all over it in herhonor.Noonehassatinthatseatforfouryears.PerhapssomedayIwillbeabletolookatthatdeskandnotseeherthere.

KatrinablewthroughsouthernLouisianaandtookmanythingsaway,but italsobroughtpeoplelikeAshleyintoourlives,someoneweneverwouldhaveknownifithadn’tbeenforthathurricane.

~DeborahHohnTonguis2009LouisianaStateTeacheroftheYear

SocialStudiesteacher,grades9-12

StepbyStep

Thejobofaneducatoristoteachstudentstoseethevitalityinthemselves.~JosephCampbell

I’llneverforgetChelsea.Shewasawoundedsoul.Overtheyearsshehadalwaysstruggled—bothacademicallyandwith self-confidence. Inaddition,hermotherhaddiedafter aheroicbattle with a terminal illness when Chelsea was a fifth grader. As she began sixth grade,Chelseawasstillhurting.Iworriedaboutherwithgoodreason.

EachfallmyteachingpartnerandItakeoursixthgradersforafive-dayadventureatWolfRidge, an environmental learning center nestled in the woods of Northern MinnesotaoverlookingLakeSuperior.Ourweekisfilledwithlearning,teambuilding,andovercomingseemingly insurmountable challenges. We go in October, and the turning leaves—transitioningfromsummergreentofieryorange,brilliantyellow,andblazingred—cometosymbolize thechangeswesee inourstudentsover theweek.ThestepsandgrowthstudentsmakeatWolfRidgebecomeametaphorweusethroughouttheyearastheyfacechallengesintheclassroom.

TheculminatingactivityistheHighAdventureRopesCourse,whichstretchesfromtowertotowerhighamongstthetreetopsfortyfeetabovetheground.IknewthisexperiencewouldbeparticularlydifficultforChelsea.

When it came time for her to strap on the harness,Chelseawas already trembling.Theharnesshooksintoasafetywireoverheadandoffersphysicalprotection,butnotmuchmentalcomfortwhen nothing but a slippery board or awobblywire is between your feet and thegroundfarbelow.ChelseasteppedhesitantlyontotheSwingingWoodBridge,andonlyaftertheinstructor ’sencouragement,slowlymadeherwayacrossitsricketyboardsuptothefirsttower.Withthesupportofachaperonestationedthere,shebeganherwayacrosstheBurmaBridge, made of merely three wires and straps. Her trembling body added to its shaking.Fromdownbelow,hergroundpartner shoutedup supportively, “ComeonChelsea,you’redoinggreat!”

Shefinallyreachedthesecondtowerandtoldthechaperone,“Ican’tdoit.”ButeventuallyChelseasteppedoutontothenextchallenge—asinglelog—andslowlyinchedherwayacross.Shenowfacedwhatformanyisthemostdifficultactivity:theSingleWire.Shewouldn’tevenstepontoituntilIworkedmywayoverfrommyperchonthelasttowertothemiddleofthewire. I could see the terror in her eyes. I implored her to take just one step. With tearsstreaming down her face, she eventually did. And then another. Her classmates and our

chaperones, sensing Chelsea’s internal struggle, had gathered below and were offeringconstantwordsofaffirmationwhilemovingforwardinahuddledgroupasshecreptahead,stepbystep.Ultimately,shereachedthelasttower—exhausted.Shecollapsedinmyarmsandsobbed.

“Just one more big step, Chelsea,” I told her. The final challenge is a zip-line, whichrequiresleapingoffthatlasttowerandtrustingthattheguidewireabovewillcarryyousafelydown to thechaperoneswaiting100yardsdown thepath.Chelsea just stood there forwhatseemed likehours.“Ican’tdo it,” she toldmeoverandoveragainagainst thebackgroundcheersof theentire teamnowgatheredbelow.Finally,whenIwas justabout tosaythatshecouldturnaroundandgoback(somethingIhaveneverdone),shelookedupatmeandinanalmostimperceptiblewhispersaid,“TellthemdowntherethatI’mdoingthisformymom.Iknowshe’swatching,andIwanthertobeproudofme.”AsIyelled,“Thisisforhermom!”Chelsealeaped.

Seconds later she was enfolded in the waiting arms of chaperones and students whosecheerscouldbeheardechoingthroughthetreesformiles.Noneofustherewereeverquitethesame.EspeciallyChelsea.AndIwasremindedwhyIteach.

~DerekOlson2009MinnesotaStateTeacheroftheYear

Elementaryteacher,grade6

IWishEveryTeacheraKevonna

Whenyouaresorrowfullookagaininyourheart,andyoushallseethatintruthyouareweepingforthatwhichhasbeenyourdelight.

~KahlilGibran

“Why do you want to be a teacher?” I never could explain it without the usual obviousreasons,suchasmyloveofchildrenorwantingtomakeadifference.ItwasnotuntilImetKevonnathatItrulyknewthereasonIwantedtobeateacher.

Iwasrunninganafter-school/summerprogram.AyounggirljustfinishingseventhgradewalkedthroughthedoorsandIthoughttomyself,“Thisisgoingtobealongsummer.”ShewasastudentatmyschoolandIwaswellawareofwhoshewaseventhoughIwasaneighthgradeteacher.Herreservedplaceintheprincipal’sofficewaswellknownbytheeighthgradeteachersaswepreparedourselvesforthosestudentswhoweregoingtoneedextraattention.

IrackedmybraintryingtofigureoutwhatIwasgoingtodowithherallsummer.Ihadanew class of studentswith special needs. I usually hadmy older students act as classroomhelpersfortheyoungergrades,soIdecidedthatthiswouldbeagoodspotforher.LittledidIknowhowthatonelittledecisionwouldchangemylife,notonlyasateacher,butasaperson.

Kevonnatransformedbeforemyveryeyes.Sheshowedcompassionandpatiencewiththechildreninthatclassroom.Shewasresponsibleandcaringandshebeganreferringtothosestudentsas“herkids.”Iwitnessedanaturalteacherblooming.IhadanunforgettablesummerwithKevonna.

Soon the school year began and Kevonna and I were together again. This time ourrelationshipwas different. I was her teacher, not just the person in charge of her summercamp.Kevonnacontinuedtomakestridesandprovethatshehadadifferentoutlookonlife.Wehadaneighthgradeservicelearningclubatthetime.Ourassistantprincipalwasinchargeof theclubalongwithanothereighthgradeteacher.Theother teacherandIapproachedtheassistantprincipalaboutallowingKevonnatojoin.Hedeniedusatfirstbasedonherpreviousyear ’sacademicsandbehavior.Wekeptpushing, tellinghimthatshedeservedachance.Hefinally agreed. Kevonna not only became a member of the service club, but was votedpresidentbyherpeers.

Kevonnacontinuedtovolunteerwith“herkids”atmyafter-schoolprogram.Shecontinuedtomakestridesinschoolandimpresspeoplewithherdedicationandcharm.Hersmilewasinfectiousandhersenseofhumor,astounding.InJune,wealwayshadaculminatingactivitywith theserviceclubandstudentssharedwhat theyenjoyedabout theirexperience. Idonotbelieve that anyonewas prepared for what Kevonna had to say. She thanked every person

thereforbelievinginherandgivingherachance.Shewasgenuinelygrateful.Therewasnotadryeyeintheroom,studentsandteachersincluded.ShehadawonderfulyearandwalkedacrossthestageathereighthgradegraduationtoreceivetheMostImprovedStudentaward.Aftertheceremony,wereceivedgraciouswordsofgratitudeandpraisealongwithtighthugsfrom hermother.What a proud day that was forme. Kevonnawas extraordinary and herfuturewasshiningbright.

We continued to keep in touchwhen shewent to high school. She still volunteeredwith“herkids”andstillkeptusinformedofheracademicsandactivities.Kevonnasentalettertome,mycolleague,andourassistantprincipal. In that letter,she thankedusagainforgivingherachanceandbelievinginher.Shealsostatedthatshehadmadeherfinaldecisionandshewasgoingtobeateacher!Idon’tthinkIcouldhavefeltmorepridethanIdidatthatmoment.Herletterwastapedtomyrefrigeratorformonths.

Overtheyears,Imetotherwonderfulstudents,butnoonequitelikeKevonna.EverytimeIsawKevonna,sheputmeinagreatmood.Shealwayshadagiganticsmileonherfaceandgavemeagreatbighug.ShetrulylovedlifeandIfeltsospecialtobeapartofhers.

We shared a quick dinner of her favorite, Italian food, one fall. She caught me up oneverything thatwashappeningwithher.ShewasamemberofFutureTeachersofAmerica,doing well in school, applying to colleges, all the fun things that a young girl does. Sheinsistedonknowingeverylittledetailofmylifeandwhathadchangedatourschool.Itwasawonderfulevening.Iranintoher,hermom,andsisteragainatthegrocerystorerightbeforeThanksgiving.Whenshesawmeinthestore,shesquealedwithdelightasshealwaysdidandgavemeahugesmileandbearhug.Wesharedaquickconversationandwentourseparateways.

A couple of months later, on a Saturday morning in January, my telephone rang. Ianswered the phone and heard “Did you hear aboutKevonna? She died last night in a caraccident!”IclosedmyeyesandallIcouldseewasherbeautifulsmile.MyhusbandlookedatmeandwhenItoldhim,hestaredatmeindisbelief.Ihungupthephoneandbegansobbing.Shewasmyspecialstudentandmyshiningstar.Shehadawonderfulfutureaheadofher.

Isenthermotheracard,attachedacontestentrythatIwroteaboutKevonna,andincludedthe last picture of us. My husband and I attended her funeral; it was standing room only.EveryonetherewastouchedbyKevonna.Whenitcametimetopayourrespectstoherfamily,IdidnotknowhowIwasgoingtofacehermother.Whenshesawme,shehuggedmeandsaid,“Shelovedyousomuch.”Throughmytears,Iresponded,“Ilovedhertoo!”Thatdaywasfilledwithsorrow,butitwasalsoacelebration,acelebrationofKevonna.

NowwhenIthinkaboutwhyIbecameateacher,IthinkofKevonna.Shewastrulyanangelon earth. I miss her immensely. I have the last picture we took together hanging in myclassroomasadailyreminderofwhyIamthere.Onthosedayswhentherearestudentswhoaretestingmypatience,IthinkofKevonnaandrememberwhatadifferenceshemadeinmylife.IwisheveryteacheraKevonna;Iamtrulyhonoredandblessedtohavehadher inmylife.

~PatriciaL.Marini

SpecialTreatment

Weareallspecialcases.~AlbertCamus

Kayla sat in the back ofmy classroom. She usually had a rather dazed look about her, asthough she’d justnarrowlymissedbeinghit byabus.When I tried to engageher, shewasalways polite and respectful. She never broke any rules. However, I had a hard timedeterminingheracademicpotential.Shewasn’tfailing,butIhadasensethatshewascapableofmorethanthe“C’s”and“B’s”sheearned.

“Howwasyourweekend?”IaskedheroneMondaymorning.Herroteresponse,“Fine,”greetedmyearsuncertainly.“Iseverythingokay?”Iasked.Sheseemedmoredazedthanusual.Kaylashookherheadandthennodded.“Mybrotherwashomefortheweekend.”Therewasnothing inmy file abouther family situation. Imentionedher to a colleague

whohadtaughtherthepreviousyear.“Poorkid,”shesaid.“Hastwosiblingswithautism.Oneofthemhadtobeinstitutionalized.

Guesshecomeshomesometimes.”That explained a great deal aboutKayla’s behavior. She tiptoed past students, always on

alertthatonemightdosomethingunexpected.“Thekidwassoshellshockedthatatonepoint theparentsthoughtshemighthavesome

sortofdisabilityaswell.”“Iwishsomeonehadtoldmethisatthebeginningoftheyear.”“Sorry,”mycolleaguereplied.“Iwentthroughthesamethinglastyear.Shouldhavegiven

youaheadsup.”Returningtomyclassroomwithanewunderstanding,aswellasaplantolookupmore

aboutautism,IsawKaylaatthelunchtableswithawomanwholookedvaguelyfamiliar.Shewasn’tonstaffattheschool.PerhapsI’dmetheratback-to-schoolnight.

“How was lunch?” I asked her. “Was that your mother?” Most middle school childrenwouldhavediedofembarrassmentatthethoughtofaparentshowinguptohavelunchwiththem.

Kaylasmiled.“Yeah.Shehaslunchwithmesometimes,whenshecangetaway.”“Whatanicetreat,”Iresponded.“Itisnice,andcalmandquiet.TheonlytimeMomandIcantalk.”SuddenlyIunderstood.“Mustbehardathomewithyourbrothers.”“Well,myparentsworkreallyhardandtheytrytofindwaystogivemeattention,too.ButI

understand.”At that moment, Kayla seemed to me so mature for her age. She didn’t care what any

studentsthoughtabouthavinglunchwithhermotheratschool.Shestolemomentswherevershecouldfindthem.

Iwouldnevercompletelyunderstandwhatlifewaslikeforherathome.Somedayswerebetterthanothers;IcouldalwaystellbylookinginKayla’seyes.

In fact, she shuffled in the day of an important test looking like she could use a goodnight’ssleep.

“Kayla?”Ibegan,butsheinterrupted,nearlyintears.“Icouldn’t…Ididn’t…thetest….”“Badnight?”Iaskedwithoutneedforelaboration.Kaylasimplynodded.Iwroteanoteonthehealthslip.“Here.Whydon’tyougoliedowninthenurse’soffice

untilnextperiod.Youcantakethetesttomorrow.”Thegirl lookedconfused,grateful,andhesitantallatonce.“I…Idon’twantanyspecial

treatment.”“Kayla,weareallspecial.Andeveryoneneedsalittlespecialtreatmentfromtimetotime.”

~D.B.Zane

Clinton

Personalrelationshipsarethefertilesoilfromwhichalladvancement,allsuccess,allachievementinreallifegrows.

~BenStein

Ihavespentthepastnineteenyearsteachingawiderangeofmathematicalconceptsandskills.In that time, I figure I have taught the quadratic equation approximately 100 times, thePythagoreanTheoremat leastasmany timesand Ihavecertainly lostcountofhowoften Ihaveworkedouttheslopeofalineonachalk-board.IwouldliketothinkIdidafantasticjobeachandeverytimeIpresentedthoseconceptstomystudents.Ironically,Idon’thaveastrongrecallofanyofthoseinstances.WhatIdohavearepowerfulmemoriesofspecificstudentswhotouchedmeinaveryrealandpersonalway.

Facesandnamesbeyondcounthavecomeandgoneinmyclassroom.Itrulybelieveinthenew three R’s of education—Relationships, Relevance and Rigor. Building qualityrelationshipswithmystudents is thekey tomysuccessasaclassroomteacher.Sometimes,those relationships forged in the classroom are the differencemakers for a student. I havebeen fortunate towatchmanyofmypast studentsgoonandbecomesuccessful andhappy.Eachonehasenrichedmeinsomeway.However,themostsignificantlessonIhavelearnedcamefromoneveryspecialstudent.

Clintonwasagreatexampleofthestudenteveryteacherlovestohaveinclass.Hewastheonly student at school who was awarded scholarships from three different school-basedgroups including the administration, the certified teaching staff and the classified supportstaff.LookingbackintoClinton’spast,onewouldseethathehadtraveledfar.AnimmigrantfromthePhilippinesattheageoftwelve,Clintonandhisfamilyworkedhardtobecomelegalcitizens.IhadClintonfortwoyearsinhighschool.Hisfuturelookedbrightandhehadhiswhole life in frontofhim.Knowinghis familyhad limitedEnglish skills, IhelpedClintonwith his scholarships and applications. All of us were very proud when he announced hewantedtostudytobeateacherbecauseweknewhewouldimpactstudents’livesinthefuture.

Unfortunately,Clintonnevermadeittocollege.Justtwodaysafterhegraduatedfromhighschool,Clintonwasdiagnosedwithstagefourcoloncancer.Itwasaterminaldiagnosisandthedoctorsheld littlehope thatcancer treatmentswoulddomore thanprolong theeventualoutcome.Wewereheartbroken.Clintonwouldneverattendcollege.Hewouldneverteach.Hewouldnevermarry.Hewouldneverhavechildren.

Clinton’s teachers and friends responded in the onlywaywe knew how.We extended a

handofhelpandcomforttoClintonandhisfamily.Fundraisingactivitieswereorganizedattheschoolandmanyofushelpedthefamilynavigatethecomplexavenuesofthehealthcaresystem.“PacktheTrack”becameahugecelebrationofClinton’slifeandwhatherepresentedtohisfriendsatschool,teachersandothercommunitymembers.Intheend,over$8,000wasraisedatthisevent.Billswerepaid,paperworkfiledandmanyanhourwasspentbyClinton’ssideinthehospitalashisbodydeteriorated.

ClintonpassedonOctober16th.ThoseofuswhohadworkedwithClintonat schoolofcourse were deeply saddened by his death. But, Clinton’s experience also awakened arealization for us that the truemission of our school is beyond the factual knowledge andskillsweteachtostudents.Wearehelpingyoungsterslearntogrowandmatureintocaringpeople—peoplewho value relationships as the key to a good life. And the three R’s??? Ifteachers don’t constantly work to build positive relationships with students, then we arefailingthoseverysamestudents.Clintonprovedtomethatrelationshipsarethekey.AT-shirtwas sold to help raise funds for Clinton’smedical care.On the front of that shirtwas thefollowing:“Loveisaverb.”ForallofuswhoknewandlovedClinton,wehavecometoactonthatstatementandwebelievethatitwillmakeallthedifferenceintheworld.

~CindyCouchman2009KansasStateTeacheroftheYear

Mathteacher,grades9-12

NotinMyClass

Inallaffairsit’sahealthythingnowandthentohangaquestionmarkonthethingsyouhavelongtakenforgranted.~BertrandRussell

“Please don’t put that child inmy class!” Itwas partly a prayer toGod andpartly a silentrequesttothethird-gradeteachers.Iknewthattheywouldbedecidinghowtodistributenextyear ’s fourth graders among the three teachers, and Iwas sure Iwouldn’t be able to loveDanny.

“Howcanateacherbeanygoodifshedoesn’tloveherstudents?”Ihadwondered.Iknowthatchildrenhaveanuncannysenseaboutwhentheyarereallyliked,andIdidn’twanttotrytoteachastudentwhocouldtellIdidn’tlikehim.

Everyschool-dayafternoonforthreeyearsIhadobservedDanny.Heturneduphisnoseatclassmates,madefacesatteacherswhentheirheadswereturned,andpoutedwhencorrected.“Iwillnotbeabletoputupwiththat,”Ifumed.“Icannothavehiminmyclassroom.”

Duringthefollowingsummer,asalways,IaskedGodtoputthestudentsinmyroomwhoIwouldbeable to teacheffectively.As Ipulledweedsorwashedwindowsor relaxedon theporchwithaglassoftea,Iwonderedwhotheywouldbe.Wouldtherebenewstudents?WouldIgetthecutelittlegirlwiththebigeyes?Thefunnylittleboywiththeadorablesmile?Thegoodreaders?Thenaturalactors?SurelyIwouldn’tgetDanny;GodknewIcouldnot takeDanny.

WhenAugustrolledaroundandfacultyreportedforin-service,eachteamofteachersmetto compile class lists for the next grade.Sinceweknew the children,weknewwhowouldworkwell together,whichparentswouldbegoodforpartiesandfield trips,whichstudentswouldrequireextraattention,andwhocouldbecountedontobeteachers’helpers.Westrovetoputtogethergood,balancedclasses,everawarethatsomeoneelsewasdoingthesameforus.

Whenallthelistswerecomplete,ourprincipalwentoverthemforfinalapproval,andthatwasthat.Thefactthatwedidn’thaveanypartinchoosingourstudentswasreallyaprotectionforusaswellasthechildren;wecouldnotbepressuredintoincludingacertainchildonourroster,andnostudentwasusedinanykindofdeal.Wetrustedoneanotherandourprincipal,butawaitedtheselistswithhighanticipation,eagernotonlytoseewhowewouldspendtheschoolyearwith,butalsotogetstartedmakingnametagsfordesksandpreparingdisplaystowelcomeournewstudents.

WhenMrs.Harmonbroughtmylist,IheldmybreathasIscannedthenames.Somewere

unfamiliar tome.Thatwasalways fun; I enjoyed introducingnewstudents to theclassandhelpingthemfeelathomeinanewschool.Therewerealsosomenamesthatmademesmile—childrenIhadwatchedovertheyearsandalreadyloved.Then…Icouldhardlybelievemyeyes!TheonechildIknewIcouldn’tteachwasrightthereonmylist.Instantlyhisroundface—completewiththatsmirky,self-satisfiedsmile—flashedonthescreenofmymind.“Icannotlovethischild!”Ithought.“Surelythereisamistake.”Allthoseprayersfortheclassthatwasrightforme,andnowthis.

ButIwasaprofessional.I tookafewmomentstofeelsorryformyself,andgotbacktowork. Iwouldmake the name tags, finishmybulletin boards, plan interesting lessons, andhopeforthebest.Ihadabrandnewroomthatyearinanewbuilding.Iwasn’tabouttoletthislittlesetbackruinmyexcitement.

Thencamethefirstweekofschool.Inthemidstofdiscussingsummerreading,diagnosingmathneeds,andmakingfinaldecisionsforfield trips,myDannydilemmawastemporarilyforgotten.Wewerealllearningtoworktogether.Onanoutingtoapondforsomehands-onstudy,studentssharedmagnifyingglasses,nets,andpencils.Walkingalongapaththroughthewoodsandsittingaroundpicnictableswithourlunchgavemeachancetogettoknoweachchildbetter—includingDanny. Iwasnot surprised to find thathewas intelligent,butdidn’texpecthimtohavesuchagoodsenseofhumor.Maybehegrewupalotoverthesummer,Imused.

WhenDannygotintoafightwithJoe,oneofournewcomers,Idiscoveredsomethingelse.Likeagood teacher, Iheardbothsidesof thestorybefore taking theboys to theprincipal.AlthoughIcouldnotcondonefighting,itdidseemtomethatDannymadesomeconvincingpoints.When I sawscratchmarksonhisneck from the tussle, I feltveryprotective towardhim.CoulditbethatIwaslearningtoactuallyliketheboy?

Andthat’showithappened.AgainandagainIfoundmyselfdrawntoDannyandnoticingmoreandmoreofhisgoodpoints.Bytheendoftheyear,Icouldhonestlysay,“Ilovethatboy!”Itwasoneofthoselittleironiesthatmaketeachingsointeresting.Dannyeventually,ofcourse,movedontofifthgrade,andinafewyearsImovedovertohighschoolEnglish.

Tomydelight,oneAugustday I lookedatmynewclass rosters for seniorEnglishandrecognizedmanyofthenames,oneofthemDanny’s.Itwouldbeinteresting,Ithought,toseehowhehadturnedout.IfoundthatDannystillhadacleversenseofhumorandanimpressivevocabularythatmadehisessaysadelighttoread.Wehadagoodyeartogether,builtonthefoundationfromyearsearlier.Duringclassoneday,IrealizedthatDanny,whoappearedtobestudiously following along in the text, was instead reading a paperback concealed in hisEnglishbook. I took thebook fromhimanddropped it intomydeskdrawer.Manyweekslater,neartheendoftheyear,Dannystayedafterclass.

“CanIhavemybookback?”“Yes.IhopeyouunderstandwhyItookit.”“Yes,ma’am.Ishouldn’thavebeenreadingit.I’msorryforthewayIacted.”“Iappreciateyourgoodattitude.YouknowIlikeyou,Danny.”“Yes,ma’am.Iknow”Ashewalkedoutthedoor,Irememberedmyfrantichopesthatthisboywouldnotbeinmy

class,andIhadtosmile.Hehadgrownintoadignifiedyoungmanwhowouldcertainlymakeusproud—oneofthoseunexpecteddelightsthatcomeoverandovertothosewhoteach.

~SherryPoff

TheHeartofEmily

Optimismisthefoundationofcourage.~NicholasMurrayButler

Emily did not look like other infants when she was born. She had a distinct appearancefacially, standing out among the other babies in the hospital. She was born with ApertSyndrome,whichaffectsphysicalappearanceinseveralways.Iwasfirstintroducedtomanyof thefactsof this raresyndromewhenEmily’smothercamein tospeak tomeafewdaysbefore first grade. I began to feel a bond with Emily before meeting her because of thewindowhermotherhadopened,allowingme togetasenseof this remarkablechild. IwasalsoabsorbingtheveryessenceofEmily’smother ’sstrengthandwisdomaswespoke.

Emilyhadexperiencedsixteenoperationsbytheageofsix.Typically,childrenwithApertSyndromearebornwithwebbedfingersandtoes.OneofthesurgeriesEmilyenduredwastoseparate her fingers so that she could hold pencils, utensils, and other objects, despite nothavingknuckleswithwhich tobendher appendages.Her facedidnot growproportionallybecauseshewasbornwithoutanopeninginherskull.Thisyoungchildwasalltoofamiliarwithhospitals,theirprocedures,andpersonnel.

Now Emily found herself in a new school, a different classroom, with unfamiliarclassmates and adults. This amazing child required an aide to assist her with physical andacademictasks, thoughourgoalwastohelpherachieveasmuchindependenceaspossible.Shelocatedhernameonadeskjustastheotherchildrendid.Thestudentshadtofollowmydirectionstoemptytheirschoolbagsandplacesupplieswheredirected.Inoticedalittlegirl’sstartledexpressionasshefocusedonEmily.Emilysmiledatthechildandthelittlegirlsmiledback. Such incidents recurred during the day with Emily repeatedly rewarding a differentclassmatewith a smile, a littlewave, or both.Never did a student inmy class questionmeaboutthiskind,sweet,happychildortreatherunkindly.Infact,myclassroomwasaplaceinwhichwewereallenrichedbyEmily’spresence.

Thefirsttimemyteachingaidehadtoleavetheroom,achildjumpedupandaskedifshecouldhelpEmily.ThisgirlstoodoverEmily,dottingwordsandsentencesforher to trace,exactlyasheraidedideachmorning.Myclassroomwassetupintables,fourtofivedesksmakingatable.Emilyandthisclassmatedidnotsitatthesametableyetsheknewexactlyhowtohelp.Sheevenwhisperedwordsofencouragementandpraise.Whentheassistantreturned,thepreciouslittlehelperquietlyreturnedtoherseat.

Another time, twoof themore livelyboys inourclass jumpedupshoutingout that theywouldliketobeEmily’shelpers.Ialloweditandwitnessedincrediblechangescomeoverthe

two.Eachcalmeddown,gentlyhelpingEmilyuntilthereturnoftheaide.Onemorningalittlegirlwhooftenhadtroubleconcentratingonherworkbecauseshewasveryinterestedinwhateveryone else was doing was the first to ask to help Emily. As always, I responded, “Ofcourse!”ThischildassistedEmilybyhelpinghertocountandadd.Theircollaborationmetwithsuccess.Andtheotherchildmanaged togetallherworkdone,without looking toseewhatothershadwrittenontheirpapers.Acuteredheadedgirloftenstaredintospacerarelycompleting required tasks. Despite this fact, this smart-as-a-whip, freckle-faced child wasusually righton themarkwhenansweringquestions.Thenonedayshevolunteered tohelpEmily.Thegirlshuggedeachotheratthecompletionofthetask,havingremainedfocusedtheentiretime.

DuringparentconferencesIlearnedwhatsomeofthechildrensharedwiththeirparents.Averyadvancedfirst-graderwhosatnexttoEmilyspokeofherathome.Hisdadtoldmethathissonexplainedthatitwasdifficultforotherstounderstandherbutthathecouldunderstandeverythingshesaid.TheparentsdidnotknowthatEmilywasspecialuntil theymetherataschool function.Another parent toldme that her son expressed thatEmilywas theprettiestgirl intheclass.Asingledadtoldmehissonrepeatedlyaskedtohaveaplaydatewithher.Andhedid!Indeed,manyofthechildrenhadplaydateswithEmily.

ThencamethatdayinMarchwhenEmily’smomtoldmeshewastohavefacialsurgery.OurblondsunshinewouldbeoutofschoolfromtheendofAprilthroughtheremainderofthe school year. In addition to being extremely apprehensive for Emily, I was deeplyconcerned about the other students. I had to explain her absence and clarified that Emilyneeded an operation on her face to help her feel more comfortable when speaking andsleeping.Iwasaskedmanylogicalquestions.“Didithurt?”“Canshespeak?”“Willshecomeback?”

Emily’s hospital conduct further illustrated her exceptional bravery. Her parents relatedhowshewalkedintothehospitalwheelingherpinkcarry-onfilledwithspecialphotographs,letters,stuffedanimals,andtoys.Shetoldherfather,“Idonotwantyoutocarrymeintotheoperatingroom.”Sheexplainedtotheattendingnursethatshedidnotwantanymedicineanddidn’twanttoweartheblueoperatingroomcaporchangeintohospitalclothes.Shewasnotmade todoanyof those thingswhileawake.Emilywalked into theoperatingroomfor theseventeenthtimeonherowntwofeet!Herdadtoldmehowhefelthumbledwhenhesawthesevereproblemsofotherchildreninthathospital.

ItwasinevitablethatsomeofthechildrenwouldseeEmilyafterheroperation,beforeshecametoschoolforavisit.Ihadtoexplainthatshewaswearingsomethingthatlookedlikeacatcher ’smaskonherface.Wediscussedthecastsoneoftheboyshadonhislegsfollowingsurgeryduringthissameschoolyear.Theyrememberedthathislegsneededtobeprotectedand realized Emily’s face needed protection as well. The mask was purple and Emily’sdoctorsandfamilyreferredtoitasPurple.SomeofthechildrenviewedEmilyinhermom’scarpickingupherbrotherfromschool.Somevisitedherathome.Eachchildwhosawhercametoschoolelatedandgreetedtheclassbyshouting,“IsawEmily!”Myconcernsforherclassmateswereallayedasnotonechildwhohad seenhermentionedPurple.Andyes,myfirst-graders had the ability to perceive the heart of Emily and I feel certain that she will

continuetouseherremarkablestrengthofcharactertosurmountthestrugglesshehasyettoface.

~StephanieScharagaWinnick

TheTeacherWhoChangedMyLife

Ateacher’spurposeisnottocreatestudentsinhisownimage,buttodevelopstudentswhocancreatetheirownimage.

~AuthorUnknown

DivineIntervention

Onelooksbackwithappreciationtothebrilliantteachers,butwithgratitudetothosewhotouchedourhumanfeelings.Thecurriculumissomuchnecessarymaterial,butwarmth

isthevitalelementforthegrowingplantandforthesoulofthechild.~CarlJung

So many times I’ve been asked the notorious educator question, “Why do you teach?”Sometimes the answer is just purely simple and easy to answer, but when I scrutinize themultitudeof reasonswhyI teach, theanswer ismuchmorecomplicated thanmeets theeye.OnethingthatusuallycomesimmediatelytomymindisthatIneedtoteach!Inallhonesty,teaching is inmanyways one of the largest defining facets ofwho I am as a person. I’mcomplete,genuinelyhappyandirrevocablyaddictedtowatchingmystudentsgrowascitizens,meetchallengesandachievesuccessonadailybasis.

MyjourneyofbecomingateacherbeganwhenIwasinfourthgrade….In the fallof1980, Iwasmoving for theeighth timeand Iwasonlynineyearsold.Far

worsethanthat,myfatherhadrecentlypassedawayfromlungcancerinlatespringandmymaternal grandparents had passed away as well that summer. To make things a bit morechallenging,mymotherwasdivorcingher secondhusbandduringallof this, andweweremovinginwithhernewboyfriendwhoendedupbeingmysecondstepfather.Myemotionalstatewasquitefragile;Iwasextremelysadandhadsomeanxietyaboutgoingtoyetanothernewschool.

Bywhat I like tonowcall divine intervention, Iwasplaced inMrs.Dutton’s classroom.This incredible woman recognized that at this crucial point in my life, my soul needednurturingasmuchasmy intellect, ifnotmore,andsheembraced thischallenge.Daily, sheprovidedmewithencouragingwordsandpraise,whichultimatelymademewanttobelieveinmyself.Herenthusiasmforteaching,hercompassiontowardsherstudents,andherabilitytofindwhatitwasthatmadeusindividuallyshinewaswhatmademewanttoteach.Morethananything,Iwantedtobejustlikemyfavoriteteacher.Byhighschool,myflameforteachingstillburnedbrightly,asIcontinuedonthepathtowardsbecominganelementaryteacher.

Throughoutmyteachingjourney,Mrs.Duttonremainedaguidingpresenceinmylife.Sheattended my high school and college graduation parties as well as my wedding. Ourrelationshipcontinued togrowevendeeperwhenIwashiredasafifthgrade teacher in thesameschoolwhereshewasworking,theschoolwhereshefirstcameintomylifeinfourth

grade, Congin Elementary School. (The same school I still teach at, by the way.) As abeginning teacher she quickly put me under her wing and continued to nurtureme asmymentor.Mrs.RobertaDutton-Morrillhasinfact,neverleftmyside.

Ourconnectionrunssodeep,thatwhenIwasnamedanomineeforMaine’sTeacheroftheYear,myhometownnewspaper,theAmericanJournal,ranastoryaboutme.Mrs.Duttondidnotknowthiswashappeningatthetime,asshewaslivingathersummerhomeandhadtogopickuphermailfromthepostofficeontheparticulardaythestorywasreleased.Likeatrue-blueWestbrookcitizen,shestillhadtheAJ forwardedtoherhomeinBelgradeLakes.Thatveryday,asMrs.Duttonwent in togethermail,apostalclerkaskedherwhatshedidasaprofessionbefore retiring.Mrs.Dutton told theclerkabouthercareerasa teacher,and theclerk said something to the effect that she, Mrs. Dutton, must have touched many of herstudents’lives.Myformerteacherthenwentontotelltheclerkaboutthisonelittlegirlshehadbackintheearly1980s,agirlwhohadjustlostherdadandwasgoingthroughatoughsituation,andendedherstorywithhowthatlittlegirlgrewuptobecomeateacherwhostayedin touch with her on a regular basis. During that whole conversation with the clerk,Mrs.Duttonheldinherhandsthatday’smail.

Uponreturninghomeshestartedtobrowsehermailandthereonthefrontpagewasthearticleaboutthatlittlegirl,theformerstudentshesoloved,me.Whenshestartedtoreadthearticleshewasflabbergastedtoseealargeportionwasdedicatedtoher;itwentontosayhowherinfluencehadmadeaworldofdifferencetomeandhowIvaluethewholechildduetoherguidance.Laterthatnightmyphonerang.YoucanimaginehowthrilledIwastohearMrs.Dutton’svoice,thevoiceofanangel.Asshetoldmethestoryaboutwhathadhappenedatthepostofficeearlierthatday,mybodywasencasedingoosebumpsfromheadtotoe.ThatiswhenshealsotoldmeabouthowshealwaysfeltthatIhadcomeintoherlifenotbychance,butratherbydivineintervention;thisstatementbroughtmetotears.

Justthispastfall,IwaspresentedtheextraordinaryprivilegeofbeingnamedMaine’s2009TeacheroftheYear.Canyouguesswhowasintheaudienceatthesurpriseassembly?Whenitcame time to givemy speech, all I could think to saywas how somany times duringmyfifteenyearsasateacher,IwouldmentiontomystudentsthatIonlywishedIcouldbehalfoftheteacherthatMrs.Duttonwastome.EveryyearIwouldtalkabouther,andmystudentsallknewwhomyfavoriteteacherwaswithoutadoubt,byname.Atthatsurpriseassembly,Iwasgivenanopportunity to sharewithmystudents, colleagues,parents, familyandcommunitywhat thisamazingwomanmeant tomeandhowshehadmadeaprofounddifferenceinmylife.

Moreimportantly,asMaine’sTeacheroftheYear,Igottohonorthemanyunsungheroes,our teachers! Mrs. Dutton never got an award such as this one; however, she did getsomethingbetterthanthat—shewillforeverliveinherstudents’heartsassomeonewhohadcompassion,respect,andanabundanceofloveforherstudents.Inherpresenceweallshined,andifyouaskme,thatiswhatteachingisallabout.

WhydoIteach?Iteach,becauseitismypassionanditfeedsmysoul.

~GloriaL.Noyes

2009MaineStateTeacheroftheYearElementaryteacher,grade5

It’saGreatDaytoBeAlive!

Mayyoulivelifeeverydayofyourlife.~JonathanSwift

I stinkatmath. I reallystinkat it.Early in life, this lackofskill laid thegroundworkforastrongdisliketowardthesubjectandanongoingefforttoavoiditatallcosts.Sohowisitthatthemostinfluentialpersoninallofmyeducationalcareerwasmyhighschoolmathteacher?

AsafreshmaninhighschoolIwasfarfromamathteacher ’sdreamstudent.Mymindwasfullofthingsthathighschoolgirlstendtofocuson:boys,boys,andwell…boys.Iimmersedmyselfinmysociallife,andmyclassesoftentookabackseattootherpriorities.

Iwalked intoMr.A’sclassroomachattyandbubbly fourteen-year-oldgirl.Myprimaryfocuswasonpickingagoodseat,surroundedbymyfriendsandwitheasyaccesstothedoor.Fromdayone,IwasveryvocalabouthavingadistainformathandIwasevenmorevocalaboutmy constant confusion. Itwas not uncommon forme to give upmidway through anassignment,orzoneoutduringalessonbecauseIdidn’tunderstandit.Itwasn’tthatIdidn’twanttodowell,butsimplythatIdidn’tthinkIwascapableofdoingwell.“Ican’t,”becamemypermanentstateofmindinallthingsmathrelated.

However,Iwassoontolearnthat“Ican’t”wasnotanoptioninMr.A’sclass.On the first day of class, Mr. A greeted us with his arms extended as he proclaimed,

“Welcome!Smile! It’s agreatday tobealive!”Thatphrase,which Iwouldhear frequentlyover the course of the next four years, became an ever-present source of comfort andfamiliarity.Fromthatmomentforward,itwasclearthatMr.Ahadatruepassionnotonlyformath, but for teaching. His positive and uplifting attitude never faltered. If Mr. A everexperiencedthebaddaysofnormallife,henevershowedit.Whilesometeachersforcefullytoldusnottocrossthem,theywere“justhavingabadday,”Mr.Agreeteduswiththatsameenthusiasmeachandeveryday.

Thiswelcoming and uplifting personalitymirroredMr.A’s teachingmethods.Not onlywere his methods engaging, but his positive attitude was contagious. He encouraged eachstudent,fromthevale-dictoriantotheself-proclaimed“Ican’t”student.

I found myself looking forward to math class, despite the fact that I still despised thesubject itself.Therewas just something about being inMr.A’s presence thatmademe feelgood,asifIhadthepotentialtosucceed.However,mystoryisnotoneofovernightsuccess.Ididnotbecomeastraight-Amathstudent,andIcontinuedtostrugglewithseveralconcepts.Infact,itwasinMr.A’sclassthatIreceivedmyfirstfailingtestgrade,andIcanstillremembermy eyes filling with tears as I stared at the 63 in bold red letters. I had failed. Andmore

importantly,IhadfailedMr.A.This63becameadefiningmomentinmymathcareer.Icouldhavegivenupandusedthe

scoreasprooftoMr.AandtomyselfthatIwasnotmeanttodowellinmath.Similarly,Mr.Acouldhavegivenuponme.Butinstead,hedidtheopposite.Hebecameevenmoredeterminedtohelpmewithmymath,andevenmoreimportantly,tohelpmeseemypotential.

Astheyearprogressed,mydeterminationtosucceedgrew.Ispentanincreasingamountoftimeonmyhomework,andImetwithMr.Aweekly.Myclassmatesbegantodothesame,andit became “cool” to have lunch with Mr. A. We didn’t know it at the time, but he wastransformingourattitudes.Myhardworkbegan topayoffandmygradesslowlybegan toclimb.Therewere road bumps, of course.Lowgrades and difficult concepts threatened todeterme, and sometimes succeeded in bringingme down.But a frown onmy face almostalwaysresultedinabellowing,“Kate,smile!It’sagreatdaytobealive!”

Theyearcametoanend,andmyclassmatesandIweresurprisedtofindourselvessadtomove on from ninth grade math.We had found a home for ourselves inMr. A’s class, acomfortable learning environment which we feared would be impossible to replicate in adifferent teacher ’sclassroom.And itwas.Tenthgradeproved tobea struggle:anewmathteacher, new topics, and a sense of solitude.Mr. A’s engaging lessons were replaced withhoursofbusywork,andmygrades reflected this lackofpersonalattention. I longed tobebackinMr.A’sclass,andIwasoverjoyedtofindmyselfthereagainthefollowingyear.

My junior and senior years were marked with many milestones: prom, the SATs,graduation.But perhaps themost importantmilestoneswere the accomplishments that tookplacebackinMrA’sclass.A’sonthemathsectionofmyreportcard,anearlyperfectscoreonmymathSAT,andafeelingofinnerpridethatIhadneverbeforeexperienced.

Highschoolisundoubtedlyatimeofgrowth,bothphysicallyandemotionally,aswellasacademicallyandsocially.IcanhonestlysaythatIexperiencedmuchofthisgrowthsittinginmysecondrowseat,justbehindthedoor,inMr.A’sclassroom.Today,whentheworkispileduponmydeskandIfeelmymindbeginningtothink“Ican’t,”Ihearadeepvoiceinthebackofmymindremindingmetotakeadeepbreathandremember:it’sagreatdaytobealive.

~KateLynnMishara

TheGiftofSelf-Esteem

Tofreeusfromtheexpectationsofothers,togiveusbacktoourselves—thereliesthegreat,singularpowerofself-respect.

~JoanDidion

Iremembertheday.IwasinSeniorEnglish,twoweeksawayfromhighschoolgraduation.Ilived two lives:oneasanunderachiever in theclassroomand theotheras theesteemedat-home tutor who helped my younger brother overcome the obstacles of learning withAttention Deficit Disorder. I wrote really bad raps to help him memorize those mundanehistoryfactshewouldberequiredtoregurgitateonatest.Iusedapictureofahamburgertoteachhimthelayersofwritinganessay.IfilmedplaysinwhichIalsotookarole,hopinghewouldfeelasenseofpersonalachievement.Inshort,IwasmorechallengedandmotivatedbytutoringmybrotherthanIwasbymyownstudiesoranyteacherinschool.Myparentsknewmeascreativeandtalentedbutmyteachersonlyknewmeasaclassicunderachiever.

The epiphany came that day in Senior English. We had finished our work early, andburstingwithmynews,Iwalkeduptomyteacher ’sdeskandstoodwatchingherentergradesinhergradebook.Iwaitedforanacknowledgement.Gettingnone,Istarted,“IknowwhatIwanttodo.”

Shedidn’tlookup,butkeptenteringfinalgrades.“Yes,Leanne,whatisityouwanttodo?“Iwanttoteach!”Iexclaimed,fullofprideandpurpose.Herpencametoadeadhaltasshe

slowlyremovedhereyeglassesandlookedupatmestandingeagerlyoverherdesk.Shesawa2.3GPAstandinginfrontofherwithdreamsthatseemedtocontradictthatreality.Shesawashy, aimless young lady who seemed more interested in social aspirations than anythingacademic.Shesawfailureandindifferencetosuccess.

“Really,” she retorted. Itwasnotaquestion,butacomment. Inodded,waitinganxiouslyfor her confirmation and encouragement. It didn’t come. Instead, she advised, “Youmightwant to rethink thatdecisionbecause I’m justnotsureyouarecollegematerial.” Idigestedthatforamoment,waitingforanythingelseshemightadd,butnothingcame.Shestaredatmeas if Iwassupposed todigest thosewordsofwisdom thoughtfully, so I satbackdown,allowingherperceptionofmetodefinemypotentialandfuture.

ThatdayI toldmyparentsIwouldnotbegoing tocollege.Luckily,myparents toldmedifferently.Fouryearslater,IgraduatedfromoneofthetopthreeschoolsineducationwithintheUnitedStates, at the time,and receivedadoublemajor inSecondaryEnglishEducation

andCommunicationsandTheaterArts.I still remember thathighschool teacherand theeffect shehadonmyself-esteem.With

thatpersonalexperience,mymissionstatement issquarelymountedonmyclassroomdoorthat,amongothergoals,highlightsmypurposeof“raisingmystudents’self-esteemthroughpersonalachievement.”Researchandeducation journalsagreewith thisambitiousgoal,butultimatelytheproofcameformeonthedayIwascalledtotheprincipal’soffice.“Shutthedoor,” she commanded. In my career, that sentence has never proved to have a positiveoutcome.Havingtaughtat-riskstudentsforseveralyears,Iwasn’tsureifIwasgoingtohearabout some tragedy involvingastudent,or somepersonal reprimand;eitherway, Iknew itwasnotgoingtobegoodnews.

She beganwith an unexpected question. “Do you rememberwhen you had some thingsstolen from your classroom a few years ago?” I did remember reporting several itemsmissing from my closet. Important things like Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls, oatmealcookies,moonpies,andFruitRoll-Ups.Ohyes,andthosecaramelswiththewhitecrèmeinthemthattasteslikeChristmas.These“important”thingsinmyclosetservedassanitysnacksformyownchildrenwhenthebusfromtheelementaryandprimaryschooldroppedthemoffatthehighschoolwhereIworked.Mygirlswouldgostraighttothecloset,getasnack,andstart their homework. We had a routine that allowed me to get some work done beforeheadinghomefortheday.

Irememberedonedayleavingmyroomforafewminutesduringmyplanningperiodtorunerrandsaroundcampus, andwhen I camebackallof the freshly stockedgoodiesweregone,boxesandall.Ihadreportedthethefttotheresourceofficer,butIhadneverheardanymoreaboutit.“Yes,”Isaid,confusedandcurious.“Iremember.Why?”

“Well,Iamonlytellingyouthisnowbecausethestudenthasgraduated,andIthoughtyoushouldknowtheimpactyouarehavingonthelivesofyourstudents.”Shetoldmewhohadstolenthoseitems—aboyinmyEnglishclasswhohadlittletonosupportathome,buthadtheheartofachampionandpotentialthatIwantedhimtoseethroughmyeyes.“Well,”shecontinued,“werolledbackthetapestoseewhohadenteredyourroomaroundthetimeframeinquestion,andwesawhim.Wecalledhimtotheoffice,andheadmitteditrightaway.Whenthe schoolofficer askedhim if hehadanythingelsehewanted to say,he said, ‘I haveonerequest.Pleasedon’ttellMs.Maulebecauseshe’stheonlyonewhobelievesinme.’”

Isatthereinherofficewellingupwithtearsatthisstoryofayoungmanwhowasoneofmybiggestfans,showedsuchgreatpotential,andwasthe“Rock”formewhenIwasabsent,helping to keep others on task. He hadme for the first time in three rounds of freshmanEnglish.IrememberthedayIsawhimgraduateandtookmypicturewithhimunderthelightsonthefootballfield.

“Iwantedyoutoknowthetruth,andIhopeyouunderstandwhyIwaitedtotellyouforsolong,”shecontinued.

“Thankyou,Mrs.Kellogg.Thankyou,”Isaid,leavingherofficewiththevalidationIsodesperatelywishedIhadfrommySeniorEnglishteacheryearsbefore.

Yes, I teach to enhance student learning. Ultimately, however, I want my students toexperience empowerment and self-esteem from personal achievement. When my seniors

graduate, I share a quote from Henry David Thoreau: “Most men lead lives of quietdesperation and go to the gravewith the song still in them.” I challenge them toNOT be“most”men. I toast themas theycontinue their journey to find theirheart’s songas Ihavefoundmine.Itellthem,“Nomoneyintheworldcanbuythefeelingofwakingupeverydayanddoinga jobyou love thatusesyour talents inachallengingway.Find it andsing it.” Icouldnotwishamorepreciousgiftforthemthanthis.

~LeanneMaule-Sims2009GeorgiaStateTeacheroftheYear

English,BritishLiteratureteacher,grade12

WordsofWisdom

Putyourfutureingoodhands—yourown.~AuthorUnknown

AsIwalkedintotheelementaryschool,lookingdownatmynewblackMaryJaneshoes,mystomach turned from the biscuit I had just eaten an hour earlier.Mymother heldmy hand(whichwascomfortingbutembarrassingseeingIwasinfifthgrade)aswemadeourwaytoMrs.Blackstone’sclass.Iwasthenewkidintown,enrollinginJanuarywhichmadeitevenworse.Deskshadbeenassigned,rulesestablished,friendshipsmadeandseatsinthecafeteriataken. Iwanted tobeanywhere in theworldbutFountain InnElementarySchool. I stoodatMrs.Blackstone’sdoor.Itwasmadeofsolidwoodwithatinyglasswindowattheverytop.Icouldn’tseein,butmymothercould.

“Oh,Amanda,theylooksonice!It’sabigclassroom.Readytogoin?”Thedecorateddoorwasfullofpicturesofthekidsjustontheotherside.“Wait,”Ipleaded.“Let’slookatthesefirst,”pointingatthesnapshotsstaringbackatme.Mymom,alwaystheoptimist,“She’scute,Ibetshe’dmakeagoodfriend!”Herencouragingwordsfellondeafears.IknewIonlyhadsecondstospareifIwasgoing

tomakearunforit.BeforeIattemptedthegreatescape,thewoodendoorabruptlyopenedtothesingsongvoiceofMrs.Blackstone,mynewfifthgradeteacher.

“We’vebeenwaitingonyou!”shesaidinanunusuallyhighvoice.WithawinkandasmilemymomtiptoedawayandIwasleftstandingcenterstageinfrontofanunimpressedgroupofstudents.

Overthenextfewdays,Mrs.Blackstonemadeithermissiontofindmeanewbestfriend,enrollmeinchoirandgivemetheall-importantdreamjobofhallmonitor.Duringhistorylessons,whenIslumpedintomydeskbecauseIdidn’twanttospeakinfrontoftheclass(evenwhenIknewtheanswer)she’dnotonlycallonmebuthavemestanduptoaddressmypeers.Shelaughedatmyawkwardness,likewhenIwouldn’tgetinlinetosharpenmypencil,evenwhenmyleadwasbroken,forfearofbeingembarrassed.Hersillinessmademesmileandeventuallyfeelmuchmoreateaseinmynewsurroundings.

Onespringafternoon,whenthebellrangat2:30forchildrentomeettheirparentsinthecourtyard,Mrs.Blackstoneaskedmetostayafterclass.

“I’dliketospeakwithyou,Amanda.”Mymindraced.HadImadeabadgrade?HadIunintentionallyhurtsomeone’sfeelings?“Areyouenjoyingyournewschool?”Shesatcomfortablybehindherdesk,surroundedbypicturesofherformerstudents.

“Iwanttotellyousomething,betweenyouandme,nottobesharedwithanyoneelse.”“Okay.”Mythroatallofasuddenfeltverydry.Withhereyebrowsraisedshesaid,“Iseesomethingspecialinyou.Thewayyouinteract

withothers,thekindnessthatyoushow—Ithinkyouhavegreatpotentialtobesomethingveryimportant.”

Ilistenedintently,hangingoneveryword.“I’ve been a teacher for over twenty-five years, I can see it. But you must believe it

yourself. Confidence—Compassion—Common Sense. That’s what is important. Rememberthatandyou’llgofar.”

Shethenhuggedmeandsaid,“Seeyoutomorrow.”Hersingsongvoicewasmusictomyearsthatday.Iwalkedoutofherclass,notstaringat

myMary Jane shoes, but looking straight ahead withmy head held high.My teacher sawsomethingspecialinme!

As an adult now, I recall thosewordsoftenwhen I need themmost. I later learnedMrs.Blackstonehadthatafternoonconversationwithmanyofherstudents.Iwasblessedtohavebeenoneofthem.

Mrs.Blackstonehasgoneontoimpactandeducatemanylawyers,doctors,policeofficers,accountants,mothers,andlikemyself,teachers.

Not longago, in thebusynessof a springafternoon, I satdownwith aquiet, timid, ten-year-old.IlookedintohereyesandrepeatedthosewordsI’llneverforget,“Ithinkyouhavegreat potential. You must believe in yourself. Confidence—Compassion—Common Sense.Rememberthatandyou’llgofar.”

~AmandaDodson

ATeacher’sInfluence

Themediocreteachertells.Thegoodteacherexplains.Thesuperiorteacherdemonstrates.Thegreatteacherinspires.

~WilliamArthurWard

Myexperiences thispastyear asNebraskaStateTeacherof theYearhavepromptedme togivemuchthoughttowhyIbecameateacher.MyparentsweremygreatestsupporterswhenIdecided I wanted to become a teacher as a senior in high school. There were also a fewteacherswhoencouragedmewithoutevenknowingit.IdecidedtolocateMr.Eloe,myjuniorhighIndustrialArtsteacher,tolethimknowwhathisteachingandhisclassmeanttome.

I locatedMr. Eloe in another state and left him a message. One Sunday evening a fewweekslater,IansweredthephoneandimmediatelyrecognizedavoicethatIhadnotheardinoverfortyyears.Mr.Eloebeganwith,“HelloDan,howshouldIknowyou?”IexplainedtohimwhoIwasandtoldhimhehadtaughtme.

Mr.Eloehadinstructedusinformingacompany,guidedusincomingupwithaproduct(TheDollFly),helpedus to learnhowtoadvertise,assistedus inpurchasingoursharesofstock,constructedanassemblyline,andguidedusinsellingourproducts.Mr.Eloetoldmethat he had attended a summer workshop entitled “Innovative Approaches to TeachingIndustrial Arts” and tried it out on us that school year. I still had three of my doll flies;however, they were too valuable to use fishing. I told Mr. Eloe that the doll fly unit wasinstrumentalinleadingmetoathirty-fiveyearteachingcareer.

In reflecting, I can easily remember those students who I know I had an impact onthroughout my teaching career, but now I think of all those students that I maybe had animpact on without realizing it. I only hope that I have been able to instill a passion forindustrial technology education and for learning as was done for me by Mr. Eloe, eventhoughhedidn’trememberme.

One student who I know I helped, and whose name I still remember, was Bob. In thesummerof1976,Itookateachingjobinahighschoolsystemwithanenrollmentofcloseto1,000students.Ihadtaughtjustoneyearpriortothisinahighschoolofapproximately150students.Sobeingalittleanxious,Italkedtosomeoftheveteranteachersinmydepartmentaboutmyclassrosters.TheylookedatmystudentlistsandwhentheyarrivedatBob’snametherewasahugepause.Bobhadgottenintoserioustroubleatthejuniorhighschool.

Throughout the first quarter in our class, I covered the various machines used in a

woodworkingshopbygivinglectures,machinedemonstrations,andsafetyteststodeterminewhowouldbeallowedtousethemachines.Becauseofthemodularscheduleourschoolwasusing, sevendayswouldpassbetweenmy lectureand themachinesafety test.Bob receivedscoresintheteensonthefirstcoupleoftests.AsIwentoverthetestsintheclass,IcouldseeangeranddisappointmentbuildinginBobbecauseofanotherfailinggrade.Hewantedtousethemachinesandknewthesetestswerekeepinghimawayfromwhathehadenrolledintheclasstodo.

IcalledBobinafterclassonedaytotalktohimabouthislowscoresandtoseewhatwecoulddotogethertoimprovehistesting.Ilearnedhehadsomedefinitechipsonhisshoulderbecauseofearlierfailuresinhiseducation.ItriedreviewingwithBobindividuallybeforethenexttest,buthereceivedthesameresults.So,BobandIhadanothertalkaboutgivingmehisbesteffort.IaskedBobwhatIcoulddotohelp.Bobreplied,“Nothing.”Forafreshman,Bobwastallandphysicallydevelopedbeyondhisage,butthatdayIlearnedBobhadtroubleevenreadingacomicbook.

IwasfinallyabletotalkBobintogoingdowntothereadingteacherwithmesothethreeofuscoulddevelopaplantohelphimwithhiswork.Forthenextmachinetest,Bobagreedtogo to the reading teacher ’s room so she could read the test questions and record hisresponses. Bob scored an 85% onmost tests after this and he was able to do this by justlistening,becausehewouldrarelytakenotes.

BobandIdevelopedagoodworkingrelationshipandIseldomsawhisangryside.Bobcompletedtherequiredprojectandfoundapassionforusingthewoodworkinglathe.Onthelathe,hewasabletoturnhiswoodintobowlsandtookprideinmakingthemforhismom,sisters,andaunts.

IstoppedworryingaboutkeepingmyeyeonBobduringlab.Myonlyproblemwastogethimoutofthewoodworkingshopandontohisnextclass.Hepreferredtokeepworkinginthewoodslab.OnedayBobcameintoclasstofindmeupsetbecausesomeonehadlostoneofmylatheparts,whichmadeitinoperable.Boblookedatmeandwithouthesitationsaid,“Mr.McCarthy I knowwhere your partwent. I am not a stool pigeon and Iwon’t tell youwhothrewyourpartoutthewindow,butyourpartisoutthereinthesnowbank.”

Iasked,“Bob,wouldyoumindgoingouttogetitforme?”Hewentrightoutandfoundthepartandreturnedittome.

IknowthatBobhasnotalwayshadaneasylifesincehelefthighschool.Recently,IranintoBobataconveniencestore.IthasnowbeensomethirtyyearssinceBobwasinmyclass.Helookedatmeandsaid,“Youdon’tknowwhoIam,doyou?”

Isaid,“SureIdo.Howareyoudoing,Bob?IthasbeenalongtimesinceIhaveseenyou,sowhathaveyoubeenupto?”ThebiggestsmilecameacrosshisfacewhenherealizedthatIrememberedhim.Wecontinuedcatchingupwithwhateachofushadbeendoing. I learnedmanyof thebowlshehad turnedwerestillbeingcherishedandusedbyhis relatives today.BobwentontoexpresshowamazedhewasthatIwasstillteaching.Itwassogoodtolearnhehadhislifeontrackandhadagoodpositionwithalocalconcretecontractor.

Thanks toBob, I learnedveryearly inmyteachingcareer thatnotall teachersrelate thesame toall studentsandnotall students relate thesame toall teachers.Withoutknowing it,

Bobtaughtmethatitisimportanttoallowstudentstheopportunitytoshowwhethertheycanorcannotbetrusted.WithBob’shelp,Ilearnedtoformmyopinionsaboutmystudentsbasedontheirbehaviorandperformancewithinmyclassroomratherthanbylisteningtoopinionsofothersbasedontheirexperiencesandperceptions.

~DanMcCarthy2009NebraskaStateTeacheroftheYearIndustrialTechnologyteacher,grades9-12

ALifelongFriendship

Amastercantellyouwhatheexpectsofyou.Ateacher…awakensyourownexpectations.

~PatriciaNeal

ImetMrs.Sasemysenioryearinhighschool.Iwasstrugglinggreatlyinhermathclass.Ontopofhavingalwaysstruggledwithmath,Iwasdealingwiththefearsandanxietiesthatcomewithbeingafosteryouthandworryingdeeplyaboutthefuturethatlayinstoreforme.Ihadbeenlivingwithfosterparents,andouragreementwasthataftergraduationIwastomoveoutandbeginmylifeasanadult,atseventeen.

The burden of this anxiety resulted in a lack of motivation in school. Most teachersassumed I had senioritis or just didn’t care.Mrs. Sase, however, took a closer look. Iwillneverforgetthefirsttimeshewalkedovertomydeskandhandedmealittlefoldednote.Itread,“Areyouokay?”

Iwasshockedbyhergenuinecareandinterestinmywellbeing.Notonlywassheintuitiveandsensitiveenoughtonoticemyreserve,shetookthetimetopersonallymakeadifference.ShelistenedasIsharedmymosthiddenfearsaboutmypastandtheuncertainfuturethatwasclosing inonme.She listenedwhenothers seemed tobe toobusy to showconcernor toofearfultotry.SheagreedtowritemyletterofrecommendationwhenIdecidedtoapplyforthe Guardian Scholars program; a comprehensive program committed to supportingambitious,college-boundstudentsexitingthefostercaresystem.Herletterwasmeticulouslythought-outandmeaningful,evenwiththehighdemandofstudentswhowantedhertobetheoneteachertowritetheirlettersofrecommendation.ItissomethingIwillalwaystreasure.

I found new ambition through Mrs. Sase’s support and devotion to my academic andpersonalsuccess.IfIwassickandhadtomissschool,Iwouldstillgotoschoolfortheonehour ofMrs. Sase’smath class.Not only didmy grades dramatically improve, so didmyconfidence.

There issomethingverypowerful in feeling thatyouhavesomeonewho trulycares foryou and deeply believes in you.Mrs. Sase gaveme the support I needed to overcome theobstacles inmylife.Becauseofherpersonal influenceandencouragement, I foundfaith inmyselfandcametobelievethatIcouldachieveacademicandpersonalsuccess.Ibelievethatthemosthealingandimportantthinginamentoring/helpingrelationshipisconsistency.Shehasnotmissedonehardday,onetear,onebirthdayoronecelebration.Sheistrulyabeautifulteacher,friendandmentor.

IoweagreatdealofmysuccesstoMrs.Sase,notonlyfortheprofoundandlastingimpact

shehadonmylife inhighschool,butalsoforhercontinuedsupportaftergraduation.ThemostamazingthingaboutMrs.SaseisthatIamjustoneofanarmyofstudentswhowouldconfess that Mrs. Sase changed their lives as well. Her entire classroom is filled withmemorabiliaandlettersofutmostgratitudeforherandthelife-changingimpactshehashadonsomanystudents.

While getting to knowMrs. Sasemy senior year in high school, I learned that she hadrecentlylostbothherparentstocancer.ShehadmovedhometoIrvinetocareforthemandteachatWoodbridgeHighSchool.WhenIlookbackonthegenerosityandloveshegavesofreelytome,it’soverwhelmingtoknowthatmyfirstdaymeetingherwasalsoherfirstdaybacktoschoolafterthelossoftwoofthegreatestandmostimportantpeopleinherlife.

Ireceivedane-mailmysenioryearincollegefromafriendinformingmeoftheCarlstonFamilyFoundation,afoundationthatrecognizesteachersnominatedbyformerstudentswhocredit theirsuccessinhighschool,collegeandbeyondtoonespecialeducatorwhomadeadifference.Theteacherthatischosenisgiventhetitle“OutstandingTeacheroftheYear”andreceivesa$15,000checkfromtheCarlstonFamilyFoundation.Theschoolwherethisteacherteachesalsoreceivesa$5,000prize.

Iimmediatelyfeltcompelledtowrite.Infact,itwashardtolimitmyselfinallthatIwantedto share. I wanted every reader to truly understand how importantMrs. Sase is. I guess itwasn’thardtosee.Shewaschosenandreceivedtheawardwithaweandhumility.TheawardceremonyisoneofthegreatestmemoriesIhave.IamsothankfulthatIwasabletogivebacktosomeonewhohasshownmethattherearepeopleinthisworldwhoaregenuinelygood,whocareforothersandbelievethateachandeverypersonissmart,strong,andfullycapableofbeingsuccessfulandareworthwhile.

By somemiracle, Iwas inMrs. Sase’smath class. The identifying term “math teacher”robsherofalltheincredibletitlesthiswomanpossesses.Mrs.Saseisanangelwhospreadsherwings so far andwide that allwho find themselves in her path feel forever protected,believedin,andcaredfor.She’ssomuchmorethanateacher.She’safriendandabigsister.TheOrangeCountyRegisterquotedMrs.SaseinaninterviewaftershereceivedtheCarlstonFamilyFoundationawardsaying,“thekidsaremyheartbeat.”Sheismine.

~JaydeRossi

NotSoAccidental

Outofthisnettle,danger,wepluckthisflower,safety.~WilliamShakespeare

Iwassixteenandlifecouldnothavebeenmoredifficult.Mycousinhadadmittedtotheentirefamily one year ago, on Thanksgiving, of course, that she was a lesbian. My strict IrishCatholicfamilyhadafewissueswiththat,andhaddecidedtodisownher.Ratherthanjumpingonthebandwagon,Idecidedthatwhatshedidwithherlifewasherchoice,andthatIwouldnotletthataffectthewayIfeltabouther.Afterall,shewasmycousin.

Now,onewholeyearlater,itwasThanksgivingagain,andafterayearofnotspeakingtomebecause ofmy choice to lovemy cousin unconditionally,my family had invitedme toThanksgivingdinner!

IhadmixedfeelingsaboutwhetherornotIshouldattendthebash.Afterall,ithadbeenawholeyearsince theyhadspoken tome. It seemedalmost toogood tobe true. I remembersittinginscienceclass,whenMs.F,asIwillcallher,wavedabeakerinmyfaceandaskedmewhat planet I had been on for the last fewminutes. I jumped quickly back into reality andattemptedtotakenotesagain,withlittlesuccess.Thanksgivingbreakstartedthenextday.

Afterclass,asIdriftedtowardsthedoor,afigureenteredmypath.ItwasMs.F.Ifearedshewould chastise me for my inattentive state in her class, but she did just the opposite. Shehuggedme.

Asa junior inhighschool, the last thingyouwant froma teacher isahug.Ofcourse, Iresisted.Then,shesaidthemostimportantthingofall:“Iunderstand.I’vebeenthere.”

Iwaswonderingwhatonearthshewastalkingabout.Somehow,though,sheknewaboutallofmyfamily’ssoap-opera-likedrama.Shesatmedownandwetalkedfortheentiretyofher planning period about the angst that I was feeling about going to dinner. I remembertellingherhowafraidIwasofwhatwouldhappen.Then,shesaidtheoddestthing.

“Nomatterwhathappens,don’tdrive.”OfallthestrangethingstosayafterIhadpouredmyheartout,thatwasallshemanagedto

comeupwith?Iwasconfused, tosaytheleast.Shelookedat thepuzzledexpressiononmyfaceandtoldmethatI’dunderstandwhenitcametobetime.

So,withthispuzzlingthoughtinmind,Iembarkedononeofthelongestjourneysofmychildhood, the trip to Thanksgiving dinner. I drove to my grandparents’ house, not eventhinkingtwice.

Dinner,Imustsay,wenthorribly.Afterbowingourheadstosaygrace,myfamilydeclaredthatIwasalesbian.AfterIgotovertheinitialshockofhavingmysexualorientationdeclared

forme (incorrectly at that), I bolted out, car keys in hand. Somehow, though, through thebittercoldandthestreamingtears, I rememberedsomething.Theraspyvoiceofmywackyscienceteacherrangloudandclearinsidemymind:“Don’tdrive.”

Forsomereason,whichIstilldonotknowtothisday,Ichosetolisten.Iranalongway,butIdidnotdrive.Mycold,tiredbodydidn’tappreciateitthatday,butlaterIunderstood.

AfewmonthsafterThanksgiving,Icalledmycousin.Thoughthephonerangandrang,Igotnoanswer.Afterafewdaysofnoanswers,Icalledmybrotherandaskedwhathadgottenintomycousin.

“Youdon’tknow?”hegasped.“Knowwhat?”“Madeline’s…”Hecouldn’tfinish.“She’swhat?”wasallIcouldmanage.Ithoughtshehadrunawayagain.“She’sgone.”Mycousinhadgotten intoanargumentaftershecalledhermother to try toworkthings

outandhadgotten intoacaraccident.Sheandherfriendhadbeencrushedbelowa tractortrailer.Shehadchosentodrive.

Allofasudden,Ms.F’sadvicemadesense.IbegantowonderifIwouldhavemetthesamefatehadIchosentodrive.

InevergotachancetothankMs.Fforheradvice.Bythetimeschoolhadbegunagainthenextyear,shewasgone.However,asIentermyfirstyearofteachinginaclassroomfulloftough,urbankidswithbiggerproblems than I couldeverbegin tounderstand, I rememberMs.F’scaringadvice.I try to incorporateherwisdomandcaringnature intoall thatIdo.IhopethatsomedayIcanpayherbackbypassingthetorchontoanotherconfusedstudent.

~BrookeM.Businsky

TheDunceRow

Goodteachersarecostly,butbadteacherscostmore.~BobTalbert

“Takeoutyourmathhomework,”SisterMarycommandedfromthefrontoftheroom.Therewasarustleofpapersandafumblingofbooksastheclassofsecondgradersrushed

tocomply.ThiswasCatholicschoolintheearly1960s,andwhenyoureceivedanorder,youobeyed.SisterMaryranatightship.Fiftystudentsinaclasscouldbearecipefordisaster.Notinherclass.Studentsfollowedtherulesorelse.

Toaseven-year-old,SisterMarywasanimposingfigure.Inthosedays,nunsstillworethetraditional habit: a longblackpolyester dress belted at thewaist; jet black stockings; blackleathershoesthatremindedmeoftheonesthePilgrimsworeexceptwithoutthebuckles;andarosarythathungfromherbeltandnearlytouchedthefloor.Thebeadsoftherosarywerethe size of dark brown marbles. The cross was made from wood, painted black and wasroughlyaslargeasaman’sfist.Sisterlikedtotwirltherosary.Thecrossmadelargecirclesintheairasshepatrolledupanddownthesevenrowsofneatlyarrangeddesks.

Iwasnervously flipping throughmymathbook searching formyhomeworkwhen thissinkingfeelingofdespairbegantospreadovermelikefloodwatersspillingoverthebanksof a river.My panic started growing. Flip and search… page after page… nomatter howmanytimesIlooked,myhomeworkwasn’tthere.Iwasinshock.Icouldn’tbelieveit.Noone,Imean no one, neglected homework. It justwasn’t tolerated.As the seconds ticked by,mybrainwasracingthroughallkindsofhorriblescenarios.MyhandswereshakingasIglancedaround.Everydeskhadamathpaperonitexceptmine.

Fromthefrontof theroom,SisterMarysurveyedherdomainwith theeyesofaneagle.Herpiercinggaze settledonmypaperlessdesk, and she immediately approached.Myeyestraveled up the length of her long black habit until Imet her cold stare.Her chunky face,encasedinthewhitecardboardofherheadpiece,revealedanexpressionofpureannoyance.

“Whereisyourhomework?”sheaskedsternly.“Iforgotitathome,”Iwhisperedsoftly.Shefingeredherrosary,examiningmeupanddownassheponderedmyfate.“Class, it seems Miss Porzio has forgotten her homework. Who can tell me what the

punishmentisfornothavingyourhomework?”Iknewthenhowprisonersfeltwhiletheywerewaitingforthejudgetosentencethem.No

one raised his or her hand. They didn’t have to. We all knew perfectly well what thepunishmentwas.Iwastobebanishedtotheduncerow.

The dunce row was a line of five empty desks snuggled against the right wall of theclassroom.Thefirstdesk in therowbore thesign that labeled it theduncerow.During thefirstweekof school,wehada lessonon theuses for this row.Wehadbeen instructed thatduncemeant stupid. That rowwas reserved for stupid people. Stupid peoplewho couldn’tfollowtheschoolrules,andstupidpeoplewhoforgottobringintheirhomework.

SisterMarythenspokethewordsweallknewwerecoming,“Pickupyourbooksandgositintheduncerow.”

Slowly, I rose frommyseat. Igatheredupmybelongings,hungmyhead,andwith leadfeet, trudgedover to take the first desk in the row. Iwas sentenced to remain there for theentire week. As I sat down, shame and humiliation swirled around inside me. My eyeswatered,andatearthreatenedtotrickledownmycheek.Somehow,Imanagedtokeepfromcrying.ThelastthingIneededwastobelabeledacrybaby.Beingbrandedaduncewasbadenough.

Thateventhappenednearlyfiftyyearsago,yetthememoryisstillpainfullyvivid.Itservesasaconstantreminderofhowpowerfulthewordsandactionsofateachercanbe.Wordscanhurt;actionscancausehumiliation.Whenmystudentsmoveon,Iwantthemtorememberateacher who established a classroom as a community of learners where interactions werebased on mutual respect, cooperation and dignity. Sister Mary taught me that, because insecondgradeIwasbanishedtotheduncerow.

~DebFogg2009NewHampshireStateTeacheroftheYear

LanguageArtsteacher,grade7

ToughKids

Weexpectteacherstohandleteenagepregnancy,substanceabuse,andthefailingsofthefamily.Thenweexpectthemtoeducateourchildren.

~JohnSculley

Unforgettable

Ifadoctor,lawyer,ordentisthad40peopleinhisofficeatonetime,allofwhomhaddifferentneeds,andsomeofwhomdidn’twanttobethereandwerecausingtrouble,andthedoctor,lawyer,ordentist,withoutassistance,hadtotreatthemallwithprofessionalexcellencefor

ninemonths,thenhemighthavesomeconceptionoftheclassroomteacher’sjob.~DonaldD.Quinn

Inmy second year of teaching eighth grade I had a student namedGabriellewhom Iwillnever forget.Although shewas placed in a lower level class (studentswere tracked at thistime)shehad thepotential toexcel—ifonlyshewouldbehaveforme!Gabriellewas rude,obnoxious,anddisruptive.Shedidn’tdoanyhomeworkandrarelycompletedherclassroomwork.Shewas failing theeighthgrade.Mostof theother teachersonmy teamhadalreadygivenuponherandroutinelysenthertothedean’sofficeratherthandealwithherdisruptivebehavior.ButIwasdeterminedtofindawaytowinherover.

I tried every strategy I had in my bag of tricks. Everything either failed or backfired!Eventually I resorted to keeping her after school. In my detention, I sit and talk with mystudents,hoping tobuildarelationshiprather than tearingonedown.GabrielleandI talkedforoveranhourandshetoldmealittlebitaboutherlife.Shecaredforherthreeyoungersiblingsandhercousinsandlivedwithanaunt.Hermotherhadbeenmurderedwhenshewasonly seven years old. (I would later learn from a guidance counselor that her father hadstabbedhermothertodeathinfrontofherandayoungersister.)Shetoldmeshewaslatetoschool every day because she had to drop off her siblings and cousins at the elementaryschooleverymorning.Shetoldmeshemadethembreakfasteverymorninganddinnereveryeveningwhileherauntworked.Shetoldmeshemadesuretheyhadallshoweredbeforetheywenttobed.

Gabriellewasthecaregiverinherhome;shewas“themom”toheryoungersiblingsandcousins!WhatIcametounderstandwastheonlyplaceshecouldactheragewasatschool—andthatwaswheresheactedoutbecauseitwastheonlyplaceinherlifewhereanyonewouldpayattention toher!Shedidn’tcarewhatkindofattentionshegot—goodorbad—she justwantedsomeonetopayattentiontoher.

AfterourconversationIthoughtIhadfinallymadesomeprogresswithher—thatwecouldmove beyond the rude behavior in class and that she would finally begin to work to herpotential.ButtheverynextdayshewassooutofcontrolinclassthatIhadtosendhertothedean.Iwasdevastated!Ididn’tknowwhattodo…butIwouldn’tgiveuponher.

Our relationship continued thisway for a couplemoreweeks. I kept tryingeverything Icould think of, but still nothing seemed to change her behavior. Then suddenly one dayeverythingchanged.Shebecameoneofmybeststudents—notinanyofherotherclasses,justmine.Shestartedtohelpotherstudentsintheclasswiththeirwork.Shebecametheclassroomleader I knew she was capable of being. She even reprimanded other students who weremisbehaving in my class! Slowly her grades started to climb. What had happened? Did Ifinallygetthroughtoher?

Well,inaway,Ihad—shefoundoutIwaspregnantwithmyfirstchild.Onethingsheknewhowtodowastotakecareofchildren.Shehadbeenraisinghersiblingsandcousinssinceshewassevenyearsold!WhenIaskedherwhathadcausedthechangeinherattitude,shetoldmethatthestressshewascausingwasn’tgoodformyunbornchild.

Thiswastobeourconnection—mypregnancy!Thisbecamethebasisforourrelationship.Gabriellefinished theeighthgradeandwenton tograduatefromhighschool.Shecametoseemeaftergraduationandproudlypresentedmeoneofherhighschoolphotos.Shestartedat a local communitycollege,butneverdid finish.Shewaspregnantwithher first childattwenty. I learned that in teaching not all relationships are what you think they will be—ineducationyou takewhatyoucan,youbuildon it,younurture itandyou try tobe themosteffectiveteacheryoucanbecausethefutureofthatchilddependsuponit.

~BarbaraWalton-Faria2009RhodeIslandStateTeacheroftheYear

Scienceteacher,grade8

ATaleofTwoStudents

Teachersareexpectedtoreachunattainablegoalswithinadequatetools.Themiracleisthatattimestheyaccomplishthisimpossibletask.

~HaimG.Ginott

It was pouring down rain and forty degrees at the DuPont Country Club in Wilmington,Delaware,whereIwascompletingworkonamajorsportscontract.Iwasforty-two,andIhadspent my life building my own successful production company, directing, designing, andwritingfortheatre,commercials,sportingandmusicaleventsintheprofessionalworld.

ButIwasmoreinterestedinconvincingoneofmytempstogethisGEDandputhisprisonlifebehindhimthanIwasincompletingtheviewingareaontheninthholeforLPGAOpen.Somethingwasmissing inmy life. I was often asked to conductworkshops in theatre foryoung people and for teachers at schools around the area. I began to seek out theseopportunitiesona regularbasisbecause I found them tobemoresatisfyingand rewardingthanmynormalcareer.

So,inthemiddleofadrivingrainstorm,whenthecurrenttheatresupervisorforJeffersonCountycalledandaskedmeifIwantedtoteachatShadesValleyHighSchool,Iembracedtheopportunity. With the support of my wife, I took the job and accepted the challenge ofdevelopingatheatreprogramwheretherewasnone.

OnmyfirstdayofteachingatShadesValley,Ihadastudentarrestedinoneofmyclassesonadrugcharge.Inmysecondweek,astudentwasarrestedinanotheroneofmyclassesandchargedwith rapingagirlat school. Iwasseriouslyconsidering reopeningmyproductioncompany.Attheendofmysecondweek,aseniorstudent(Cody)cameintoclasswithajointbehindoneofhisears.Icalledtheofficeandanadministratorcamedown.Inthehallway,theprincipalaskedCodywhatwasbehindhisear.Hereachedupandrealizedwhathehaddoneandthrewthejointontothefloorreplying,“Nothing.”Theprincipalaskedhimwhatthatwason the floor, towhichCodyanswered, “Why,Mr.Galloway, I think that’sa joint. Iwonderwhereitcamefrom.”Mr.Gallowayasked,“JusthowdumbdoyouthinkIam,Cody?”

Codyrespondedbysaying,“Rightnow,Mr.Galloway,Ihopeyou’rereally,reallydumb.”Unfortunately,Codygotinandoutoftroubletherestoftheyear.Itriedtogethiminvolvedinmydevelopingprogramtonoavail.Eventually,hejuststoppedcomingtoschool,andIneverheardfromhimagain.

Duringtheseconddayofauditionsforourschoolplay,IaskedKitty,oneofthestudents

sittingintheclassroom,toreadforapart.Shesaidshewasn’tinterested.Shesaidshewasjusttherewiththepersonwhowasgivingheraridehomefromschool.Infact,shewasgoingtodropoutofschoolthemomentshewasoldenough.I lookedaroundanddidn’tseeenoughpeopletocastmyshow,soIaskedhertoreadagain.“Whatcouldithurt?”Isaid.“Imightnotbeherethatlongmyself.”

She read.Shewasgood, and I cast her in the lead.Twoyears andmany roles later, shegraduatedfromhighschool.Shewent tocollegeona fullscholarship.She isnowmarriedwith a family and just completed her PhD in anthropology from a school inNewMexico.There’snowaytoaccuratelydeterminewhatrolecastingKittyintheplayhadinkeepingherinschool.It’shardtosay,butIknowthatsheisamajorreasonthatIstayedintheclassroomthatfirstyear,andshesaysshewouldhavequitschool if Ihadnotputher in theshowandgottenherinvolvedwithmydepartment.

Myprogramisnowoneofthelargestinthecountry.Wehavetraveledallovertheworldand won countless awards, but I still remember those two students and their stories. Onebecameinvolvedandbecameasuccess.Onevanishedandhasneverbeenheardfromsince.IoftenwonderwhatbecameofCody.Didhegethisacttogether?Didhislifefallfurtherapart?Isheevenstillalive?Ihaveburiedtoomanyofmystudents.

IalsowonderwhatwouldhavehappenedhadItakenthejobeventwoyearsbeforeIdid.WouldIhavemadeachangeinCody’slife?Iknowthereisnoanswertothatquestion,butItrytorememberhimwhenIseeatroubledstudent.IknowwhatakindwordcandowhenIgetthepostcardor e-mail froma studentwho I canbarely remember that says, “Youmaynotrememberme,butIbecameateacherbecauseofyourclass,”or“Youmaynotrememberme,but the things I learned in your program havemademe the person I am today.”What anincredibleandterrifyingresponsibility.

Eventhoughmyprogramisestablishedandattimesoverwhelming,Itrytolookatitasacollectionofindividualyoungpeoplewithhopesanddreams,fearsandweaknesses.BydoingthatIhopethatIamabletotouchthemonanindividuallevelinsuchawaythattheydeveloptheconfidenceandthecouragetheyneedtosurviveinthewordinwhichwelive.BydoingthatIhopetogivethemtheskillsandthestrengththeyneedtodaretosucceed.BydoingthatIhopethattheywillnotbecomeastatisticlikeCodybuttheywillbecomeasuccesslikeKitty.

~RoyHudson2009AlabamaStateTeacheroftheYear

Theatreteacher,grades9-12

Chad’sAward

Hewhoopensaschooldoor,closesaprison.~VictorHugo

Although for a number of years I had considered trying full-time teaching, my first jobactually came out of desperation.Withmy savings account dwindling to an uncomfortablylow level followingseveralmonthsofunemployment, I reluctantlyaccepteda job teachingSpanishatacharterschoolforat-riskhighschoolstudentsindowntownHouston.ThesalarywasabouthalfwhatI’dearnedinmypreviouspositionatalawfirm.Theschoolwasunderthe direction of a woman whose only credential was certification in teaching homeeconomics.Ontheplusside,teachingcertificationwasnotrequiredformyjob,andtherewasnocontract.Iwouldn’thavetoinvesttimeandmoneyincertificationprogramsyet.AndifIhatedthejob,Icouldjustgivesomenoticeandtakeoff.

Characteristics of the charter school included open enrollment, a self-paced curriculum(hardly appropriate for a large population of special education and below-grade levelstudents),adirectorwhochanged thecurriculumdailyandhiredand firedpersonnelat thedropofahat(evenmembersofherownfamilyandlifelongfriends),andstudentsinandoutof jail and/or rehabilitation programs.When the year concluded at the end ofMay, only ahandfulofstudentssittinginmyclasseshadbeentheresincethedoorsopenedinAugust.

Chadwasoneofthem.HestartedoutinmyfirstsemesterSpanishIclass.Hehadtakenthecoursetwicealreadywithoutearningacredit,whichwasnotanuncommonphenomenonattheschool.Hewashyperat times(atourschool, the teachers joked,ADDwascontagious),but fairlybright,andhenevermissedadayofschoolduring the first semester.Withsomeproddingandencouragement,ChadearnedcreditforfirstsemesterSpanishandmovedontothesecond.

InoticedahugechangeinhimwhenhereturnedfromChristmasvacation.Hewasquieterandmorefocused.Hebeganclasseachdaybyretrievinghis folderandworkingdiligentlythroughhisassignments.Heaskedquestionsandparticipated.Iwasimpressedbyhisdramaticimprovement,whichoneteacherattributedtonewmedication.

Towards theendof thespringsemester,Chadmissedseveralweeksof school.Whenhereturned,hewroteinawarm-upthathewassoonbeingshippedoffto“year-roundschoolinanotherstate”andhedidn’tknowifhewouldfinishouttheyear.

ThedayIsubmittedChad’snameforanaward,Idiscoveredthatthe“year-roundschool”wasprison.Iwasshockedtolearnthathehadbrokenintosomeone’shouseandthreatenedtheoccupantwitha“deadlyweapon”(aBBgun).SomeoftheteacherscalledChadapunk.“You

shouldgivetheawardtosomeoneelse,”onesuggested,andIconsideredit.ButintheendIdecidedtojudgeChadonlyonwhathehaddoneinmyclass.“Ifwetaketheirextracurricularactivities into account,wemight aswell call thiswhole awards thing off,” another teacherpointedout.

Itwasthefirstawardsceremonyeveratour“schoolforthecriminalprofessions.”Someteachers said thatwe should be handing out awards like “MostLikely toEndUponDeathRow”or“MostLikely toTestPositive forHIV.”Buteven themostcynicalamongusweremovedbythekids’enthusiasm.Someofthesestreet-toughkidscoveredwithgoldchainsandtattooshadneverreceivedanykindofawardintheirentirelives.Theyswaggereduptotheawardstable,flashedvictorysignswhenteacherspresentedthemwithhandwrittencertificatesinfrontoftheirpeers,andaskedhowtheycouldmakecopiesoftheawardsforrelativesandfriendsorconverttheawardsintoposters.

Chad’ssentencinghadbeendelayed,andhemadeittoschoolthatday.Hehardlyreactedwhen I presentedhimwith an award forMost Improved.But after the ceremony,myquiet,cooperative student ambushed me with a hug. “Thank you,” he said in a voice thick withemotion.“NowIhavesomethingtoshowmymom.”

Chaddidn’tfinishsecondsemesterSpanish,andhenevergotcreditforthecourse.ButI’dlike to think that awardmade a difference. That having something tangible for his effortswouldremindhimthathecouldaccomplishthings,andthathewouldturnhislifearound.Orwas it already too late—his last achievement in the civilizedworld before embarking on acareerincrime?

Eveniftheawarddidn’tmakeadifferenceinhislife,itcertainlydidinmine.IrealizedthatwhileIcouldn’tremainatthatparticularschool,interactingwiththosekids—tryingasitwasat times—wasmuchmoremeaningful thananything Ihadeverdone. IknewIwouldneverreturntothecorporateworld.Iearnedmystandardteachingcertificateayearlaterandhavetaughtfull-timeeversince.

~CherylY.Brundage

GoingtheDistance

Teachingisthegreatestactofoptimism.~ColleenWilcox

Being treatedunfairly isnevereasy. Ioncecalledaparent to informher thatherchildhadused inappropriate language inmyninth-grademathclass.Sheyelledatme,questionedmyintegrityandaccusedmeofpickingonherchild.Ibegantoshakeandtearsstreameddownmyface.Ispokecalmlyinaprofessionalvoiceandendedthecallassoonaspossible.Ineverspoketothatparentagain.Forme,thecallwasonlyaridiculousexampleoftheextremelackof parental support that teachers must sometimes face. As the years went by, my focuschanged: How could I build trust with these parents? How could I reach out to my nextchallengingparent?

Seeingbeneaththesurfaceofaproblemisdifficult,thoughoftenrewarding.Cassidyhadlongblackhairandafacethatusuallystaredblanklyorwasfrozenwithafrownthatsaid:“Iwould rather be any place but here.” Cassidy refused to participate in the class, do herhomework,orevenpretendthatshewastrying.ShewasfailingIntroductiontoAlgebraandmy strategies to engage and motivate her were not working. Hands-on activities withmathematicalmanipulativesdidnotevendentherapathy.Mywordsofencouragementfellondeafears.Includingherinthelessonaswediscussedhowtosolveaproblemgainednothingbut an icy stare.At theendof classoneday, shehandedmea letter filledwithanger, rudewords,andastrongchallengethatnomatterhowhardItried,shewasnevergoingtodoanyworkinmyclass.

IphonedCassidy’smotherandsharedthecontentsoftheletter.Iwasconcernedaboutherresponse in case shewas too angrywithCassidy;weweregoing towork together to helpCassidybesuccessful.IwascorrectinthatCassidy’smotherwasgoingtobeveryangry,butincorrect as to where the anger was going to be directed. “Why are you picking on mydaughter inclass?”sheaccused. Iexplained that Ioftencallonnumerousstudentsduringalesson toensure thateveryoneunderstands. If Ionlycallonacoupleof studentswho raisetheir hands, perhaps only two students understand the lesson while the rest of the classflounders.Randomlycallingon students is oneof severalways inwhich Imonitor studentengagementandhowwell theclass is learning.“Teacherscansaywhatever theywantbut Ithinktheyarejusttryingtohumiliatestudents,”sheretorted.

MystrenuouseffortstoconvinceherthatIwouldnevertrytohumiliateastudentonlymetdisbelief. As the phone call continued, her complaints progressed and delved into strong

criticismsofpublicschoolsingeneral.IfeltlikeIwasunderattackandhadadozenarrowsinmychestandmyback,metaphoricallyspeakingofcourse.Iwasbeingcharacterizedunfairly.Myefforts to teachandhelpCassidywerebeingperceived inways that I foundhorrifying.CassidywasnevergoingtopassIntroductiontoAlgebra.Somehow,Ineededtopullall thearrowsoutofmychestandsetthemasidesowecouldhelpCassidy—thefocusofanygoodinstructor.

I listened to the phone conversation and tried to peel back the layers below the strongwords.Itstartedtomakesense.Cassidy’smotherdidnothaveapositiveexperienceinhighschool.Shefeltstronglythatshehadbeentreatedunfairlyandthatteachersexclusivelylikedcertainrich,smartkidsandignoredtherest.Shefearedthesamethingwashappeningtoherdaughter.

Thefeelingsweresostrong;IsearchedforwordstoconvinceCassidy’smotherthatItrulycared about her child. If thiswere a baseball game, Iwas in the first inning and down byfifteenruns.Abaseballgame,however,isplayedovernineinnings.Thegamewasnotgoingto bewonwith just one swing of the bat. I did not need to repair all the negative feelingsCassidy’smom had toward teachers and public schools in one phone call. I had the entireschoolyeartowinherover.

Iwaitedforalullintheconversationandtookinadeepbreathbeforefinallyspeaking:“ItseemstomethatyoudonothavealotoftrustandconfidenceinpublicschoolsingeneralorinmeasCassidy’smathteacherinparticular.Iamsorryyoufeelthatway.IwantyoutoknowthatIwanttoregainyourtrust.Ifwecanscheduleextratutoringinclassortutoringbeforeorafterschool,Iwilldoit.If itmeansnotcallingonCassidyinclassuntilyouareconvincedthatIamnotpickingonher,wecanstillkeeptrackofhowhardsheisworkingandifsheisdoingherhomework.IwanttoregainyourtrustandseeCassidybesuccessful.”

Cassidy’smotherpaused.“Well,itwouldn’ttakemuch.”Ididnotwinthegame,butbytheend of the phone call I was down by only ten runs. Over time, and with further phoneconversations with Cassidy’s mother and continued encouragement to Cassidy, we clearedawaythewreckageofpreviousnegativeschoolexperiencesandbuiltanewfoundationforatrusting relationship. Cassidy started doing her homework. She passed a test. Finally, wereachedanagreementwhere Icouldcallonher inclassonceaweek.As timewenton, theagreement changed to being able to call on her twice aweek and then three times aweek.Gradually,littlebylittle,thetrustwasrebuilt.

Bytheendoftheschoolyear,IcouldcallonCassidyinclassjustlikeanyotherstudent.CassidypassedIntroductiontoAlgebrabothsemesters.Attheendoftheschoolyear,IknewthatCassidy,hermother,andIhadworkedasateam.Wewonthegameinnotoneinning,butslowlyandsurelyovernineinnings.

Baseball games often have certain pivotal moments that determine the outcome of thegame:amisseddouble-playballthatwouldhaveendedtheinningbutresultedinthreemoreruns,orapivotalstrikeoutwiththebasesloaded.

The pivotal moment for Cassidy, her mother, and me was that first phone call. It wasdifficult to set aside the strongwords and accusations and not take them personally.Had Idemandedthecourtesyandrespect thatIdeservedasCassidy’steacherandendedthephone

callearly,Iwouldhavemissedmypivotalmomenttoturnthegamearound.Cassidyandhermothertaughtmeanimportantlesson.Teachersdonothavetheluxuryof

onlyworkingwithparentswhohaveahighleveloftrustwithteachers.Asteachers,weneedtoacceptthatsomeparentshavehadpreviousnegativeexperienceswithpublicschools,meetthoseparentswherevertheyareat,andpatientlyworktorebuildthattrustovertime.

~BobWilliams2009AlaskaStateTeacheroftheYear

Mathteacher,grades9-12

WhenGraceStepsIn

Forgivenessdoesnotchangethepast,butitdoesenlargethefuture.~PaulBoese

Itwasprobablyhergigglingthatdrewmyattention.Sentencediagrammingreallywasn’tallthatfunnyasfarasIknew.

ItwasearlyMayandIwasfacingaclassofsixteen inner-citykids inSouthCentralLosAngeles. Though I had almost three years of teaching under my belt, this particular sixthgradeclasshadpushedmetothelimitsofmypatiencefartoomanytimes,andIwasmorethanreadytowavegoodbyetothemforthesummer.

Ihadcomea longway from the idealismofmy first yearof teachingand living in theinnercity.That firstyearI’dcoveredup thebullethole in thewindowwithan inspirationalposter. I’d plastered the walls with pictures of places worlds removed from the industrialbuildingsacrossthestreet.ItoldthekidsdailythattheyhadsomethingworthsayingandthatIcouldhelpthemsayit.Togetherwewouldworkhardandmakesomethingoftheirlives.

Theproblem,ofcourse,was thatmy idealskeptcrashingupagainst reality.Not just thespirit-deadeningrealityoftheinnercity—gangpressures,poverty,drug-destroyedfamilies.Iwasalsoupagainst thebasic,universal realityof the twelve-and thirteen-year-oldmind.Amindwiththeswitchtunedinalmostpermanentlytothechannelcalled“Youcan’tmakeme!”

AndnowIwasfacedwithagigglewhenIshouldhavehadonlyraptattention.Walkingovertotheyoungoffender,Iaskedforthenoteshehadinherhands.Frozen,she

refusedtogiveittome.Iwaited,allattentionintheroomonthequietbattlebetweenteacherandstudent.Whenshefinallyhanded itovershemumbled,“Okay,but Ididn’tdrawit,” thefirstcluethatthiswasn’tjustanordinarynotebeingpassed.

After getting the class going on a sentence diagramming competition, I finally had achancetosneakapeek.Itwasahand-drawnpictureofme,dressdetailsdowntoperfection,teethblackened,nostrils flaring, and thewords“I’mstupid”comingoutofmymouth.Theartisthaddoneanamazingjobandtherewasnodoubtaboutwhoitwassupposedtobe.

Imanagedtofoldupthepicturecalmlyandreturntodirectingthecompetition.Mymind,however,wasworkingfuriouslyasIwaveredbetweenwantingtocryandwantingtoreamacertain few students up one side and down the next. I figured I knew the two most likelycandidatesfordrawingthepicture.Itwoulddothemsomegoodtogettakendownanotchortwo,andmaybeitwashightimethatIdidit!

Thankfully,that’swhenGraceintervened.Somehow,inthosemomentsofveryrealhurtandfury,Godwasabletosaveme(andmy

students)frommyself,byaskingmeverysoftly,“Youwanttodoityourway,orMyWay?”I’dhadalmost threeyearsofmostly trying todo itmyway, andmyheadandmyheart

werereallybeginningtohurtfrompoundingagainstsomanylittletwelve-andthirteen-year-oldwallsofresistance.

“Okay,Lord,”Isilentlyprayed,“whatshouldIdo?Howcanyoueverbringgoodoutofthis?”

Withlovingfaithfulness,Godshowedme.WhentherewereaboutsixminutesofclassremainingIhadthekidsstopwhattheywere

doingandgetoutapieceofpaper.Then,suppressingmypride, I showed themthepicture.ThewholeclasswassilentasItoldthemhowhurtfulthiswasforme.Strugglingnottocry,Itoldthemtheremustbeareasonbehindwhysomeonewoulddrawsuchapictureandthatnowwastheirchancetotellmeanythingtheyneededtotellme.ThenIletthemwritesilentlywhileIsniffledinthebackoftheclassroom.

As I looked over the notes later, many of them said something like, “I’ve got nothingagainstyou,”or“I’msorryyourfeelingswerehurt.”Anumberofthemsaid,“Yougiveustoomuchhomework.”Onestudentsaid,“We’reafraidofyou.”Andtwonotes,fromthegirlsIfiguredwerebehindthepicture,hadalistofissues.Iwastoomean,toostrict,andIpickedoncertainpeopletoomuch.

Reading those notes, I realized that over the course of this year of slipshod work andincomplete assignments I had moved from being disappointed to being downright angry.Insteadofencouragingmystudents, Ihadbeguncommanding them toachieve. I’dsethighexpectationswithoutallowingforgrace.WhereIthoughtIwasdrivingthemtosuccessIwasactuallydrivingthemaway.

Ihadsomeapologizingtodo.Whenthekidswalkedintomyclassroomthenextdayoneboyandonegirleachhanded

meacard.Theonesignedbyalltheboysexpressedsincereregretfortheuglyjoke.Theonefromthegirlsaskedforforgiveness.

Iwasdumbfounded.Andmorethanalittlehumbled.Ihadmylittlespeechallreadytogivetothekids,butthey’dbeatenmetothepunch.Godhadnotonlybeenbusysofteningmyheartbutalsotheheartsofmystudents.

Ifonly Ihad letHim leadmoreoftenbefore this. Ifonly thiswas theonly time Iwouldneedtobetaughtthislesson.

Itwasn’t.Andwiththehelpofthisrecalcitrantclass,whoIwouldalsohaveasseventhandeighth graders,Godgavememanymore chances to learn justWhowasbetter at teaching(andloving)inner-citykids.

~AmyMorrison

AngryBlueEyes

Angerisshort-livedmadness.~Horace

At thestartofmyninthyearofhighschoolteaching,Iwalkedintomyfifth-hourclassandfacedangryblueeyes.Thestudentslouchedathisdesk,armsfolded,andglaredatme.

Even a novice teacher wouldn’t have misunderstood this silent challenge. I caught theimplicationsandwonderedwhatconfrontationswereahead.

Sending up a silent prayer, I introduced myself to the class, explained what the coursewouldcoverandthencalledroll.Manyofthestudentspreferredashortenedversionoftheirformal names, such as “Chris” instead of “Christopher.” But when I read the name of thestudentwiththeangryblueeyes,heinsistedIcallhimbyhisfullname:Kenneth.HequicklyaddedthatonlyhisfriendscalledhimKen.Obviously,teachersdidn’tfitthatcategory.

Intheweeksthatfollowed,thetensiongrew.Kennethwouldmeeteventhesimplestrequestwithapenetratingstareandplainstubbornness.HewouldwaituntiltheotherstudentsdidasIaskedbeforecomplying.Andhiscompliancewasalwaysaccompaniedbyasmirk.

Occasionally,hewouldnudgehis textbookonto the floorwhen Iwas trying tomakeanimportant point. The noisewould disrupt the class, and his sarcastic “oops” alwayswoulddrawachucklefromtherestofthestudents.

ItriedallthenormallysuccessfulteachingtechniquesinthehopeofhavingKennethtakeaninterestinsomepartofthecourse.ButIcouldn’tpenetratethewallaroundhim.Talkingprivatelywithhimdidnogood;hemerelyshrugged,andthesamecriticaleyeswouldgreetmeatthenextclass.

Finally, I decided I had to stop worrying about him. But, still, I continued to mentallyreplayeachday’sencounterandwonderwhatwouldtakedowntheemotionalwall.

OneMondayevening,whilethinkingaboutKenneth’ssullenways,Ipouredboilingwaterover tea bags in a pitcher I’d used hundreds of times. But this time, the tempered glassshattered, throwingthescaldingkettlefulontomythighs.EventhoughIreceivedimmediatemedicalattention,theburnedfleshformedpainfulblisters.

ThedoctorsuggestedItaketherestoftheweekofffromwork,butIdidn’twanttosubjecta substitute teacher toKenneth. I assured thedoctor Iwould arrangemy lessonsplans so Icould remain atmy desk. I appreciated his “suit yourself” shrug, butwondered ifKennethwouldchoosethistimetocausemoreproblemssinceIwouldn’tbeabletophysicallyassertanyauthority.

Thewalktomyclassroomthenextmorningwastorturouslyslow,andIdidn’tarriveuntil

allmystudentswereseated.Uponlimpingin,Iwasgreetedwithcriesof“Whathappened?”Ibrieflyexplainedtheaccidenttotheclass.AsIdid,IthoughtIsawaflutterofcompassion

inKenneth’seyes.Idismissedthethoughtandbegantheday’slesson.The hour passed quickly, and I drew a deep breath, relieved the class had gone well. I

dismissed the students and began to gather my books and papers for the walk across thecourtyardtomynextclass.ThenIrealizedKennethwasstandingbymydesk.

“Ithoughtyoumightlikemetocarryyourstuff,”hesaid.“Ihavestudyhall,andMr.Kellywon’tcareifI’mlate.”

SurelyKennethwasteasingme.Butheremainedbymydesk,quietlywaiting.Igratefullyhandedhimmybriefcase.Kennethcarriedmybriefcasefortherestoftheweek.Slowlywebegantotalkaboutthe

weather,hisjobandhisotherclasses.OnFriday,wearrivedatmynextclassearlysinceIwaswalkingbetter.Nooneelsewasin

the room.Kennethplacedmybriefcaseon thedeskandstood,head lowered,withhishandstillonthestrap.Finally,helookedup.

“Whatdegreeareyourburns?”heaskedquietly.“Onlyseconddegree,Kenneth,”Ianswered.“Oh,”hesaid.“Minewerethird.”So my burns were the reason for his change of attitude. “How awful,” I said. “What

happened?”His words tumbled out about themodel airplanes he’d lovedworking onwhen he was

seven,thealmostemptytubeofgluehe’dheldoverthecandleinanattemptthesoftenthelastdrop for the delicate wing, the flash of flames, the long weeks in the hospital and thenumerouscosmeticoperations.

Toemphasizehisfinalpoint,Kennethliftedhischinslightlyandsaid,“See?Theycan’tgetthisspottohealright,evenwiththeskingrafts.Istillhavethisuglyscar.Everybodyisalwayslookingatit!”

“Kenneth,thatisabadscar,”Isaid.“ButInevernoticedituntilnow.”Hestaredatmeintently,wantingtobelieveme.“Really?”“Yes,really.Youreyesarewhatpeoplenoticefirst.”“Really?”His unexpected smile erased the badmoments he’d givenme in the previous

weeks.“Yes.And,Kenneth,youhaveawonderfulsmile.Youshouldshowitmoreoften.”Hissmilewidenedasheturnedtogo.“Kenneth,”Icalled.“Thankyoufortellingmethis.”“That’sokay.”Hepaused.“Youknow,Mrs.A.,youcancallme‘Ken’ifyouwant.”Ismiled.“I’dlikethatverymuch,Ken.”ThefollowingMonday,hegreetedmewithasmile.Andhiseyeswerenolongerangry.

~SandraPicklesimerAldrich

GettingAwayfromSchool

Ifeellikeafugitivefromthelawofaverages.~WilliamH.Mauldin

MyCaliforniatownisatinyburgofaplace.It’smostlyaLatino,worker-breeder-feederforthewealthiercommunitiesnearby.AndtheelementaryschoolIteachiniswell…aswesayinthelexicon,“challenged.”Challengedisapolite,politicallycorrectwayofsayinghosed,andwe can’t talk about specifics. That “challenged” appellation is whymy fellow teacher,Mr.Frost,andIskedaddleASAPduringlunches.

Whentheclock’shandshitlunchtimeweshootoutlikeasniper ’s50-calibershotstraighttotarget.Thereisn’tmuchthatcanslowusdown.Wehavelearnedovertheyearsthatifwestay at school things will find us. Things like problematic parents, crazy kids, saddenedsecretaries,testyteachers,pricklyprincipals,andsaturatedsuperintendents,oracombinationofanyofthemwithanyvarietyofthedescriptorbeforethenoun.Translation:weboogie.Notthatwegofar,justacrossthestreet,behindtheSuperMaxstore.

On one of our getaway days,Mr. Frost drove, as he usually did.He parked in front ofSubwaywhileIraninandorderedoneofmythreefavoritechoices,afoot-long,five-dollar:tuna,meatball,orItaliansandwich.IB.S.’edwiththeformerstudentsworkingthereandMr.Frost stayed in the car andgnawedhalfway throughhis ownhomemade sandwichbefore Irushedback.Hedroveus the few remaining feet toour lunch spot.Thiswehavedone formanyyears,likeclockwork,andweparkunderastandofsky-grabbing,peelingeucalyptustrees.

Thatday,wedug intoour sandwichesandbitchedabout thekids, theirparentsor,morelikely,currentguardians,andalltheinputsofpovertywhichmakeourschool“challenged.”Wealwayssitbeneathourtreesparalleltothehighwayandtrytohaveabriefrespitetodetox,tobreathekid-freefreshair,toindulgeinafewminutesofrelativequietwithoutthepressingimmediateneedsofstudents.

No respite exists even in our shady refuge.Many dayswe have company, other parkedvehicles, containingLatinos on their lunch break. They eye us, assumewe are undercovercops,orwithImmigration,andmostleavewiththeirworriedeyesfocusedintheirrearviewmirrors.Wearerarelyalone.Ahomelessencampmentsupportstheevenmoredesperate.Weusuallyeatandkeepoureyesonthem,andtheyonus,astheywalknearthecar.Rarelydoweacknowledgeeachother.Amutualunspokentreatyofindifferencereigns.

Mr. Frost and I started complaining that day. “Man…ohman!” I said. “Never thought IcouldsayI’dhaveaworseclassthanlastyear.Buttheseguys.JesusH.”

Mr.Frostlaughed,“Hey,Iwarnedyou.Isufferedwiththosekidsalllastyear.Nowthey’reyours.”Mr.Froststoppedchewing.“There’safirst.”Hepointedatthehomelessencampment.“Anglofemaledownthere.She’scomingourway,too.”

“Holy,HolyCow!”IsaidasIrolleddownmywindow.“Whatareyoudoing?”Mr.Frostlookedworried.Theyoungwomansmiledandstoppedtwofeetfromme.“Mr.Karrer?”“Chelsey?ChelseyMorgan?”Shesmiled,thenlookeddownattheencampment,wavedandyelled,“John!Comehere!”“Who’sJohn?”Iasked.“My hubby.” She yelled again, “John! Come here. Bring the cat. It’s my fifth-grade

teacher.”“Chelsey,thisisMr.Frost.”Ipointedathim.“Heteachesfourthgradeatyouroldschool.”

Shebentatthekneestolookinandwavedathim.Mr.Frost’seyesgotbiggerrightinfrontofme.Weweregettingwayoutofhiscomfort

zone.HerhubbyJohnshowedup,cradlingagorgeousblackcatinhisarms.Chelseyexplained,

“OurfriendRobertogotthrowninjail.Nobody’swatchinghiscatsowe’rehereonarescuemission. John came up to the window. Chelsey chuckled. “So what do you think of myhusband?Not toomany teeth,buthe’s still prettygood looking.Lotolder thanme,but I’llkeephim.”

Johnprotested,“Hey,forty-oneisn’tsoold.”Theybothlaughed.“Chelsey,howoldareyounow?”“Twenty-four.”“Wow.ThatmeansIhadyoufourteenyearsago.Hey,doyoustillhaveninebrothersand

sisters?”“Nope.” She flashed the inner side of her right forearm. A blue tattoo with the name

“Sarah”coveredmostofit.“YourememberSarah.Herhusbandkilledheraboutfouryearsago.Onlynineofusnow.”

Ididn’tdarelookatMr.Frost.Wehadjustoozedwayoutofmycomfortzonetoo.“Oh…Mr.Karrer.RememberSunKiminourclass?”

“Suredo.What’sheupto?”“Wewereinthehospitallastyear.SomebodyshotRobertoandSunwastheretryingtoget

drugs.Hechangedsinceyouhadhim.Well,wehavetogofeedthecats.Greattoseeyou,Mr.Karrer.”

“ThanksChelsey,”Isaid.“Nicetomeetyou,John.”Thetwoof themturnedandwalkeddowntheembankment.Ihit theswitchtorollupmy

window.Mr.FrostandIjustlookedateachother.“Youwanttherestofit?”Iasked.“More? There’smore? I can’t processwhat I just heard.How can there bemore?”Mr.

Frostshookhisheadindisbelief.

“Thekidshetalkedabout,SunKim.HisfamilycamefromKoreathatyear.Theschoolputhim in my class because of the basic Korean my wife taught me. His mom and my wifebecamefriends.OneThanksgivingDayhisfamilywenttoBigSurandSunsawhismomanddadgetsweptouttoseabyaroguewave.Hismomdied.Hisdadlosteverythingincludinghismind.Sun’sbeenonhisowneversince.Poorkid.”

Wedroveback to school in silence.Sometimes it ishard toget away fromschool evenunderoureucalyptustrees.

~PaulKarrer

BecominganEducator

Toooftenweunderestimatethepowerofatouch,asmile,akindword,alisteningear,anhonestcompliment,orthesmallestactofcaring,allofwhichhavethepotentialtoturnalife

around.~LeoBuscaglia

“Doyouwanttogotojail?”Thesewordsactuallycameoutofmymouthmythirdyearofteaching.ThesearenottheworstwordsIsaidthatyeartomyyoungfirstgraders,andIamcertainly not proud of saying them. I actually remember my breaking point that year.Surprisingly,itwasnotwhenoneofmyfirstgradeboysgreetedmeonemorningwithaslapontherearendand“Heybaby.”Itwasn’tthedayIgotaphonecallthatnineofmyboyswereintheofficebecausetheydecidedthatwhenItoldthemtomakesuretogotothebathroomoutside at recess, they actually “went outside.” It wasn’t when Jared colored green ineveryone’snoseontheirself-portraits,whenMatthewaskedalittlegirlto“lickhischest”ontheplaygroundorthehundredsofangryandmeanthingsmyeighteenboyssaidthatyear.No,mybreakingpointcametheverylastdayofthesecondquarter.IhadmadeittoWinterBreakandIwasreadytoquit.IwanderedovertomydesktobreatheasighofreliefwhenIsawacrumpledpieceofpaperonmychair.

IrememberthismomentvividlyasIpreparedforwhatunbelievablethingImightreadthistime. I sat there feeling overwhelmed with shame when I read the words on the flowerystationery:

DearMirBaid,

Youarecool.Ilikeyousomush.

Love,Jared.

I read thenoteover andover and thought abouthow ironic itwas that Jared stillwantedarelationship with me. Ironic because I was once a little girl who was desperate forrelationshipsandwantednothingmorethanateachertobelieveinme,andyetasateacherIwasnotworkingtobuildpositiverelationshipswithmystudents.Howcoulditbethatafterallof the lectures and yelling, this little boy still wanted a relationship with me? Then this

momentcamewhereIrealized,if theyallseemsonaughty,coulditbe…itwasmyfault?Iwastheproblem?

Myidentityasa teacherchanged in thatmomentandIhaveneverbeen thesame teachersince. I confronted my teaching and I tried my best to use the rest of the year to buildcommunityandfindroutinesandproceduresthatmademykidsfeelsuccessful.I’dliketosayitwaseasyandtheyearendedperfectly.Onthecontrary,itwasthehardestyearofmycareerandeverydaywasachallenge.Thoughwemadesomeprogressasaclass,IhonestlycannotsaythatthelittleboywholeftmethatsimplelittlenotebelievesthatIcaredforhimthatyear.

IhadanopportunitytopracticemynewfoundpassionforrelationshipstheverynextyearwithPayson.Paysonwasalovinglittleboywhojustdidn’tquitefit.Hewouldsay,“Ms.Baird,I’msoinlovingwithyou.”However,hedidnotcompleteasingleassignmentthatyear.Hetook apart anything and everything that he could inmy classroom and he constantlymadenoises.But,whatPaysonwantedmorethananythingintheworldwererelationships.Hehadthisterriblysadlookwheneveritwastimetogooutforrecess.“Noonewillplaywithme,”he’d saywith his head hanging. So every day, IwalkedPayson outside andwe looked forsomeonetoplaywithandwepracticedasking,“CanIplaywithyou?”Hetestedmypatienceeveryday,andeverydayIremindedmyselfthatIwouldnevermakeanotherchildwonderifIcaredforhimasahumanbeing.

Paysonstruggledallyeartomakefriends.Hedidgetinvitedtohisfirstbirthdayparty,butheneverreallyfoundabestfriend.Afterthatyearended,Imovedtoteachatanewschool.IheardovertheyearsthatPaysonstillstruggled,bothintheclassroomandwithpeers.Ialwaysworriedabouthimandhopedthathisteacherswouldseethelovinglittleboyoveranythingelse.

TheyearIwasnamedArizonaTeacheroftheYear,Ihadthisamazingopportunitytorideon topof theWellsFargowagon inArizona’sFiestaBowlParade. Itwas an indescribableexperience,hearingcompletestrangerscheeringandclappingandyelling,“Sarah,wearesoproudofyou!”and“Weloveteachers!”Itisafeelingofappreciationeveryteachershouldgettoexperience.Amidstthecheers,Iheardalittlevoiceyelling,“Ms.Baird!Ms.Baird!”

And there was Payson. Bigger, older, but still Payson. Standing in front of the crowdwavingandscreaming.Iwassoexcitedtoseehim!Iquicklyraisedmycameraandtookhispicturefrommyparadeposition.AsIrolledby,Iheardhimscream,“Iknewyoulovedme!”thenheturnedtothecrowdandproudlyyelled,“Shetookmypicture,people!”

Idon’tknowifIwillevergetthatsamechancewithJared,butheisachildIwillforeverholdinmyheartandIwillbeforevergratefultothelittleboywhohelpedmefindmyidentityasaneducator.

~SarahBaird2009ArizonaStateTeacheroftheYear

Mathteacher,gradesK-5

Reconnecting

Weonlyparttomeetagain.

~JohnGay

TheWhiteCar

Toconquerfearisthebeginningofwisdom.~BertrandRussell

Theworstthingthatcanhappentoanydriveristorunoverachild.ThatthoughtcrossedmymindwhenIbrakedatastopsignandsawtwoboysonbikesweavingcirclesonasideroad.Myhousewasfifthfromthecorner.Iturnedandacceleratedslowlytotwentymilesanhour.Suddenly,theyoungerofthetworidersangledinmydirection.Hisbikemovedalongsidemywindow,theboystrugglingtocontrolit.

Islammedmyfootonthebrake.Thetiresscreeched.Twothinwheels,achildandapairofhandlebarsdisappearedundermybumper.Ilookedintotherearviewmirror,bracingmyselftoseeacrumpledbodyandamangledbike.Nothingwasintheroad.“DearGod,”Ithought,“he’sstillunderthecar.”Andmysecondthoughthitmelikeadeathsentence:“I’vekilledachild.”

Openingthedoor,Istumbledintothestreetinfrontofthehousewheretheboywasheaded.Awomanflewoutthedoorandstartedscreaming.Herhusbandstoppedhisworkintheopengarage and headed toward my car. I ran to the mother, crying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Icouldn’tevenlookinthedirectionofmysmallwhitecar.Ithadbecomeamurderweapon.

Suddenly, a neighbor approached, holding the hand of a dazed but calm child. She hadlookedunder thecaranddiscoveredhimclinging to theundersideof thebumper.Hisonlydamage:slightroadburnsonhisback.Hisdadfollowedbehind,carryingatwistedbike.Themotherbentdowntoexamineherson,anguishmeltingfromherfaceasshehuggedhisthinbody.

Theboy,adark-hairedchildwithlargebrowneyesandfrecklesonhischeeksandnose,squirmedoutofhismother ’sarmsandscurriedovertohisdad.“I’mokay,”heinsistedwithamachoattitude.

Twomonthslater,thefamilymovedawayfromourneighborhood.Ihadmeanttoreplacetheboy’sbicycle,butmybusyworkroutinemademeforgetthepromise.Nooneknewwheretheyhadgone.SincetheirpresencehadbeenareminderofhowcloseIhadcometotakingthelifeofanotherperson,Ifeltrelief,butregrettedthatIhadnevermadegoodonthebike.Sevenyearswentby.ThensomethingsounexpectedhappenedthatIcanonlyexplainitasasecondchancetomakerestitution.

ItaughtEnglishatthelocalhighschoolandoftenassignedmyeleventh-graderstowriteanautobiographical incident that taught them something about life. For a question that alwaystriggered ideas, I would ask, “Howmany of you have ever been in a car accident?” This

particularyear,alankyyoungmanwithcurlyblackhairandpaleskincheerfullyvolunteered,“Ihadone,Mrs.LaMay.Remember?Youhitme.”

Isearchedmymindfora timewhenIhadhitanycar, letaloneonedrivenbyastudent.Givingup,IfrownedatOrlando.“Ineverhadacaraccident.”

“Yes,youdid,”heinsisted.“Iwasnineyearsold.Youranovermewithyourwhitecar.”Theclasswentsilent.Bloodrushedtomyface.Ididremember!Itcamebacktomethatthe

boyIhitthatdayhadanunusualname—Orlando.Hehadblackhairandthesamesmatteringof freckles on his cheeks and nose as this handsome sixteen-year-oldwho now innocentlybroughtbackmypast.

Recoveringquickly,Ijokeddramatically,“Mypasthascomebacktohauntme.”“I’mstillafraidofwhitecars,”Orlandoventuredwithawrygrin.Ofcoursemyclasswanted toknowthedetails.Together,mystudentandI reconstructed

thecrimescene,includingthefactthataninvestigatingpolicemanabsolvedmeofblame.Astheyearprogressed,thestoryforgedaconnectionbetweenthetwoofusandbecamealightformofbanter.Still,OrlandodidremindmewithalaughthatIneverboughthimanewbike.IcouldonlyapologizeformyoversightandhopethatIcouldmakeitupbyhelpinghimwithhisstudies.

OrlandowasastrugglingESOLstudentusuallyearningaborderline“B.”Butsecondtermmeant researchpapers.He tried,but itwas toobigaproject forhim tograsp.His averageveeredtoadangerouslylow“D.”Towardtheendoftheterm,hecameuptomewhiletherestoftheclasswasengagedingroupwork.“AmIgoingtofail?”heasked,withanoteofdreadinhisvoice.

Withoutasecond’shesitation,Ianswered,“Orlando,thereisnowayonearththatyouwillfailmyclass.”

Withasheepishgrin,heheadedbacktohisseat.Ilookedgratefullyathishealthyheadofhair, his bright eyes, his dancing freckles.Hewas back atwork, confidently adding to hisgroup’s discussion, panic andworry gone from his eyes. I couldn’t give him a bike and Icouldn’ttakeawayhisfearofwhitecars,butIcouldgivehimalittleboosttogetthroughtheyearsahead.

~SharilynnTownsendLaMay

ALessoninFriendship

Ateacherisonewhomakeshimselfprogressivelyunnecessary.~ThomasCarruthers

ItisdifficulttobelievethatIwon’tbegettingacardfromMrs.HansonatChristmasthisyear—or any more birthday cards filled with glitter hearts or multicolored, balloon-shapedconfetti.Foralmost twentyyears I lookedforward to receivingagreetingorahandwrittenletterfrommyfourthgradeteacher,andIreallythoughtshemightcometomyweddingeventhoughwehadn’t seeneachother in sixteenyears, sincemy familymoved fromHorsham,Pennsylvaniatoaruraltownalmostfivehoursaway.

•••

When homeroom assignments came out in the summer of 1989, I was petrified andimmediatelywantedmyroomchanged.AsathirdgraderpassingMrs.Hanson’sclassroomatRound Meadow Elementary School, I’d occasionally heard her voice coming from herclassroom doorwaywhen she raised it above the noise of her students instructing them to“payattention.”Iknewsheprobablyyelled,andIwassurethatfourthgradewasdestinedtobeayearIwouldneverforget.Iwasright.

Idreaded the startof school. Ihadnewglasses that Ihated.Bigand roundandpinkandblue,theytookupmostofmyfaceandmagnifiedmycheekbones.Nearlyallofmyfriendshad gotten braces over the summer.My teethwere still crooked.While some of the othermore popular girls in my class were starting to experiment with purple eye shadow andmascara,Iwentwithoutany.JustplainJulieMellott.Nopiercedears.Mousybrown,unstyledhair.Andgiantglasses.

Mrs.Hansonwasasixty-year-old,slenderwomanwithherhairdyedalightreddishbrownandstyledonthetopofherhead.Eventually,I learnedthatMrs.Hansondidn’tyell,butshekeptorderinherclassroomandencouragedrespect.Whilesomeofmyclassmatescalledher“hard,” I really liked the challenge that having her for a teacher presented. And she wasalways nice to me. She showed compassion toward me when others teased me on theplayground andwhen I learnedmygrandmotherwasvery sick.She evennominatedme tospeak in front of the senior class about the dangers of drinking and driving. I lovedMrs.HansonandIlovedfourthgrade.

IstillstoppedintovisitMrs.Hansonaftermovingonthroughschool,andshebecamemypenpalathersuggestion.SinceIwasmovingawayandshewasretiring,Mrs.Hansonthought

itwouldbenice ifwekept in touchwitheachother.Over theyearsIcontinued tosendherlettersandpictures—sharingmysuccessstoriesandmyfirsts.Shewould tellmeabouthertravelsandvisitswithfamily.Ialwayslookedforwardtoa lengthylettereachsummer.Shealwayscalledmeher“specialgirl.”

After graduating from college and living on my own for a few years, I took a job inBoston and lost touchwithMrs.Hanson for a fewmonths. Settling in to a new job, a newapartmentandanewlifestyletookupmostofmytime.ThefirstopportunityIhadtoreachouttoMrs.Hansonwasovertheholidays.

Dayslater,Ireceivedacardinreturn:

…Wishingyoupeace,andwishingyoulove.MerryChristmas!

Withmuchlove,

Mrs.Hanson

Weneverlosttouchagain.Recently, I received a voicemail from Greg Hanson. Although we had never spoken

before,Isensedthatheknewmealready.“I’mJaniceHanson’sson.Momisinahospice,”heexplained.“She’saskedmetocontactyou—shewouldlikeyoutocall.We’vebeenhearingallaboutyou foryears.”Tears filledmyeyesbecause I knewahospice couldonlymeanonething,andIhad topreparemyselfmentallyandemotionally tocontactmyteacherforwhatmightbethelasttime.“She’shavingagoodday,andyouareonhertop-tenlist,ifyouwanttocallitthat.We’rekeepinghercomfortableandyouareoneofthepeopleshewantstoknowthatsheishere.”

Ihadn’ttalkedtoMrs.Hansoninnearlyayear.Thelasttimewehadspoken,Icalledtotellheraboutmyengagement.Icouldn’twaittosharemyexcitementwithmyoldestfriend.Thenews of her suffering from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) was rathersurprising,becauseinallofourconversations,allofourletters,Mrs.Hansonhadneverletonthatshewasn’tfeelingwell.Afterseveralhoursof tryingtocollectmyemotionsandtotalkwithoutcrying,Ipickedupthephoneanddialedherhospice.

IwillneverforgetthesevenminutesthatIspentonthephonewithMrs.Hanson.Itwassoeasynot to crybecause it seemed likenothinghad ever changed.Although shewas a littlemoredifficulttounderstandandIcouldhearthesoundofheroxygeninthebackground,hervoicewasthesame,herlaughwasthesame,andhermemorywassoclear.“Sohowwasyoursecondwinter inBoston? Ibetyougota lotof snow.Doyou likeyour job?Whatareyoudoingnow?I’vealwaysbeensoproudofyou.Thankyouforsendingtheivyplant.It’sanicegifttoremindmeofaspecialgirl.”

Icouldtell that itwasgettingmoredifficultforher to talk,andshewrappedupthecall,“Well, I’ll letyougo.But if someonewouldevergetmesomepaperaroundhere, Iwould

writeyoualetter.MaybeI’llcallyousometime.”Mymind was spinning because I knew our conversation was ending. How could I say

goodbyetoan importantpartofmylifefor twentyyears—formorethanhalfmylifetime?“Youareaveryspecialpartofmylife,”Istarted.“I’msohappythatwe’vekeptintouchovertheyears.Iloveyou.”

“Iloveyou,too,”shesaid.Mrs.Hansonpassedawayinhersleeptwoweekslater.I wish I could say that I remember the first day of school or the first lesson thatMrs.

Hansontaughttome,butIcan’t.WhatmadeMrs.HansonaspecialteachertomewasnotwhatI learnedinherclassroom.It’snot thebooksthatshereadtousor thefacts thatshetaught.Mrs.Hansoninspiredmeinsomanyways.Ilearnedtobekinderandmorecompassionate.Iaspired tomake adifference in the livesof others.Butmore than anything she couldhaveinstructed froma text book,Mrs.Hanson taughtme a lesson in friendship. I learned it canspangenerationgaps,twentyyearsand300miles.Ilearnedfriendshiplivesforever.

~JulieMellottGeorge

AChanceEncounter

Ateacherisacompassthatactivatesthemagnetsofcuriosity,knowledge,andwisdominthepupils.

~EverGarrison

Afterthirtyyearsintheclassroom,Ihavecometorealizethatthetiniestofgesturescanmakeaworldofdifferenceforachild.Thisisonesuchstory.

I received an invitation to attend the mayor ’s summit on education being held at thealternative high school.The studentswhowere enrolled in the chef’s preparation programhadpreparedthemeal.

AsIlookedoveratthebuffetline,Inoticedayounggirlwholookedfamiliar.Iknewshehadbeenastudentofmine.Irackedmybraintryingtorememberhername.Myinabilitytodosofrustratedme,asIhavealwaysbeenabletorecallformerstudents.

Hereyesmetmineandshe threwherarmsaroundmeandsaid,“Mrs.G. it’sme,Sarah,andI’mstillwriting!”Thememoriescamefloodingback.Yousee,Sarahwasneverastudentinmy classroom. Sarah’smother had abandoned her, and her biological fatherwas absentfromher life.Shewas sent to livewith fosterparents theyear Imether.Sarahwas angry,oftenintroubleandoftenintheoffice.

It was during one of those office visits that I first encountered her. She was furiouslywritinginanotebook.Iintroducedmyselftoherandaskedherwhatshewaswriting.Sarahsharedherstorywithme.Herwritingspoketome.ItfilledmyheartandIknowitwashealingforhertoputherthoughtsonpaper.Everymorningbeforeschoolshewouldcomeintomyclassroomandwewouldworkonherwritingskills.

UponmeetingSarahatthealternativehighschool,tenyearslater,Iknewherjourneyhadnot been easy. Our conversation that eveningwas filledwith hope and optimism. Shewasturningherlifearoundandlookingforwardtogoingtothecommunitycollegetomajorinjournalism.

Drivinghome,Icouldnothelpbutrealizethetremendousimpactforbothgoodandbadthatteachershaveupontheirstudents.Takingthetimetoconnectwithachildhasthepowertotrulychangethatchild’slife.That’swhyIteach.

~SharonGallagher-Fishbaugh2009UtahStateTeacheroftheYear

Elementaryteacher,grade2

GarageSaleRevelation

Manythingsgrowinthegardenthatwereneversownthere.~ThomasFuller

Garage sales are a peculiar pastime. I am not one of those peoplewho enjoy rummagingthroughotherpeople’sunwanteditems.Mymotherwas,andsheconvincedmetoaccompanyheronecoolanddrearymorning.IjumpedatachancetohandoffmynewbabytoGrandpaandspendsomeadulttimewithmymother.

Wewenttoseveralgaragesalesandfinallystoppedatapleasantcottageinthewoods.Theelderlyownertoldmethatheandhiswifeweremovingintoaretirementcomplex.Hiswifehadbeenateacherbeforeshehadastrokeandretired.Shemissedteachingwithallherheart.

Aswewereperusingthesaleitems,Iheardthegentleman’ssmall,frailwifesayhernameto someone,and I immediately realizedwhoshewas.She lookedatmeandsaid, “YouareLisaMiller.”Istaredatherinawe,forithadbeennearlythirtyyearssinceIhadbeeninherclass.

MymotherimmediatelyapologizedtoherforanytroubleImighthavecaused.Shedidthatroutinely now after learning that my brothers and I were not the sweet little angels shethought.She assumed that if thiswoman rememberedme after somanyyears, Imust havereallydonesomethinghorrible.Myteacherlookedatmymotherandsoftlysaid,“Ohno,shewasverygood,”andmymotherstaredatherindisbelief.

Myteacherexplained thatduring the lastweekofschool, Ibroughtheraplant frommymother ’sgarden.ItwasaLamb’sEar,asmallplantwithleavesthatlookandfeellikealamb’sear.ShesaiditcametoherrootsandallandwasprobablypulledoutthatmorningasIranoutthedoor.(Mymomknewthatitwasprobablyapeacetoken,andIhadinfactdonesomethingthat needed some sort of atonement.) She took us to a patch of plants and told us that sheplanted theLamb’sEar in her garden, and over the years it spread.As I looked down herdriveway,IwastakenabackatthesiteofLamb’sEarsliningbothsidesofit.Shelookedatmeandsaid,“EverydaywhenI leavemyhouseanddriveupthedriveway,I thinkofyou.Andwhen I comehome theseplantsgreetme, and I thinkofyou.”Tearswelledup inmyeyes.Thereatherhome,amongallherbelongings,wasapieceofmylifethatshehadnurtured.

In thatmoment, she taughtmemore about life than I could imagine.We give pieces ofourselves every daywithout thought or expectation.We rarely envision the effects thatwehaveonothers’lives.Thatpiecemaygrowandspread,becominganintegralpartofalife.Intheenditisnotthebigthingsthatmatter,butthesmallthingsthatmakeallthedifferenceintheworld.ThisisthelessonthatItakewithmetomyclassroomeveryday,andthelessonthat

gotmethroughlymphomaandchemotherapy. Ineverhadachance to thankher,but IhopeshetookaLamb’sEarwithhertohernewhome.

Garagesalesareapeculiarpastime—youjustneverknowwhatyouwillfind.Ifoundmycalling.

~LisaMillerRychel

TheTreasureChest

Teacherappreciationmakestheworldofeducationgoaround.~HelenPeters

Working one late afternoon on a lesson planwewere to teach the next day,my teachingpartner and Iwere startledby the suddenappearance in thedoorwayof a tall, lankyyoungmaninanintimidatingdarktrenchcoat.Hisred,spikeMohawkcaughtourattentionaswellashis heavy-metalT-shirt.Then, he flashed that remarkable grin that told us it could only beJacob.Hehadgrownabitsincewelastsawhimandhisdemeanorwascertainlydifferent,butunder that “tough guy” exterior,we both recognized the lost, insecure first graderwe hadtaught and lovedmany years ago. Some children do not have the privilege of a nurturingfamilywhereunconditional lovehelps themsurvive thebumpsofeveryday life. Jacobwasoneofthesechildren.

In thefirstgrade,Jacobrequiredconstant reassuranceandredirectionfromhis teachers.He oftenwas unable or unwilling to participate or cooperate in our classroom.As a firstgrade team,we shared the responsibility for not only Jacob’s education, but his social andemotional needs as well. He quickly became one of our favorites. The extra attentionmanifesteditselfinamoreconfidentstudentwhobegantowillinglyengageintheprocessoflearning.

Even after Jacob left first grade, hewould returnyear after year,willing to giveuphisrecesstimetovolunteerinourclassrooms.Hesimplyneededthatunconditionalacceptance.FamilycircumstanceseventuallytookJacobtoanotherstate,andwithheavyheartswethoughtwewouldneverseehimagain.WewereworriedhowlifewouldtreatJacob.So,wefeltgreatreliefandjoytoseehimstandinginthedoorway.

Jacob’s eyes darted aroundmy classroom.What was he looking for? Suddenly, with alaugh,heasked,“Doyoustillhavethattreasurechestforyourstudents?”Ireachedundermydesktopullouttheoldtreasurechest.Jacobbegandiggingforhisfavoritecandy.WeallsatdownforconversationoverpeanutbuttercupsandSmarties.Jacobmusthaveeatentenbeforehe was finished. On the way out he gave us both a squeeze and a look of gratitude. Hisstomachaswellashisemotional“bucket”werefilled.

Aclassroomismorethanfourwallsfilledwithtextbooks.Itshouldbeasafehavenfilledwithunconditionallove.ItneedstobeaplacewherechildrenlikeJacobcanreturnyearafteryearforarefillofloveandattention.Don’tweallneedatriptothetreasurechestonceinawhile?

~RobinSlywithteachingpartnerSherryDismuke2009IdahoStateTeacheroftheYear

Elementaryteacher,grade1

SimplePleasures

Timeyouenjoywasting,wasnotwasted.~JohnLennon

I taught high school for years in St. Louis County and had the joy of knowing manywonderfulkids.Ofall thestudentsI taught,afewstillstandout inmymindlikegifts,eachonechangingandaddingtomylife.

Onestudent,ScottWood,wasespeciallyclosetomyheartandstillistothisday.OneofthesubjectsItaughtwasCreativeWriting,atopicthatlentitselftogettingtoknowmystudentspersonally through theirwritings. Scott came as a junior, a new student in the area and atLafayetteHighSchool.Hewrotebrilliantly. Imean, there itwas, that ingredientonecannot“teach” into someone.Hewas able to express through hiswrittenword howmuch hewasstrugglinganditenabledmetolighthiswayalittle.

Scottandotherstudentswereofteninmyhome,atmykitchentable,sharingsupper.ItwasamazingtomethatwhatIsaidtothemaboutlifeandlove,andmakingtimefortheimportantthingsactuallysunkin.IwatchedthemputtheselessonsintopracticeasIfollowedtheirlivesaftergraduation.Scott,especially,didthis,andstilldoesthistoday.

Iknowthisbecausewestayveryconnectedviae-mail,letters,evenvisits.Thethingis,hehasdone just asmuch forme. Igetdiscouragedsometimesbecauseof illhealth,pain, andfamily tragedy, and sometimes I tell him this. Recently I told him I felt particularly down.Hereiswhathee-mailedbacktome:

Irememberyoucomingintoclassonedaylate.Youwererushingtogettheclassstartedbutyouhadagreatbiggrinonyourface,likethecatwhohadeatenthecanary.Anyway,youproceededtotellallofusintheclassthatyouwerelatebecauseofaveryspecialreason. It had snowed the night before but instead of scraping the ice off of yourwindows in the car, you let the car heater take care of it and you sat andwatched inwonderas thewaterslowlystartedflowingdownyourwindow.I thinkabout thisa lotwhen the weather begins getting cold, how most of us miss the simple treasure—icemelting.Just likeasunrise, Isuppose.Everydayisablessing,right?Is thatnotwhatyoualwaystoldus?Thatishowyoulivedandthatishowyoutoldustolive.

Icemelting.Idonotrecall this incidentbut, thinkingback, it ringsvery true.That iswhatIbelieved,thatiswhatItaught.Afterreadinghisreply,Ijustsatbackinmychairand,inmyheartandmind,Ireturnedtothosedays.WhendidIlosemyice-meltingself?HadIlostit?

ThemoreIsatandthoughtandtraveledback,themoreIrealizedIhadn’treallylostmyice-meltingself,justsortofpusheditasidetoooften.IrememberedthedayonthebeachrightatsunsetwhenmyhusbandGeneandImarried.Theskywaspinkandtheairsaltyandtherewassuchlovetherethatdaythateventworaccoonsandthreejoggersstoppedtofeelit.Geneactually stopped theceremony toaskeveryonewithus tobeawareof theperfectionof themoment.It,too,wasanice-meltingmoment.

Youknow,justtomakeitclear,an“ice-meltingmoment”tomeisthatmomentyoustoptimefor—youstopeverythingfor—becauseitistooprecioustomiss.Scott,mystudentlongago, made me remember to never be too busy to stop the world, stop the clock for themagicalmomentsinourdailylives.

~JeanBrody

StooptoConquer

Educationistheabilitytolistentoalmostanythingwithoutlosingyourtemperoryourself-confidence.~RobertFrost

Before I present the subject of this story, it is important that I set the tone and share theculturalmilieu inwhich it is set. TheVirgin Islandswere colonized under seven differentnations—(The Netherlands, Denmark, Britain, France, Spain, Malta and the U.S.) from aperiodbeginninginthe1600suntiltheywerepurchasedbytheU.S.fromtheDanishin1917.The natives are amix of African stock brought to the Islands during the slave trade. TheAfricanDiasporas isprevalenthere in theVirginIslandsand the languageswere lostmanyyearsagoinfluencedgreatlybythecolonialpowersoccupyingtheislandsatanygiventime.Todayon thenow fourVirgin Islands (StCroix,St John,StThomasandWater Island)wealsohavenativesofFrench,PuertoRican,Danish,andsomeGermanancestry.

The Virgin Islands dialect is filled with colloquial sayings from Dutch, French, andEnglishCreoleoriginswithwhatsomemaycallanaccent,brokenEnglishoraWestIndiantwang.TherearetwogreatbookswrittenbyVirginIslanders:onetitledWhataPistarcklebyLitoVals,sortofaCreoledictionary,andtheotherHerbsandProverbsbyAronaPetersen,bothoutofprint.Arona’sbookhasalotofusefulinformationonlocalherbsandtheirusesaswell as it is filled with sayings/proverbs. For example: “Do for do is no Obeah” (Justretribution is to be expected), “Tongue and teeth does fall out” (Good friends quarrel),“Monkeyalwaysknowwhattreetoclimb”(neverasandboxtree)plusmanymore,including,“Stooptoconquerbutnevertoolow.”

Myassignmenttomystudentswastousethesetwovolumesassourcematerialtoselectasaying—a proverb that resonates with them and then graphically illustrate it as best theycould.Theintentionwastogivemystudentsanartassignmentthatfocusedontheirculture,whileatthesametimethechallengewasthattheyhadtothinkcreativelyandproblem-solveallwithinatimeframeasiftheartworkwastogotopress.

Wellingtondidnotdisplayanyparticularimpressiveartskillsandaptitudeswhileastudentofmineinthemid-1980s.Hewasraisedina low-incomedistrictonthenarrowbackstreetswith long row wooden houses and swept dirt yards, architectural elements left from theDanish Colonial days—an area not seen by the many tourists who visit the Island of StThomas.

Despiteaslightstutterspeechimpediment,Wellingtonwasnotarudeordeviantteenager

angryattheworldforthecardsdealt tohim.Hewoulddohisassignmentswiththenormalhesitancy of most beginning or foundational art students fearful tomakemistakes on thatcleanwhitesheetofdrawingpaper.Hestruggledtocomeupwithanideaasthesubmissiondeadlinewasfastapproaching.

Wellingtonmanaged to earn a passing grade—a low “B” for his semester final projectwork,whichforthatmatterwasatypicalgradeforanon-artmajor.Thechildlikeimagehedrewwasthatofaslaveworkerkneelingatthefootoftheslavemastersteppingonabook.Theironyoftheimagewillberevealedlater.

Lookingbackatmygradingcriteria,Iemphasizeddrawingabilityandtoalesserdegreetheconceptoridea.Contentdidandalwayswillmatter,yetwehadanartmajorprogramandso my task was to discover talent and the ability to carry an idea to its full and bestdevelopmentandrewardthatwithanexcellentgrade.Thenextyear,Wellingtongraduatedandthenjoinedthearmy.

Years later, after honorably fulfilling hismilitary obligation,Wellington returned to StThomas and visited me in my classroom. It was at that time he shared with me the mostwonderfulstory.While in thearmyWellingtonhaddifficultyfollowingthestrictregimeofthemilitary andwas constantly challenged by his superior officers to the degree of beingthreatened with physical harassment and worse—incarceration. He said all throughout hismilitary career and ordeals he carried with him in his head that image of the drawingrepresenting his idea of “Stoop to conquer….”He further said that that saying and imagesavedhimfromgoingtothebrigonmanyoccasions.

Ididnotremembertheillustrationatthetime;howeverhementionedtomethebookintheillustrationwas his secretweapon to success.Wellington realized from that art assignmentexercisethatdespiteallthetrialsandtribulationsthatmaybeheapeduponhimhewouldseekknowledgeevenifitmeantbeingbeatenbyaslavemaster.Iwastouchedbythat—tohaveaformerstudentexpress tomeanactualexample inactionof the truemeaningof theaxiomthatsaysa“teacherneverknowswherehisorher influencemightbeginorend.” Itwasan“AHAA!Igot it”momentforme.“Discretionis thebetterpartofvalor” isanotherwayoflooking at the proverbWellington selected—yet to have him remember that classroom artassignmentandmanyyearslaterfinditrelevant,realandareliablesourceofstrengthforhimto persevere is something I will never forget. Who would have thought that a simple artassignmentwouldcarryaformerstudentthroughhisarmysoldieringyearslongafterhighschoolandbeyond?

Astimewentby,Wellingtonbecameapublicservant/CorrectionsOfficerandfromtimetotimewekeptintouch.Atthosetimeswewouldreminisceaboutthepastandhowstudentsoftoday’s generation are somuch different from his school days. The irony you see is thatWellingtonhadbecomesortofaslavemasterhimself,guardingtheinmatesunderhiswatch.Now, he was in a position to see someone operate under difficult conditions, who mayperhaps use the same saying “Stoop to conquer but never too low” as a lesson on how tomanage to surviveandyet even thriveunderdifficult circumstances.Aswe saweachotherovertheyearsWellingtonwouldalwaysreferproudlytometowhomeverwemaymeetashisartteacher.

TodaymysympathiesgooutforWellington,whoissufferingfromaneyedisorderthatheis struggling to combat. Although he has retired—“20Years andOut”—andmoved to themainlandtobenearbettermedicaltreatment,Wellingtonwillalwaysremindmeofthetypeofstudent we sometimes get at some point in our teaching experiences. As public schoolteacherswehavenochoicewhocomesintoourclassrooms.Wemustteachthemall,teachthewholechildandteachthemthelessonsoflife.

~EdneyL.Freeman2009VirginIslandsStateTeacheroftheYearComprehensiveAcademics,grades9-12

MorethanMath

Thehardestarithmetictomasteristhatwhichenablesustocountourblessings.

~EricHoffer,ReflectionsOnTheHumanCondition

Shewasoneofmysecondgradeteachers.Shetaughtmemath,andatthattimeIthoughtshewas teachingmeeverything that Iwouldeverneed toknowaboutmath,andfor thatmatterabout life itself.Well,not really,butMrs.Pillarwasagreat teacher and I learned somuchfromherwhenIwaseightyearsold.However,Iwillalwaysremainindebtedtoherforwhatshedidformemorethanadecadelater.

Asasophomoreincollege,Iwasinvolvedinanearfatal“accident”whenIwalkedintoarobberyataconveniencestore.Oneofthethievesshotmeinthehead.Thethieves,aswellasmost people, thought that Iwas deadorwould soonbedead.Obviously, theywerewrong.However,itwasasevereanddifficultbattlegettingbackintothemainstreamoflife.Ihadtodropoutofcollege.

EvenafterIwasdischargedfromthehospitalIenduredmanyhoursof intensivetherapyeach day. I had to relearn practically everything, includingwalking, talking, and yes, evenmath.

Tohelpmewiththattask,Mrs.Pillarvolunteeredtocometothehospitalandlatertomyhouseonceaweek,toworkwithme.Atfirst,thematerialthatshepresentedappeared,tomostpeople, to be very basic math skills. Then, as time progressed, and I made progress, my“homework”becameprogressivelymoredifficult.

I remember vividly how she would come to my home on Sundays, sit with me at thekitchentable,andthrowvariouscoinsonthetable.Shewouldaskmetoshowher38cents,17cents,63cents….Itwaschallenging—butshealsomadeitfun.

After one-and-a-half years hadpassed, I hadprogressed sufficiently both physically andmentallytoreturntocollege.Oncethere,Icontinuedtherapyregularly,butIwasenrolledincollege.IwasbackattheUniversityofTexas.

FouryearsafterIreturnedtocollege,Igraduatedatthetopofmyclass.Followingthat,Iwentontograduateschool.

Astheyearswentby,IalwayskeptintouchwithMrs.Pillar.Onedaymyparents informedme thatMrs.Pillarhad suffereda strokeafteropen-heart

surgery.Now itwasmy turn tohelpher.When Iwalked into the ICU,Mrs.Pillarwas in ahospitalbedandcouldnot speak. I thought that the situationwasextremely ironic.Nothinghadchangedexceptforwhowasinthebedandwhowasstandingbesideit.

ItoldMrs.PillarthatIwouldbebackandthatIwouldworkwithherjustasshehadworkedwithmeyearsearlier.Asthedayswentby,IsawMrs.PillarprogresseachtimeIvisitedher.

Oneday,whenIwasvisitingher,Ipulledsomecoinsoutofmypocket,droppedthemonherbed,andaskedhertoshowme12cents.Thenursethoughtthatmyactionwasextremelystrange untilMrs. Pillar smiled. I beganworkingwith her just as she hadworkedwithmeyears before. Iwould point to the dimes and the pennies and shewould put them togetherwhenIwouldaskhertogivemetheproperamountofmoney.

Mrs.PillarwaseventuallytransferredfromtheICUtoaprivateroomandthentoarehabroom. As she moved from room to room, there was no doubt in my mind that she wasimproving.

When I visited her, Iwould always ask her to tellme something good. Shewould thenslowly and hesitantly answer my question. As the days would go by, her responses werequickerandmorefluent.Mrs.Pillarmadewonderfulprogressandwaseventuallydischargedfromthehospitalwithaprescriptiontocontinuewithspeechtherapyasanoutpatient.

OnedayIcalledhertowishherahappyNewYear.Shespokeintothephonequitefluentlyand said, “Happy New Year to you and your family, Michael. Thank you for everythingyou’vedoneforme.”

Iquicklyresponded,“Thankyouforeverythingyou’vedoneforme.”Mrs.Pillarwasoneofmysecondgradeteachers,butshetaughtmesomuchmoreabout

lifethanmeremathematics.

~MichaelSegal

ReflectionsonBeingaTeacher

Whenpeoplegotowork,theyshouldn’thavetoleavetheirheartsathome.

~BettyBender

MakingaDifference

Don’tjudgeeachdaybytheharvestyoureapbutbytheseedsthatyouplant.~RobertLouisStevenson

Reflecting on more than two decades of teaching is not as easy as it may sound. Myexperienceshavebeenmany, thestudentsdiverse, thedays long,mypatience tested,butmyendurancestrong.Yousee,IalwayspromisedmyselfthatIwouldn’tjustdosomethingto“doit.” I wouldn’t just occupy a desk, office, or classroom for the goal of punching in andpunchingout.Mygoalwastowakeupinthemorningwithapurpose,spendmydayshelpingchildrenunderstand,andfallasleepknowingthatImadeadifference.Itwasagoodgoal…noble,respectable,andsimple.

I’veneverbeenconfusedaboutmypurposeandIthoroughlyenjoybeinginvolvedwithachild’slearningandunderstanding.However,haveIachievedmygoal?DoIfallasleepeverynightknowingthatImadeadifferencethatday?Humbly,theanswerisno.Asamatteroffact,thedaysspenthopingthatIammakingadifferencefaroutnumberthedaysofknowing.

Living in a small agricultural community in Iowa, I am surrounded by cornfields, beanfields… and more cornfields! The farmers often talk about seed, time, and harvest. Theyalwaysknowwhat tosow,whentosowit,andwhere tosowtheseed. Iwitness thefarmersplanting seedwithaworkethicand fervor that instantlygainsmy admiration.They cannotaffordtofocusonanythingotherthansowingseed!

Oncetheseedisintheground,withabsolutelynoevidenceofasingleplantinthefield,thefarmers begin watering and fertilizing that which was sown. They invest countless hoursproviding for and protecting their unseen crop. They realize that time is an essentialingredient in producingwhat they desire. The expectation is high, regardless ofwhat theyhaveseenuptothatpoint.Afterawhile,thecropsarefullygrown.Thefarmersgettoharvestthefields,andseetheresultoftheirlabor.Theynolongerwonderiftheworkwasworthit…theyknowthatitwas!

TherearedayswhenIcometoschoolwithimportantdecisions,deadlines,familyissues,lackofsleep,etc.takingpriorityinmymind.Ilookatthelessonplanspreparedforthatday,knowingthatIcouldeasilyhittheAuto-Pilotbutton,coastthroughtheday,andpassthetimeuntil I couldattend tomore“important”matters. Iglanceupatmyclassandnotice severalelementary-aged children with similar concerns. They are also coming to school withimportantdecisions,deadlines,familyissues,lackofsleep,etc.Theywanttohittheautopilot

buttonworsethanIdo!Ihavehadtopauseandaskmyself,“Whatcouldpossiblybemoreimportantthanwatering

and fertilizing these precious seeds?” I am happiest when I am reminded of this fact, andunderstandthatadifferencewillbemaderegardlessoftheevidencethatisshownthatday.

I’vesownseedsimpactingthelivesofhundredsofstudentsovertheyears.Idomybesttostayintouchwithmyformerstudents,hopingtogetaglimpseoftheharvestthatI’vesown.IhopeIhavemadeadifferencetoallofmystudents,butIknowIhavemadeadifferencetosome.They’veexpressedthattomeinavarietyofways.Attimes,formerstudentscomebacktomyclassroomtoshowmetheirreportcards,justcometotalk,orbringmeschedulesofthe extracurricular activities they are involved in. However, I will never forget the day Ireceivedaspecificletterfromaformerstudent.

Thislettercameattheperfecttime.IhadjustspentseveraldayshopingthatIwasmakingadifference,seeinglittletonoresultsinmyclassroom.Istillhavetheletterandlookatitoften.Itreads:

DearMs.H:

Youweremy teacher in fourthand fifthgrade. I still remember the lessons that Ilearnedinyourclasstothisday.IrememberhowIusedtositinmyseatandcomplainaboutcertainmathproblemsandhowI’dneverlearnhowtodothem.YouinsistedthatwithyourhelpandlotsofeffortonmypartIwouldunderstand.Youwereright.Youtaughtme that it is important toworkhardand trybecausenothing is impossible tolearnordo.Youhavebeenthereformeoncountlessoccasionswithbothacademicandpersonal

issues.Forexample,youwerewillingtolistenandhelpmewhenIwashavingahardtime dealingwithmy parents’ divorce. You became someone I look up to, trust, andadmire. You always said thatwewere your children because you didn’t have any ofyourown.Iknowyoutrulycareforallofusthisway.So,foralwaysbeingthereformeinthegoodtimesandthebad,Iwanttothankyou

andletyouknowthatyouwillalwayshaveaveryspecialplaceinmyheart.

A teacher ’s commitment never begins and ends with the first and last bell of the day. Ateacher ’sthoughtsneverremainintheschoolbuildingsovernight.Ateacher ’sloveforhisorherstudentsneverfadesattheendoftheschoolyear.Ateacher ’sgreatestrewardisimpactinglives,knowingthatadifferencehasbeenmade.

~LindaHeffner2009IowaStateTeacheroftheYear

Elementaryteacher,grade4

AttitudeofGratitude

Ifyouwanttoturnyourlifearound,trythankfulness.Itwillchangeyourlifemightily.

~GeraldGood

“Dreadinggoingbacktoschool?”myhusbandinquiredashetossedsomejunkmailintotherecyclebin.

“Whydoyouask?”Ireplied.“BecauseIseeaheapofloserscratchticketsinthebin.Thenumberoflotteryticketsyoupurchasehasadirectcorrelationtoyourfeelingsofdesperationaboutyourjob.”

It’strue.Aftertwenty-nineyearsintheclassroom,Iseemtohavelostthatgiddyfirst-day-of-schoolfeelinganditsaddensme.Iwanttobeexcitedaboutanotheryearofpossibility.YetlatelyitseemsI’vebeenfeelinglikeallanotherschoolyearholdsformearemoreproblemstudentsandaprincipalconcentratingtoomuchonstandardizedtestresults.Inmyfirstyearsof teaching therewas time forcreativityand forgetting toknow thestudents.Now it’s justcoach, coach, and coach for the state exams. It’s not much fun for any of us, student andteacheralike.

Good educators know that our attitudes are as important as the information we impart.Classroomclimatecanmakeorbreakasituation,andmygoalhasalwaysbeento treatmystudentswiththerespectandcompassionthattheydeserveashumanbeings.SowhatcanIdotoadjustmyattitude?

Mysistergavemeawonderfulidea.ShesaidthatIshouldstrivetodevelopanattitudeofgratitude towardsmy job andmy difficult students. Itworks! I try to feel grateful thatmyprincipalputhisfaithinmetoguideandhelpthesestudents.Iamgrateful thatsomeofmycolleaguesdidn’tgetaparticularpupilbecausetheirpersonalitieswouldhaveclashedanditcouldhavebeenayearlongdisaster forboth. Iamsincerelygrateful formyownchildren,andprofoundlythankfulthattheydon’thavetocopewiththesituationsinwhichmanyofmystudents find themselves.And finally, I feel gratitudebecause next year someother teacherwillhavethepleasureofthatdifficultstudent’scompany.

Ialsodecidedtokeepajournaloffunnythingsthathavehappenedduringtheschoolyears.Forexample,onedaywhilethestudentsweresupposedtobeworkingontheirsciencelabIobserved twoofmy thirdgraders arguing furiously. I stepped indemanding toknowwhatwasgoingon.Thefirstgirlsaid,“Carmensaysthatherearsaresogoodshecanhearadogwhistle,andthatisn’ttrue,isit?”IrepliedthatevenifCarmenhadreallykeenhearing,mostlikelyshecouldn’thearadog’swhistle.“Yeah,Iknewthat,”thegirlsaid.“Causedogscan’t

whistle.”Anothertimethestudentshadbeengivenaspellinglistandaskedtowriteasentenceusing

eachword.Mercurywason the list.Oneof thestudentswrote,“Lordhavemercuryonmysoul.”ManyatimesincethenIhaverepeatedthosewords,”Lord,havemercuryonmysoultoo!”

Myassistantcommentedonastudent’sname.“Sturgis,that’sacoolname.Didyouknowthere’satowninSouthDakotanamedthat?”sheinquired.

“Yep,I’mnamedafterthattown.MymamarodehermotorcyclethereforarallyandshewentintoheatandIwasborn.”

Nowfolks,youjustcan’tmakeupstufflikethat.IonlywishIhadstartedkeepingtrackofthesestoriesearlier.Icouldhaveretiredonthebookdeal.WhenIhavejustaboutreachedtheendofmyrope,thesestoriesreelmebackin.

Teachingisahardjob.Whatahugeunderstatement!Weallstrivetodotheverybestforourstudents,tryingtorememberthataspreciousasourownchildrenaretous,sotheyaretotheirparents.Wemaynotagreewithhowtheyarebeingraisedandweoftenfeeldistressedatthelackofguidancetheyseemtobegiven,butforthisoneschoolyeartheyareours.

What do you remember about your own school days? Chances are you have two vividmemories:theteachersthatmadeyoufeellikeyoumatteredandtheteachersthatinsomewayleftyoufeelinghumiliatedortraumatized.Weholdthepowertocreatememoriesforstudentsthattheywillcarrywiththemfortherestoftheirlives.Wedomakeadifferenceinthelivesofchildren,andIamgratefulforthatopportunity.

~TommieAnnGrinnell

SecretsStudentsKeep

Bekind,foreveryoneyoumeetisfightingahardbattle.~Plato

Teenagersareunusuallyhonest,tellinguswehavemarkeronourfacesorourshoesareoutofstyle.Yet,sometimes it’swhat theydon’t tellus thatwereallyneed toknow.Thesecretsstudentskeepmightsurpriseyou.

One of my students,Mandy, was a tall, beautiful blonde. She happened to ride the bus.Everyoneinourhighschoolknowsthatbusstudentscomefromthe“freeandreduced”lunchgroup.Theycannotaffordacar,noteventhegastogetbackandforthtoschool.Theyfeelmarked for social ostracism, unless they can conceal their economic disadvantage orsomehow gain acceptance through exceptional academic or outstanding athletic abilities.Mandy had some academic specialties so she had a few friends in the upper echelons.Althoughsocialstandingshouldn’tbesoimportant,itisveryimportanttoeveryteenagerintheworld!

OurstudentcouncilwashostingtheannualfooddriveforthelessfortunateatChristmas.Itwasacontestbetweentheclassestocreativelydesignafoodboxorbasketcontainingalltheessentialsforaholidaydinner,withthewinningclassreceivingapizzaparty.Ourclassmadealistandpasseditaroundforstudentstosignupforabeverage,vegetable,fruit,dessert,ordecoration.Wehadcleverlydecidedtomakeourfoodboxintoagingerbreadhouse.

The entire class was eager to participate. Students began to bring items in, filling thegingerbreadhouse.Therewereonlytwomoredaysuntiltheentrieswouldbejudged.Mandyandafewothershadcomeinduringlunchtohelpglueonthelastofthecandydecorations.Itwasasight tobehold! It looked just likeadollhousewithwindowsanddoorsarchedwithcandy canes. Strings of colored gumballs lined the snow-laden roof. Kisses and chocolatebarsadornedthehouseandlollipopsformedwindows.

We checked the list to make sure every itemwas in the box. A few students, includingMandy, still had not brought the items they had volunteered to bring. That day, Mandylingeredafterclassnearmydesk.Shegavemeanote,said“Don’treaditnow,”andranoutthedoor.Itwasfoldedoverasmanytimesaspossible,indicatingtopsecret.Itread,“IcannotbringthedessertIsignedupfor.MyfamilycannotspareevenonecanoffoodandwemaynotevenhaveChristmasthisyear.”

IfoughtbacktearsasImetthenextclass.Thenoteinmypocketpokedatmyheartallthe

wayhomeandIcriedasIconsideredhowdifficultitwasforhertoadmitshehadnothing.IopenedmyowncabinetandfeltembarrassedathowmuchfoodIsaw.

Ibroughttwopackagesofcakemixandtwocansoffrostingtoschoolthenextmorningand found Mandy before her first class. This was for her: one to take home and one tocontribute to the class. She smiled. Her smile was even bigger when she brought up hercontribution as her namewas called in class that day. It was our secret and no onewouldknow.

OuramazinggingerbreadhousewonthecompetitionandMandyproudlyatehershareofthepizza.Whenthestudentcouncilsponsorwasloadingthebasketsandboxesfordelivery,IsharedMandy’sstory,chokingonthelumpinmythroat.HeimmediatelydecidedtodeliverourentrytoMandy’shouse.Itwasagloriousday!

Wenevermentionedthegingerbreadhouseagainthatyear,andsheandIwouldonlysayhellowhenpassinginthehalls,untiltwoyearslater,whenMandywasgraduating.Shecamebymyroomandhuggedmegoodbye.Shesaidshewouldalwaysrememberme.Shestartedtoleave,thenturnedbackandwhispered,“Nohouseevertastedsweeterthanourgingerbreadhouse.”

Anotherstudentwasburdenedwithamuchdarkersecret.Samwasinmylastclassoftheday.Hesatnearthebackinaroomfulofmostlyrepeats,studentswhohadnotbeensuccessfulatmath,yethadtofulfillthegraduationrequirement.Itwasa90-minuteblockalgebraclassthat seemed much longer if I failed to actively engage the class from the beginning. Thecreativesketchestheclassmadeontheirhomeworkpapers,andtoooftenontheirdesks,hadinspiredmetodesigntheconicslessonaroundart.

Theclassfollowedmyeverystepfordrawingconesintersectedbyplanestoproduceeachofthefourconicssections.Theywerefocused.IwatchedSam.Hehadhisheadproppedup,cuppedintooneenormouspalm,inhisusualtiredmanner.Hewasalargefellow,sopolitethatyouknewhewouldnever cause trouble, yetheoften chosenot toparticipate. Itwouldhavebeeneasytooverlookhimthatday,withtherestoftheclasssoexcitedaboutcombiningtheirartisticinterestwithalgebra.

As I made my way around the crowded room, offering assistance, words ofencouragementandpraise,IcametoSam.Hewasasleepwithhisheadonhisdesk.WhenIroused this gentle giant, he rubbed his eyes and said, “I’m sorry,Mrs.Bryan, I’m just notgetting enough sleep at night.” I softly reminded him he needed to pass, and he could dotoday’swork ifhe just tried.Hesaidagain,“Youdon’tunderstand. Ican’t sleepatnight.” Isuggestedgettinginbedearlierornotstayingupplayingvideogames.Mytonewasneitherharsh, nor punitive, and Sam simply put his head back down and said hewould do better,maybetomorrow.Thelookinhiswearyeyestoldmehereallyneededrestmorethanalgebra.

Whenthefinalbellrang,Samlefttheclassanddrovehome,walkedinhishouseandfoundhismotherdead.Shehadtakenherownlife.

LaterIlearnedthatSamhadbeenstayingupatnighttoprotecthismotherfromhisabusivestepfather.He had been taking care of his younger siblings, aswell. It wasmore than anysixteen-year-oldboyshouldhavetobear.

IneversawSamagain,ashemovedthatweekendtolivewithhisfatherinanotherschool

district.The studentswrote individual notes of comfort and support toSamonnotepaper Iprovidedthenextday.Webundledthemtogethertodeliverasonepackage.Itwasallwehadtogive.Therewasnopublicfuneralservice,notevenawaytoreceivefriendsandfamily—justaprivateburial.Thesadnessengulfedtheentireclassaswemournedhislossforthenextfewdays.

I was glad I had not pushed Sam to work in class that last day or penalized him fornonparticipation. His quiet words still ring inmymemory, “You don’t understand. I can’tsleep at night.”My sensitivity toward any studentwho falls asleep in classwill forever beheightened.Asteachers,weseeonlywhatstudentswillallowustosee.Wemovecloserwhenwecan,buttheentirepicturemaybeblurredbypain,orshame,orfearthatcannotbeformedintowords.Studentsmaybebodilypresent,yetfarremovedfromwhat isgoingonaroundthem. Iwill rememberSamand the tragedyhe faced at the endof anordinary school day.Sleeping inclass thatdaymighthavebeen the lastpeacefulsleephewouldhavebeforehissleepwouldbefilledwithhauntingnightmaresofcominghomethatfatefulday.

~LuajeanN.Bryan2009TennesseeStateTeacheroftheYear

Mathteacher,grades10-12

BrandNewStarts

Dropthelastyearintothesilentlimboofthepast.Letitgo,foritwasimperfect,andthankGodthatitcango.

~BrooksAtkinson

“Hey, do youwantme to tell you about your students?” one of the second grade teachersasked,reachingfortheclassrosterI’djustreceived.

Iwasnewtothebuildingandanxioustomakefriends,soIsmiledandsaid,“Sure.”Theteacherscannedthenamesofthechildrenwhowouldcomprisemythirdgradeclass

that year. Shemade a few clucking noises and said, “Wow, you’re going to have a roughschoolyear.”

Shebeganpointingtomystudents’names.“Thisone,”shesaid,pointingtoalittlegirl’sname,“issweet,butnottoobright.Oh,andhermotherisarealpainintheneck.Oh,andthisboyisnothingbuttrouble.He’llbeinjailsomeday,markmywords.”

She continued down my list, saying something negative about nearly every one of mystudents.Herwordsranginmyhead.Thisoneisafosterchild.Thatoneisaliarandathief.Herfatherisinprison.Hismotherisonherfourthhusband.

Finally,shestoppedandhandedmebackthelist.Shesmiledandsaid,“Nowyou’llknowwhoyou’redealingwith.”

And as each student came through my classroom door on the first day of school, herwordswereallIcouldthinkabout.

“Hi,I’mMrs.Stark,”Isaid.“What’syourname?”“I’mDarren,”atall,skinnyboysaid.He’snothingbuttrouble,Icouldn’thelpthinking.Imetchildafterchild,subconsciouslyprejudgingeachone.Herdadisinjail.Thatboyis

infostercare.Thisonecan’treadandthatonecan’tsitstill.Whenallthestudentshadarrived,Iwentovertheclassrulesandbegantohandouttheir

supplies.Allwhilethesecondgradeteacher ’swarningsechoedinmyhead.“You’regoingtohavearoughschoolyear.”

Atlunchtime,Iwentintotheteacher ’sloungeandsatdowntoeat.SinceIwasnewtothebuilding,afewoftheotherteachersaskedquestionsaboutwhatschoolIhadcomefromandwhatgradesI’dalreadytaught.

Isharedabitaboutmylife.Iwasmarriedwithtwochildren.I’dtaughtkindergartenatmyprevious school. I had gotten my degree from Indiana University. I answered all of theirquestionshonestlyandIwaspleasedthattheycaredenoughtowanttogettoknowme.Butinthebackofmymind,Iknewsomethingwasn’tquiteright.

I had answered their questions, but I had only told themwhat Iwanted them to know. Ididn’tmention the time I’dmisspelled theword “Brian” so thatmyhallway bulletin boardread“HappyBirthday,Mr.Brain!”Ididn’ttellthemthatI’dflunkedhighschoolchemistryorthatIoncereceivedtwospeedingticketsinthesameday.Nodeep,darksecretsrevealedthere.No,IonlytoldthemwhatIwantedthemtoknow.

Andtherewasnoonetherepointingtomynameonalist,saying,“Oh,thatDianeStark,you’llhavetowatchoutforher.She’snotaverygoodteacher.Sheusesallthetonerinthecopymachineandneverrefillsit.Shewaitstillthelastminutetodoherlessonplans.Oh,andtheworstpartisthatshebribesherstudentswithcandytogetthemtobehave.”Therewasnoonethere,givingawayallmysecretsandtellingtheotherteachersaboutmyshortcomings.

Iwasgiventhebenefitofthedoubt.AndIrealizedthatmythirdgradersdeservedthesamechanceIwasgetting.Theydeservedafreshstart.

Back inmyclassroom, Idiscardedmyplans for thatafternoon’s lesson. Instead, I askedeachchildtowritemealetter.“Tellmethreethingsyouwantmetoknowaboutyou,”Isaid.“Theycanbethingsaboutschool,oraboutyourfamilyoryourhouse.Youcanwriteaboutwhatyoulikeorwhatyoudon’tlike.Youcantellmeanythingyouwantmetoknow.”

WhenIcollected their letters, Iwasbothsurprisedand touchedbywhat thechildrenhadchosentosharewithme.Manyofthemwroteabouttheirsiblings,theirpets,andtheirfavoritefoods.

Butafewofthemgotmorepersonal.Thelittlegirlwhosefatherwasincarceratedwrote,“Mydadisinjailbecausehesolddrugs.Hedidabadthing,butthatdoesn’tmakehimbad.Itdoesn’tmeanI’mbadeither,eventhoughkidsmakefunofme.”

Anotherchildwrote,“Myfavoritefoodsarepizza,macaroniandcheese,andspaghetti.ButsometimeswhenI’matschool,Ican’t thinkrightbecauseI’msohungry.Imissbreakfastalot.Andsometimesdinnertoo.ButIgettoeatlunchatschool.Ilikeschool.”

ButDarren,theboywhoI’dbeenwarnedwas“nothingbuttrouble,”wrote,“IhateschoolandIhateteachers.I’mbadbutIain’tstupidsodon’tsayIam.”Ididn’tknowhowtohandlethissituation,butIknewIhadtosaysomething.Whentherestofthestudentswenttoartclass,IaskedDarrentostaybehind.

“IaskedyoutostaybackbecauseIhadaquestionaboutyourletter,”Isaidwithasmile.“Canyoureadittome,please?”

Heshrugged,buttookthepaperfrommyhands.“ItsaysI’mabadkid,”hesaidandhandeditbacktome.

“Darren, that’snotwhat itsays.Besides,you’renotabadkid.Youseemlikeaveryniceboy.”

“Youdon’tknowmeyet,”hesaid.“Onceyoudo,you’llthinkI’mbad.”Hisgazeliftedtomineasheadded,“Andstupidtoo.”

“Darren,whenyouwrotethis,whatwereyoutryingtotellme?”Hetookadeepbreathandsaid,“ThatI’mstupid.ThatIusedtotryinschoolbutIcouldn’t

getit.SoIstoppedtryingandjuststartedbeingbad.Now,nobodyremembersthatI’mstupid.”Itwastrue.Histeacherfromlastyearhadonlymentionedhisrebelliousbehavior,notany

academicdeficiencies.Hislittlecover-uphadworked.

“Hey,Darren,” Iwhispered. “Can I tell you a secret? Someone once toldme that Iwasgoingtohaveabadschoolyear.ButIdecidedthatIwasn’t.”

“Youcanjustdecidetomakethingsbetter?”heasked.“How?”Ishrugged.“Youhavetotryyourbest.Andrememberthateveryday—andeveryschool

year—isabrandnewstart.”Darrensmiled.“Lastyeardoesn’tmatternow?”“Notwithmeitdoesn’t.”Hethoughtforaminute.“Idon’twanttohaveabadschoolyeareither.”Thenextmorning,Darrengavemeback the letterhe’dwritten.He’ddonesomeediting

anditnowread,“IusedtohateschoolandIusedtohateteachers.Butthatwaslastyear.”Ilaughedandhuggedthat“nothingbuttrouble”boy.AndIthankedGodforbrandnewstarts.

~DianeStark

SpringtimeMemory

Andintodayalreadywalkstomorrow.~SamuelTaylorColeridge

Springisanexcitingtimeinaschool.Astheweatherturnswarmer,themoodturnsbrighter,andteachersandstudentsalikeareexcitedaboutnewpossibilities.Butforme,thecomingofspringtakesmeback…tothememoryofsomenewsIheardinAprilof2003.EveryspringIbeginhavingthesamethoughts…thoughtsofBrian….

Itallbeganin2001whenIsentalittlestoryinane-mailtomystepdaughter,Heather,whohadgraduatedfromhighschoolwithBrianin1996andherhusband,Chad,whowas in theMarinesatthetime.Itwentlikethis:

Oneofthejoysofteachingisthateverywhereyougofortherestofyourlife,yourunintosomeoneyoutaught,arelativeofsomeoneyoutaught,orsomeonewhoknowssomeone you taught. This morning I was having breakfast with a friend when IrecognizedthewaitressasLetitia,thesisterofmyformerstudentBrian.Brianwasinmyseventhgradelanguageartsclassinthe1990-1991schoolyear.I

hadhim4thperiod.HowdoIrememberthat?BecauseIhadtheentirejuniorvarsityfootballteam4thperiod!ItoldLetitiathatongamedays,theplayerswouldweartheirjerseystoschool,andtheentireroomwouldturnred.Brianwasagood-lookingguyanda talented footballplayer.Schoolworkwasnot

hisfavoriteactivity,buthedidit,knowingthatIwouldtalkto“coach”ifhedidn’t.Hedidanaveragejobonthatwork,butheplayedfootball likeahero…withapassionthatmostseventhgradershaven’tyetfound.Hewasalsopoliteandhadasmilethatneverlefthisface.NomatterhowhardIwasonhim…forforgettinghishomework,fortalking about football instead of doing classwork, for beggingme daily to take theclassoutsidesotheboyscouldthrowafootballaround,hewouldsitandgrinatme.Onthedaysthathewouldwearmedown,andwewouldgooutsideafterlunch,hewasanaturalleader,breakingeveryoneintoteamsandcallingplays.Letitiabrokeintomythoughts,saying,“BrianisintheMarinesnow.”Do you know how that feels? Someone reaches into your memory, pulls out a

seventhgrader,andmakeshimaman.“Theycan’tbreakhim,”shesaid.“Butthey’retrying.”

Ithought,“Nope,theywon’tbreakhim.They’lltry,buthe’lljustgrin…”Then I thought back tomy 4th period class of 1991. There, in the back, looking

bored,andcountingdowntheminutestothefootballgame,sitsBrianAnderson,futureMarine.

InAprilof2003,Ifoundacopyofthate-mailandaddedthefollowing:

TodayIheardsomebadnews.Brian,theMarinetheywouldn’t“break,”waskilledlastWednesday outside of the Iraqi city of Nasiriyah. I think of all the clichés—heloved what he was doing, everyone who knew him is proud, the world will be anemptierplacewithouthim,andsoon.Butmostly,Ithinkofthatgrin…andwhenIlookbackacrossthat4thperiodclass,

thelastdesk…inthemiddlerow…isempty.

TheworldhasjustexperiencedoursixthspringwithoutBrianAnderson.ButIhavelearnedsomething important.NowI lookatmyseventhgradersnot somuch for the lanky-legged,gigglingkids theyarenow…but forwhat theywillbesomeday.TheymaybecomeheroeslikeBrian.Butfornow,I’lljustenjoywatchingthemgrinatme…andthinkaboutthatsweetsmile that always saton the faceofBrianAnderson, themiddle school footballplayer andfutureLanceCorporaloftheUnitedStatesMarineCorps.

~CindiRigsbee2009NorthCarolinaStateTeacheroftheYear2009NationalTeacheroftheYearFinalist

Readingteacher,grades6-8

Teacher’sSummerList

Somedayisnotadayoftheweek.~AuthorUnknown

Picturemywife,Rita,baldwithasingleearringinherrightlobe,wearingawhiteT-shirtandwhitepants.That’sher.ThatiswhatIhaveseenthisweek:Mrs.Clean.JustlikeintheadonTVforherfirsthusband,sheshowsupjustwhenyouneedher.Shehasbeenintoherlistforthesummer.

She,likeallteachers,hasalistforwhatsheisgoingtodoforthesummer.Thisisalistthatismadethedaythatschoolgetsout.Allowmetogiveyouapictureofwhathappens.Onthe last day of school,when the bell rings at 3:10, the students get on the buses andwavegoodbye, jointheirmothersorfathersandheadhomeforelevenweeksoffun.At3:11, theteachers leave. In small groups they gather at some teacher ’s backyard patio and consumewineorbeer(orsodapopforthestilluptightones),andrejoiceintheirnewly-wonfreedom.

Afterthebottlesareemptied,theyheadhometotheirownstashes.Astheyunwindoveryetanotherbeverage, theyknow it is time tomakea lessonplan for their summer.“Whoops,”theysay,astheyrealizethattheyarestillthinkingschoolinsteadofrealgrownupadulttalk.Theyrealizethatwhattheyhavetodoismakethe“List.”

Now this list basically comes in three parts. The first is what they are going to do torecoverfromtheschoolyear:sleeppast10AM,ignoreanyhumanbeingsunderfivefeettall,eatnon-school lunchfood,anddefinitelydonothing thatevenremotely looks like theyarecomplying with “No Child Left Behind.” This is considered the god-given, necessary,“unwinding”phase.Duringthisphasetheyacceptnoresponsibilityforanyhouseholdchore,grocery shopping, or husband acknowledging activity. By Jove, they put up with thosebrainlesstwitsforninemonths,sotheydeservesometimetothemselves.

Thesecondpartdealswithhavingfun:coffeewiththeneighborladies,lunchwithteacherfriends, trips to see her side of the family, trips to seemy side of family, shopping trips,bettingattheracetrack,moreluncheswithfriends,somecontactwithgrownchildrenbutnota tiring amount, etc. This phase is the “recreating” phase. This is necessary to retain theirsanitywhichhasbeen robbed this past year by those snot-nosed,whiney, despicableknow-nothings.Thisalsoisagod-givenrightandnohusbandbetterinterfereforanyreason.

Thethirdpartofthelististhechoresthattheyhavebeenputtingoffforninemonths.Whatnormalworkingadultsdoonweekends,teachersputoffuntilthesummerwhentheywillhavethatwholenineweeks todo things. In theirmindseachyear, they really think that theycankeepahousewellmaintainedbydoingthingstoitonlyinthesummer.Asthisincludesthings

likereplenishingthetoiletpapersupply,IhopethattheyallbuyalotinJuly.Aswillhappen,thispartofthelistgetstackledduringthelastninedaysoftheirfreedom.Thisiswhatthewifeisinvolvedwithatthemoment.Sheisawhirlingdervish,cleaninganythinginsight.ShegoesbacktotheclassroomnextThursday.

Now this list has small items, such as paint the house, clean all of the cupboards, re-landscape the backyard, take down theChristmas decorations, remodel the bathrooms, andlearnMicrosoftExcel.

Frankly, I don’tknowwhy theywrite anew list everyyear, as theynever finish theonefromthepreviousyear.

Onceyourspouse,theteacher,passesagefifty,shedoesn’teventrytoconvinceyouthatcleaningandrepairwillbeonhersummerlist.Shejusttellsyouitwillhavetowaittillshetakesearlyretirement.

~KenanBresnan

ASimplePlace

Actasifwhatyoudomakesadifference.Itdoes.~WilliamJames

I have never been able to explain how I know.Does the pattern of lights in the classroomwindowslookdifferent?Thesoundfromtheplayground—isitquieterorperhapsmorenoisythanusual?Myhusband thinks it is thepostureofmycolleagues that even fromadistancelooksdifferent,wrong.

Every time tragedy has struck in the tiny community of Strafford, I have known it herefirst,intheemptysilenceoftheschoolparkinglot.TodaythefeelingissostrongIfighttheurgetoclimbbackintomycar.Iwouldliketogohome,pretendIdonotknow,pretendthattheairisnotthickwithit.InsteadItakeadeepbreath.Myhandtrembles.Igrasptheknoboftheheavymaindoor.Thismorning,Iknow,Iwillfinditopen.

Strangely,Ifeelnocuriosity.Whateverhashappened,has,inaveryrealway,happenedtome.ThatishowIfeelwhentheytellme,asifithadhappenedinmyhouse,asifIhadbeenthere.Ihearthesirenoftheambulance,fightthecold,theconfusion,thesharpfinalityofthediagnosis.Foramoment,Iamtheneighborcalledinthedarkofmorningbythirteen-year-oldSylvia,“Pleasecome,mydadisdead.”

Allofthishurts.AsIdidintheparkinglot,I longnowtoputadistancebetweenmyselfandthisgrief.Instead,Iletitwashoverme.Iknowthatthisfeelingisthefoundationforwhatwillcomenext;thefoundationforwhatIcanseehasalreadybeguntohappenattheNewtonSchoolthismorning.

Aroundmeisthequiethumofactivity.Someonehaslefttocalltheguidancecounselor,theminister.OthersaremakingalistofchildrenmostlikelytobeaffectedbyJohn’sdeath:thefriendsofhischildren,ahandfulofstudentswhoweretutoredinJohn’shome.Therestofusare discussingwhat to tell the students. John died only hours ago; few people have heard.Together,wemakeaplan.Allthechildrenwillbetold,quietly,andwithcare.

The remainder of the daymoves slowly. The air is heavy and the building is strangelyhushed,exceptfortheincessantringingofthephone.Infrontoftheeighth-graderoom,smallknotsofSylvia’sclassmatesgathertowhisperandcry.Asteadystreamofstudentsmovestoandfromthecounselor ’soffice.Afewadultsvisittheretoo.

Itisalmosttheendofthedaywhentheschoolsecretarycomestogetme.Sheputsherhandonmyarm.Hervoiceisunusuallysoftasshesays,“I’vejustcomefromthesecondgrade.

Yourdaughterseemsverysad.”IthankherandheadtowardMeg’sclassroom.Thesecondgradersareoddlypeaceful.SomeareworkingoncardsforAnna,Sylviaand

Brian;othersplayquietly.Mydaughter is huddledclose toher teacher, theonly childwithtearsstillrunningdownherface.

Ireachouttoholdher,puzzledbytheintensityofhergrief.MegdidnotknowMr.Friscowell;shedidnotplaywithanyofhischildren.Wetalkandcuddle,finallydecidetomakeacard. Iwatchher shapeherpain intobig secondgrade letters,which seem to struggle freefromthepurplecrayon:

IfealsosoryforyouAnnathatyourDaddydied.

I look at her tiny seven-year-old face, searching for somethingmore complicated than thesimple grief I see there. But what my daughter feels requires no elaborate explanation. AterriblethinghashappenedtoAnna.Meg,withallherheart,wishesthatithadnot.

Afterschool,thestaffgathersinthelibrary.Noonehasannouncedthismeeting,butweareall there. Iwait silently forwhat I knowwill soonbegin,drawing strength from thegrouparoundme.

Whathappensnextissofamiliaritshouldnotsurpriseme,yetitalwaysdoes.Aphonecallis made to find out what is needed. Within a few hours, we are done. Meals have beenarranged,flowersordered,abankaccountopenedfordonations.DrivershavevolunteeredtoferrytheFriscochildrentobasketballanddrama.Sylvia’steacherischosentokeepintouchwithMarieFrisco.Shewillcalldailyforawhile,tomakesurethatwearedoingallthatcanbedone, tobesureMarie,Anna,SylviaandBrianknowthatwecare. I sitback,exhausted.Newton’steachershavejusttaughttheirmostvaluablelesson.

Anna, Sylvia and Brian will learn this lesson, as will the children of people bringingmeals,andthestudentswhoglimpsetheFriscogirls inthebackseatoftheir teachers’cars.Yearafteryear,theywillsee,asIhave,billspaid,clothingfound,housescleaned,groceriesappear on people’s doorsteps. Gradually, they will come to understand that the inevitablesadness in our lives is also an occasion for caring, for sharing the experience of beinghuman. Over time, it will become clear that this sharing is both a responsibility and aprivilege.

Inmytownchildrenunderstandthisquiteearly.Eventhelittlestonesmakecards,delivercookies, pick flowers. When six-year-old Meg had pneumonia, my neighbors brought uschickensoupandhomemadebread;theirchildrensentaboxfilledwithtoysandgamesfromtheirownclosets.

It was hard, I’m sure, to give away those beloved toys. It is hard to find time tomakechickensoup,togomilesoutofyourwaytotakesomeoneelse’schildtobasketballpractice.It is hard to visit sick people in the hospital, to go to funerals, to explain death to youngchildren, to lie awake at night worrying about other people’s problems. None of this,however,isashardaslivinginaworldwherepeopledonotdothesethings.

IthinkofthisasIsitatmydimlylitkitchentable,strugglingtowriteasympathycardtotheFriscos.Nothingiscomingoutright.ItseemstherearenowordsforwhatIwanttosay.

Ifinallydecidetobegininthesimplestplace,intheplacewheregoodschoolsbegin,intheplacewheregoodpeoplebegin:

“Iamsosorry,Anna,thatyourDaddyhasdied…”

~DianaLeddy2009VermontStateTeacheroftheYear

Clusterteacher,grades3-5

ALossforWords

Icanlivefortwomonthsonagoodcompliment.~MarkTwain

“Attention students….” As usual, it sounded important. Throughout the day, classes wereinterrupted by meaningless chatter. “…Nohemi Treviño was an honor student.We will allmiss her greatly.” A girl had died, and to my relief, I didn’t recognize the name. I had aNohemi,butnotaNohemiTreviño.“Excuseme,I’msorry.HernamewasNohemiTorres.”Andthat’showIlearnedofthelossofmystudent.NohemiTorreswassixteenyearsold.Shewasshotintheheadbyherex-boyfriend.

Twoweeksbefore,shehadaskedmetowriteherarecommendationforNationalHonorSociety.Knowingitwasaformality,Iquicklyfilledthesmallspaceprovided:“Nohemiisadiligentworkerandanexcellentperson.Herdedicationtoherworkandtoafter-schoolPSATpreparation is unmatched.” I left out her most special qualities. Attentive and interested,seriousbuthappy,shejustifiedmydecisiontoteach.

ButNohemiwasmorethanthat.Ibelieveshewasasymbolforthefutureandpotentialofallstudentsofallracesandeconomicbackgrounds.Herdeterminationandprideinherworkwasademonstration thatalloneneeds tosucceedis thewill to try.Herdeath, tome,wasametaphor aswell. It represented theunfairness and randomness thatdestroys thehopes anddreamsoftoomanygoodpeople.

Nohemi’slastwordstomewere“Thankyou,”afterIgaveherbacktherecommendationform. I don’t remember my last words to her. I know they weren’t “You’re welcome” or“Congratulations,youearnedit.”Andtheywerecertainlyspokeninmytrademarkmonotonewithmyexpressionlessmouth.

Don’tsmileuntilChristmas.Thatwasmy simple philosophyof classroommanagement.The previous year,my first

yearofteaching,Ilearnedtheunpleasantconsequencesofbeingnice.IsofearedanotheryearofscreamingthatIrefusedtoexpressanyemotionandinsteadbecamearobot.

Betheirteacher,nottheirfriend.Tothestudents,mystoicpresencecouldhavebeeninterpretedasanythingfromapathyto

seriousness tocontempt. Iwasn’t concernedwith their impressions.Whatmatteredwas thatmyclasseswerequietandlearning.Thestrategywassuccessfuland,soitseemed,flawless.TwohoursbeforeIheardtheannouncement,IhadcasuallymarkedNohemiabsentinmyfirst

period class. The students were not surprised at my lack of reaction, even though theyassumedIalreadyknew.

Onceyouestablishcontrol,it’seasytolightenup.I’mnotsurewhen,butImusthaveslipped—negligentlyallowingthepleasureofknowing

a student like Nohemi to penetrate my façade.When I heard the announcement, I felt likecrying,butIdidn’t.Icouldn’t.

Thenextday,Iaddressedherclassmatesandheremptydesk:“IwishIknewhowtoteachyou to deal with this. Actually, I need someone to teachme.Maybe you’re thinking ‘whatgood is going to school and learningAlgebra if I couldbedead tomorrow?’ I don’t thinkNohemiwouldhavesaid that.She’sprobablyup inHeavennow,andasgreatas it is there,she’sprobablywishing shecouldbe righthere.She loved school.Nohemi isdead,butherdreamsarestillrighthere.Youknowwhattheywere:Tolearn.Tohaveasuccessfulfuture.Sheknewthattofulfillthosedreamswouldtakecourageandeffort.Nowit’syouwhoneedthatcourageandeffort.Becausenowit’syourresponsibilitytoadoptthosedreams,andkeepthemalive.”

Sincethatday,I’machangedteacher.Isay“hello”whenIpassbymystudentsinthehall.WhenIgiveback tests, Isaysomethingencouraging.Generic teachercomments like“NiceJob,”writtenonthe top,arenotsufficient. Ineveragainwant tobehauntedbythequestion“Did sheknow I cared?”ToNohemi, I never said it. Iwrote it, but that’snot the same. It’sspeakingitthatmatters.It’slookingatthepersonandgenuinelysaying,“I’mreallyproudofyou.”Noonewantstoreadabouthowthey’re“diligent”andhowtheirworkis“unmatched.”IfNohemiknewhowfondofher Iwas,sheknewinspiteofmyefforts tohide it.Shewasperceptiveenoughtodothat.I’malmostpositive.

~GaryRubinstein

AGreaterPurpose

Inteachingyoucannotseethefruitofaday’swork.Itisinvisibleandremainsso,maybefortwentyyears.

~JacquesBarzun

A former student,who is now a teacher atmy high school,walked byme in the hall thisafternoonandsaidwithasmile,“Ms.H,Iknowyouloveourwordoftheweek.Ihearditonthe announcements thismorning and I immediately thought of you.” I replied, “ThankyouPharen; thatpleasesme.”Shewenton to say, “I always rememberyou talking tomeaboutintegrityandcharacterandhowimportanttheywere.”Ithankedheragainandshecontinuedondownthehallway.

As I reflecton this interaction, itbringsasmile tomyface.Of themanywords that shecould associate with me, the fact that she associated the word “integrity” is an importanttestimonytomyinfluenceasaneducator.IbelievethatsheassociatedtheideaofhonestyandmoralandethicalcharacterwithmebecauseoftheexampleIhavesetwithmylife.Iamfarfromperfect but I have chosen tomake a conscious effort to live a life of integrity inmyclassroom,inmyhomeandinmycommunity.

Pharendidnotpursueadegreeinscience—thedisciplineareathatIteach—butIamhappytothinkthatIhaveservedtoimproveherlifebywhatI taughther.Ibelieve that thesubjectmatterItaughthasimprovedherlifebutIknowthatthelifelessonswillpayintoeternity.

Thisscenarioservedtoremindmetodayofmygreaterpurposeinteachingschool.ItcallstomindafavoritescripturefromGalatians6:9—“Letusnotgrowwearyindoinggoodforattherighttimewewillreapaharvest,ifwedonotgiveup.”

I am thankful for a reminder today—when it seems that no one is “getting it”—that theimportantlessonsarebeingcaughtandtaughtifIjustkeep“doingtherightthing.”

~ChantelleHerchenhahn2009MississippiStateTeacheroftheYear

Scienceteacher,grades9-12

FirstDayJitters

Mightythingsfromsmallbeginningsgrow.~JohnDryden

Iwakewithnoneedforanalarm.Idon’tneedone;it’sthefirstdayofschool.Ispringfrommybedandheadstraightintothebathroomwithsuchexcitement,tryingtodecidewhethertowear thepinkblousewithmyOldNavy fittedgreypantsor theblack cotton, three-quartersleevetopwiththewhitecapris.

I turn on the shower and let the warm water run from the top of my head, down myshouldersandsoakmy toesbeforedecidingon thewhitecapriswith theblackcottonshirt.“Black isgrownup,” I tellmyself. “It looks seriousbut subdued,”andafter all, howmuchlongerwillIbeabletowearwhitecapriswithSeptemberlurkingaroundthecorner?Itoweloff,getdressedandspendjustafewminutesmorethannormalblow-dryingmyhair.

Mylunch,packedthenightbeforeinpreparationforthe“bigday,”evenhasmynameonit… in bold permanent marker… the waymymother showedme! It consists of an apple,yogurt,turkeywrap,twobottlesofwater,threegrahamcrackersandjustincase…anorangeandsourdoughpretzels.

IstuffmylunchintothequiltedVeraBradleybagIboughtwithmysisteroverthesummer.Sheboughtthesamestyle,buthersismoresedatecomparedtotheboldred,black,blueandyellow swirly patterns onmine. She said it would look great if I wore it withmy “funkychunkies,”apetnameshegavetomymulti-colored,corkheeledsandalsIalsopickedupwithheronapreviousshoppingtrip.“Iguaranteeallthecoolkidswilllikethem!”shepromisedmeaswepaidattheregister.

Standingatmybreakfastcounter,I’mnotsosureIshouldbewearingthiscrazyensemblethatshouts,“Lookatme!”Butthesensiblesideofmybraintakesoverandtellsme“Toolatenow…it’s7:03….”Shovingthelastbitofcornmuffinintomymouth,Irunoutthedoor,onlytoreturnseveralmoretimesasIcheckandrecheckthatIhaveeverything.

ThecoolleatherupholsteryinthecarsendsaslightshiverdownmyspineasIdesperatelytry to think of somethingwitty to impress the peoplewithwhom Iwill spend the next 180days.

It’s7:48bythetimeIreachschool,andalreadyaseaofchildrenareformingoutsidethefamiliar old brick building.Most of the kids look happy to be there… that’s a good sign!Takingadeepbreathandheadingstraightfor thecrowd,mysmile is tight.Idon’twant thebutterfliesinmystomachtoflyoutmymouththeminuteIsaysomething.Workingmywaythroughparents, teachersandkids, I amencircledandsooneveryonewants toknowhowI

spentmysummerandwhereIboughtmycapris.Conversationiscutshort,however,bythesoundofthefirstbell.Everyoneracestostand

intheirappropriatelines…somethingyoucanonlylearnbywatchingothersovertheyears.ThankgoodnessIamnotnew!Iraceovertothethirdgradelinesandwaitformynametobeannounced… suddenly all eyes are on me! As other teachers begin calling their students’names,mylinebegins“thewalk”…downthecorridor,pastthelibrary,towardthecomputerroomuntilwestopoutsideafriendlyclassroomdecoratedwithapplesandbrightposters.Asignonthedoorreads,“WELCOMEtoTHIRDGRADE!”

Iwalktowardthefrontoftheroomandwatchasothersscrambleforaseatwhichwillgetthem closer to friends, allowing them secret whispers before the teacher starts herintroduction.

“Goodmorning,” a cheery voice says.With surprise, I recognize the voice asmyown!“MynameisMrs.Benoit,andIwillbeyourteacherthisyear.Ilookforwardtoourgettingtoknowoneanotherbetter.”

Minutes turn into hours and soon, in an empty classroom, erasing the day’s dustymemoriesfromthenewlypaintedchalkboard, Ismile tomyself.“Theylikeme, theyreallylikeme!”

~AmyBenoit

AnIndianTeachesAmerican-StyleinPolynesia

Travelandchangeofplaceimpartnewvigortothemind.~Seneca

Thisisastoryofmytransformationfromastudenttoanofficeexecutivetoateacherwithmanywonderfulexperiencesinashortspanoftime!

IwasbornandbroughtupinIndia.Ihavetravelledwithmyparentsandwaseducatedindifferent cities and towns of India asmy fatherwas in the air force andmoved from onestationtoanother.

MyfirstteachingassignmentwaswhenIwasjustseventeenyearsold,whiletakingmyfirstyearBachelor ’sdegreecourseinScience(Chemistry,PhysicsandMath).Atenth-gradeboyapproachedmefortutoring,andinitiallyIhesitatedtocommit,butmygrandmotherinspiredmetotakeupthechallenge.

Tutoringanotherhighschoolchemistrystudentduringmysecondyearprogramwasmysecond teaching assignment, which we successfully completed, as that student was veryconsistent and forced me to be consistent too! During my higher education courses, Icontinuedtutoringhighschoolstudents.

Aftermygraduation, I joined themastersprogramforscience inChemistrybut Ihad todiscontinuethatafteralmosttwoyearstotakeajobinDubaiduetotheattractionofawhite-collar jobwithanimmediateincometostartmymarriedlife.AftermovingtoDubaiintheMiddleEast,Iworkedwithagroupofcompaniescontinuouslyfortenyearsinadministrationand accounts.At the same time I continued tutoring high school students inChemistry andMath,part-time.

WhenmywifeBeenagottheoffertoteachinAmericanSamoaIreadilyagreedbecauseIlikedtoteachandwantedachangefromthemonotonousandhighpressureofficework.

IstartedworkingatLeoneHighSchoolinthebeginningofsecondsemesterin2003-4anditwashardtocope.TherewereabunchofgoodstudentsineachclassbutunfortunatelyIhadmanyspoiledonestoowhogavemealotofheadaches.ThosedaysIeventhoughttoreturntomypreviousjob.Butasa lastattemptIstartedexperimentingwithdifferentapproachesandteaching methods for managing the large classes. It was effective and I was tempted tocontinue.

Next I decided to do the certification courses and after that there was never an end. Iattendedalltheworkshopsthatwereavailable.

Formycurrentteachingpractices,Iheavilyrelyonmyexperiencesfrommyhighschooleducation.WhileIteachIrecallwhathappenedinmyhighschoolclassrooms.Irememberthegoodteachersandthebadones.Imostlydonotrememberthemediocreones.

Irememberthegoodonesbecausetheyweretheoneswhoeitherhadgoodrelationshipswithusasstudentsorwhotaughtuswithutmostsincerityanddedicationeveniftheydidn’thave an outstanding relationshipwith us. I remember the bad ones too because either theywere very brutal or totally mean and full of vengeance against adolescent behavior. Themediocreoneswerenot goodor bad enough to remember.Nowwhile I teach,whenever Itakeasteptodosomethinginmyclass,Icomparethesituationwithmyownformerclasses.ThatwayIamabletopredictalmost80%ofthepsychologyofthecurrentstudentsandplanmyclassesaccordingly.Ihaveexperiencedsuccessinthis.

Davidisanexampleofthis.Davidcametomyclasswhenhewasafreshman.HewalkedintomyPhysicalScienceclassthreeyearsago.Inoticedfirstthathewasverymuchavillage-lifestyleorientedboy.Hislanguagewaspoor.ButIfoundthathewasanenthusiastickidwhowaswilling toparticipateand learn. Iused togiveextra science readingandpronunciationpractice,asIhadotherstudentsalsowhowerepoorinlanguage,butnotasbadasDavidwas.When I encouraged him to read, he readily picked up that challenge. That made himunderstand the science concepts much better than before and he started getting improvedscoresinthesubject.Ievendiscussedhisreading/languageproblemwithhisEnglishteacherandshealsogaveextracaretohimforhisimprovementinreadingandspeakingskills.

IfoundthatDavidwasnotreadytogiveup,evenwhenotherkidsteasedhimwhileheread.Hetriedharderandeventuallyimprovedhisreadingskillsandhenowasaseniorspeakswelland he gave a speech in Englishwhile he ran for the student body president post!Hewaschosen!Hereceivedbetterscoresinscienceandhadbettergradesthanwhathewasgettinginthebeginning.AndnowheistakingPhysicsinmyclassashecanreadandinterpretPhysicsconceptsverywell.

AsDavid has his hair trimmed like PresidentObama and is the student body president,studentsgavehimthenickname“Obama.”Heusedtogetannoyedinthebeginningbutnowhelikestobecalledthatandeveneveryemployeeintheschoolcallshim“Obama!”

We may be located in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, but we are still an AmericanterritorywithAmericantraditions.EveryThanksgivingperiodwehaveanannualschoolandPTA-organizedturkeyrun(adistanceofaroundfivemiles)tohaveacommunityget-togetherandfunactivities.Professionalrunners,variouscommunitymembers,teachersasadvisorstodifferentclasses,powerwalkingteachers,andjoggerstakepart.

EventhoughImonitoredandhelpedatvariouswaterstationsIwasnotparticipatingintherun.Butthreeyearsagosomeofmystudentschallengedmeinvariouswaystoparticipateinthe turkey run. I thought I would heed my students’ request even though I was not thatconfident.(Iusedtotakepartregularlyinlongdistancerunningeventsinthetrackandfieldprogramsbackinmyschoolandcolleges.)

Idecidedtousemypreviousknowledgeinrunningandtrainedforacoupleofweeksandontheturkeydayrunin2006,Icouldbeatmanyofmystudents,totheirsurprise.Itwasfunandtheassociationwiththemmadeuscloser.Igavethemtipsforenduranceandtrainingand

Isawmanyofthembeatmeinthenextyear.Iamaregularparticipantnow!

~MuraliGopal2009AmericanSamoaStateTeacheroftheYear

Scienceteacher,grades9-12

Editor ’s note: American Samoa is an unincorporated territory of the United States in theSouthPacificOcean,locatedabout2,700milesfromHawaii.Thepopulationofabout65,000livesinalandareaalittlelargerthanWashington,D.C.

TouchingtheFuture

Thedirectioninwhicheducationstartsamanwilldeterminehisfuturelife.~Plato

Iamhonoredandblessedtoworkinthegreatestprofession.Despitethelonghoursandhardwork,IfinisheachdayfeelingasthoughIhavemadeadifference.Thisisthedrivethatkeepsteachersinvigoratedandpassionate.AsChristaMcAuliffesaid“Itouchthefuture,Iteach.”

WhenIwasnamedMarylandTeacheroftheYear,Ireceivedacongratulatorye-mailfroma former student, Morgan, who is currently attending Georgetown University and is anofficer of the student-runWomen in Politics group. I recently turned on the television towatchacollegebasketballgametofindanotherformerstudent,Austin,runningupanddownthecourtforGeorgetown.Walkingthroughashoppingmallrecently,Iencounteredaformerstudent,Olade,dressedinasuit.Afterabriefgreeting,hehandedmeabusinesscardforthecompany thathe just started,atage twenty-two.Anotherstudentsaidhe is in theprocessofapplyingforlawschoolatHowardUniversity.Believeitornot,Iencounterformerstudentswithsimilarsuccessstoriesnearlyeveryweek.Onestudent,Ta-sha,isofftotheUniversityofMaryland,EasternShorenextyeartostudy,ofallthings,SocialStudies/Education.Nowthat’sastudentaftermyownheart!

Seeing the success of former students and knowing that I was able to make a smallcontributiontotheirsuccessduringthetimethattheysatinmyclass,isthegreatestreward.Sometimes,whileIamwatchingmycurrentstudentsworkingandinteractinginclass,Itrytopicturewhat theywill be doing ten years from now. I wonder if I am looking at a futuresenatororjudge.Canyouimaginebeingabletosay,“ItaughtSenatorThomasgovernmentintenthgrade?”Iwouldnottrademycareerforanyother.Weliterallytouchthefutureeachandeveryday.

~WilliamThomas2009MarylandStateTeacheroftheYear

SocialStudiesteacher,grade10

MeetOurContributors

AngelaN.Abbott is a fifth grade teacherwho earnedherMaster ’s degree fromPittsburgStateUniversity;shespeaksprofessionallyforAbbottLearning(abbottlearning.org),andwasnamedWal-MartTeacheroftheYear.Morethananything,sheenjoysspendingtimewithherfamily.Angelacanbecontactedatabbottlearning@yahoo.com.

SandraPicklesimerAldrich,presidentandCEOofBoldWords,Inc.inColoradoSprings,isapopularspeakerwhowrapsinsight,humorandencouragementaroundlife’sseriousissues.Sheistheauthororco-authorofeighteenbooksandcontributortotwodozenmore.ContactheratBoldWords@aol.com.

SarahBaird(ArizonaSTOY)receivedherBAin1999andherMAin2002fromNorthernArizonaUniversity.SheisaNationalBoardCertifiedTeacherandwasawardedanhonorarydoctoratein2009fromNorthernArizonaUniversity.Shetaught1stgradeinPhoenixforsixyearsandcurrentlyworksasaK-5MathCoach.

SteveBarrlivesinthemountainsofNorthCarolina.Hiscartoonsappearinawidevarietyofmagazinesandnewspapers,andheisalsotheauthorandillustratorofthe1-2-3Draw seriesofartinstructionbooksforchildren.Inhissparetime,helikestodrawandcollectminerals.

AmyBenoitgraduatedfromWorcesterStateCollegein1988withaBachelorofScienceinElementaryEducation.ShewaschosenWorcesterTelegram’s2001TeacheroftheYear.Amyenjoys teaching third grade, writing stories for children, vacationing on Cape Cod andspendingtimewithherhusbandandfamily.

AftergraduatingfromWilliamsCollegein1973,“Bing”Binghamworkedinthemusicandtelevision industries,eventually turning towritingfull-time.Hiscredits includeTVspecialsforA&EandthescreenplayfortheEmmy-nominatedfilm,FaithofMyFathers.HeteachesataprivateschoolinKent,Connecticut.

JanBonotaughtpublicschoolforthirtyyearsontheLongBeachpeninsulainthesouthwestcornerofWashingtonState.Shenowworksasalifecoach,writingcoach,writingworkshopinstructor, Law of Attraction presenter and freelance writer. Check out her blog at:www.daybreak-solutions.com/blog.

RichardsandSuzanneBoycehavebeenblessedtoworkwithamazingstudents,faculty,andbeginning teachers throughout Missouri. They enjoy traveling to visit family—especiallytheirtwoadultchildren.Pleasecontactthemviae-mailatricksboyce@sbcglobal.net.

IlahBreendelightsinteachingfourthgradeinwarmandsunnyFlorida.Afterspendingmanyyears in the cool, foggy lands of Humboldt County, California, she celebrates life by

spendingtimewithherfamily,playingwithgrandchildren,writing,gardening,andpainting.

KenanBresnan is a professional salesman with four grown children who enjoys writingstories.Originallyhisstorieswereinspiredbyhischildrengrowingup,butthentheydidandmovedaway.OftenKenan’sinspirationscomefromhiswife,butdailylifealwaysseemstopresentnewideasandconcepts.

Jean Brody has a BS in Journalism and Education plus she has done graduate work inAnimal Behavior. She has fifteen published Chicken Soup for the Soul stories. Jean haswritten aweekly newspaper column for twenty years plus amagazine columnmonthly foreighteenyears.SheliveswithherhusbandGeneandtheiranimalfriends.

SallyJ.Broughton(MontanaSTOY)hasaBachelorofScience,withhighesthonors,fromthe University of Illinois and Masters of Education from Montana State University. Shereceived theAmericanCivicEducationTeacherAward2008.She teaches languageartsandsocialstudiesinaruralmiddleschool.

CherylY.Brundage earned a BA (creativewriting) fromOberlin College and aMaster ’s(Spanish)fromtheUniversityofHouston.ShetaughtEnglishinSpainfrom1991-1998andcurrentlyteachesSpanishinHouston,TX.ShehaspublishedessaysintheHoustonChronicleandfictioninSpanishinTheBarcelonaReview.

Luajean N. Bryan (Tennessee STOY) was alsoUSA Today’s All-USA Teacher 2006. SheteachesCalculusandPreCalculus,usingproject-basedlearningtomakemathreal,fromhotair balloon flights to overnight cavern expeditions. She co-authored the 2011 edition ofGlencoePreCalculus.E-mailheratlbryan@bradleyschools.org.

BrookeM.BusinskyreceivedherBachelorofArtsinEnglish,withhonors,andaMasterofEducation fromTowsonUniversity.She taughthigh schoolEnglishandJournalism for sixyears.

CindyCouchman(KansasSTOY)isaNationalBoardCertifiedinstructorinhernineteenthyearof teachinghighschoolmathematics inKansas.She receivedherBS inEducationandMastersofScienceinAdministrationfromKansasStateUniversity.Cindylovestogolf,isaCubScoutleader,runstriathlons,andservesonthechurchEducationCommittee.

Bebi Davis (Hawaii STOY) received her Bachelor and Master of Education from theUniversityofHawaiiandispursuingaPhD.Sheisaphysicsandchemistry teacher,amathand biology college instructor, and 2005 Milken National Educator. Bebi loves to helpstudentsandhangoutwithherhusbandHarry.

AmandaDodsonisawifeandmothertothree.Shehomeschoolsandisacontributingwriter

to her local newspaper,TheStokesNews, inWalnutCove,NC. She has also contributed toother Chicken Soup for the Soul books. She can be reached via e-mail atamandadod@roadrunner.com.

StephanieDoyle(VirginiaSTOY)receivedherBA,withhonors,fromRoanokeCollegein1999.SheteachessixthgradeU.S.historyandreadinginRoanoke,VA.SheisthefounderanddirectorofGirlsRisingOntoWomanhood,anon-profitmentoringorganizationforgirlsingrades 7-12. Stephanie enjoys traveling, spending timewith her family, andmentoring. E-mailheratsdoyle@rcps.info.

Beth Ekre (North Dakota STOY) teaches 6th graders in Fargo, ND. Beth enjoysphotography, family time at their Minnesota cabin, coaching track, and participating inservice-learning projects with her students. She can be reached via e-mail atBeth_Ekre@fargo.k12.nd.us.

SusanElliott (ColoradoSTOY) is an award-winning teacher of studentswho are deaf orhard of hearing. She also is aNationalBoardCertifiedTeacher.As a scholar-practitioner,SusaniscurrentlyworkingtowardherPh.D.inEducationwithWaldenUniversity.E-mailheratsjsuz@aol.com.

MalindaDunlapFillingim lovedteachingatHaliwa-SaponiTribalSchoolinNCandwishesshehadneverleft.ARome,GAresident,sheworksasahospicechaplainbutlongstoreturntotheclassroom.Sheandherhusbandsingandtellstoriestowhomeverwilllisten.Contactherviae-mailatfillingim@comcast.net.

Deb Fogg (New Hampshire STOY) has spent the last ten years teaching seventh gradeLanguage Arts in New Hampshire. She loves spending time with her family: Steve, Sara,John,Becca,Mike,andaGoldenRetriever,Willy.Sheenjoyswriting,cookingandlisteningtotheloonsonMaidstoneLake.Pleasee-mailheratdfogg@sau36.org.

EdneyL.Freeman(VirginIslandsSTOY)receivedhisBAfromCityCollegeofNewYorkin1977andhisMSTfromRochesterInstituteofTechnology-SchoolforAmericanCraftsin1995. He teaches high school ceramics, sculpture, and calligraphy in St Thomas, VI. Heenjoys traveling, languages (Spanish and Arabic), creating his unique sculptural ceramicsworks,swimmingandmartialarts.

SharonGallagher-Fishbaugh(UtahSTOY)receivedherBA,withhonors,andanMAfromNationalUniversity. She is also aNationalBoardCertifiedTeacher. Sharon has taught forthirty-one years and currently teaches second grade. She enjoys traveling, reading, andspendingtimewithherfamilyanddogs!

JulieMellottGeorgegraduatedmagnacumlaudefromPennStateAltoonawithaBachelor

of Arts degree in English. She works as an assistant director of marketing for collegeadmissioninBoston.Julieenjoysreading,writingandtravelingwithhernewhusband.

Karen Gill (Kentucky STOY) teaches physics at Henry Clay High School in Lexington,Kentucky. Her husband, Scot Gill, also an award-winning teacher, teaches physics at TatesCreekHighSchoolinLexington.TheyenjoytravelingandkayakingandareexpectingtheirfirstchildinJanuary2010.

ChristineGleason(TexasSTOY)receivedherBachelorofArtsandMaster ’sdegreesfromtheUniversityofTexasatElPaso.SheteachesEnglish4,AdvancedPlacementEnglish4andDualCreditatFabensHighSchoolinFabens,Texas.Shehasawonderfulhusbandandafour-year-oldsonwhoinspirehertremendously.

MuraliGopal(AmericanSamoaSTOY)wasbornandraisedinIndiaandnowliveswithhisfamily inAmericanSamoa,where he teaches atLeoneHighSchool.Murali likesworkingwithstudentstoengageinscienceresearchworksinsideandoutsidetheclassroom,reading,travelling,andspendingtimewithfamilyandfriends.E-mailhimatmurligopal@yahoo.com.

DorothyGoffGoulet(DeptofDefenseEducationActivitySTOY),anAirForcespouse,livesinGermanywheresheteachesFrenchandSocialStudiesatRamsteinHighSchoolattheU.S.AirBase.SheispursuingadoctoraldegreeinEducationalLeadership.Sheenjoystravel,cooking, and art projects. She is a native of Ruston, Louisiana. Contact her via e-mail atDorothy.Goulet@yahoo.com.

Tommie AnnGrinnell received her Bachelor ’s degree from Texas A&M University. Shespentthirtyyearsineducationasanelementaryteacherandlibrarian.Tommieisnowretiredandpursuingacareerasawriter.ShelivesinTyler,Texas.

Jennifer A. Haberling (Michigan STOY) has been blessed to teach high schoolers andmiddleschoolersinEnglishclassesforthelastsixteenyears.JenliveswithherhusbandTim,hersonDevin,andherdaughterAli.Sheenjoyscamping,cooking,creatingandreading.

JennaHallman(SouthCarolinaSTOY)receivedherBachelor ’sdegreefromtheUniversityof SC and her Master ’s from Clemson University. She taught second grade at CalhounAcademyoftheArts.Jennahasawonderfulhusbandandtwofantasticsons.

PatrickHardin is a cartoonist with degrees in Philosophy and Psychology. He currentlyenjoys thehalcyonsettingsofhishome town—Flint,Michigan.Hemaybecontactedviae-mailatphardin357@aol.com.

TaniaHarman (IndianaSTOY) received herBA fromBethelCollege,Mishawaka, IN, in1985, an MS from Indiana University in 1996, and is currently pursuing an EdD in

EducationalLeadershipfromWaldenUniversity.Shehasbeenteachingfortwenty-twoyearsinSouthBendCommunitySchoolCorporationwhere she isemployedasaNewLanguageTeacher.

LindaHeffner (IowaSTOY) completed undergraduate studies at BriarCliffUniversity inSiouxCity,IA.ShereceivedherMastersinAdministrationfromWayneStateCollege.Lindabegan teaching in 1984 atEverettElementarySchool inSiouxCity, IA.She still teaches atEveretttoday.Lindaenjoyshiking,athletics,andtimewithfamily.

Chantelle Herchenhahn (Mississippi STOY), NBCT in Adolescent Science, has taughtChemistry, Physics and Biology at Forest High School for twenty years. A nativeMississippian, she holds a BS degree from Tarleton State University and an MS fromUniversityofSouthernMississippi.Shehasoneadoptedson,DeVardrickCarter.

RoyHudson(AlabamaSTOY) is theDirectorofTheatre for the acclaimedShadesValleyTheatreAcademyinBirmingham,Alabama.HisplayshavebeenproducedallovertheworldincludingOff-Broadwayand inEdinburgh,Scotland.Hecreditshiswife,Alane, forgivinghimthecouragetoteach.Hise-mailisrhudson@jefcoed.com.

MaryLu Hutchins (West Virginia STOY) carries on a family tradition of excellence inpublic education. Her grandfather, grandmother, and mother experienced distinguishedteaching careers. As a family, they accrued 125 years of combined educational service.Hutchins,afirstgradeteacherandPhiDeltaKappahonoree,isadoctoralcandidateatWestVirginiaUniversity.

After teaching for nineteen years,Robbie Iobst put her chalk away to become a full-timewriter/speaker.ShelivesinCentennial,ColoradowithherhusbandJohn,sonNoahanddogScooby. E-mail Robbie at robbieiobst@hotmail.com or check out her blog atrobbieiobst.blogspot.com.

SteveJohnson(NevadaSTOY)wasawardedaBachelorofSciencedegree in1986,andaMasters of Science in 1998. Steve teaches chemistry at Churchill County High School inFallon,NV.He has received the PresidentialAward ofExcellence in ScienceTeaching andNational Board Certification in 2003. Steve likes hiking, musical theater, art, and targetshooting.

Susan Johnson (Washington STOY) teaches high school English Language Arts in theCascadeMountains.SheisalsoaCo-DirectoroftheCentralWashingtonWritingProject.Herloveoflanguageandliteracydrivesherteachingaswellasherwriting.

RonaldW.Kaiser,Jr.receivedhisMaster ’sdegreeinEnglishLiteraturefromtheUniversityofNewHampshire.HelivesandteachesEnglishinNewHampshire’sLakesRegion.Writing

stories ishis secondpassion,next tohis radiantwife.And thenofcourse therearehis twoterriers.

Alex Kajitani (California STOY) is known around the country as “The Rappin’Mathematician.” He also speaks nationally about “Making Math Cool!” Visitwww.MathRaps.comtocheckouthismusicandvideos!

PaulKarrerhasbeenpublishedintheSanFranciscoChronicle,ChristianScienceMonitor,andreadshisstoriesregularlyonNPRaffiliateradiostationKUSPinSantaCruz,California.He teaches in central California. To contact him look at his writer ’s website:www.paulhkarrer.com.

Alice L. King (Wyoming STOY) has a degree in Speech Communication and SecondaryEducationfromAugustanaCollege,andaMaster ’s fromLesleyUniversitywitha focusonIntegratingtheArts.Sheteacheshighschoolseniors,andcoachesthespeechanddebateteam.Alice spends time travelingwithher family and reading agreat book.Please e-mail her ataking@ccsd.k12.wy.us.

PaulKuhlman (SouthDakotaSTOY) receivedhisBSdegree inBiologyEducation fromNorth Dakota State University in 1988. He also holds Master Degrees in SecondaryAdministrationandNaturalScience,bothfromtheUniversityofSouthDakota.Pleasecontacthimviae-mailatpaul.kuhlman@k12.sd.us.

SharilynnLaMayreceivedherBAinEnglishatSUNYinAlbany.Retirednow,shelivesinFlorida and writes in several genres. One of her plays recently won second place in theWriter’sDigest competition. She plans now to publish poems on teen angst, based on herobservationswhileteaching.

NBCT Jean (Brophy) Lamar (Florida STOY) received her B.A.E. and M.Ed from theUniversity of North Florida and is past-president of the Florida Council of Teachers ofEnglish.SheisteachinghighschoolEnglishandreadingwhileworkingonherdoctorate.E-mailheratjeanlamar2009@gmail.com.

Michael Lampert (Oregon STOY) teaches physics with gifted colleagues at West SalemHighinOregon.Helovesartandfindseveryexcusetoplaceitintothesciencecurriculum.Hisstudentsconstantlyamazehimwiththeirjoyforlearning.Heproudlydisplaystheirworkand photographs, also including those of his three children. E-mail him atmlampert@aol.com.

Diana Leddy (Vermont STOY) earned her MEd in 1999 from Antioch New EnglandGraduateSchool.Dianahasbeenactive inpromoting literacy throughoutVermont.Shehascoauthored several books for teachers,most recentlyWriting forUnderstanding. Please e-

mailheratkdsquest@aol.com.

JaneenLewisisafreelancewriterlivinginKentuckywithherhusbandandson.BeforehersonAndrewwasborn,shelovedlearningfromherstudentsasateacher.Lewishaspreviouslybeenpublished inChickenSoup for theSoul:PowerMoms andChicken Soup for the Soul:CountYourBlessings.

AnnaM.Lowtherispursuingwritingfull-time.Shehasbeenpublishedinseveralpaperbackfictionanthologiesandmagazines.Sheiscurrentlyworkingonahistoricalfictionnovelfortweensand twoadult fantasies.She stillworkswithchildrenasaVentureCrewLeaderandchurchmusicvolunteer.

Patricia L. Marini received her Bachelor and Masters of Science, and Sixth YearProfessionalDiplomaineducationfromSouthernConnecticutStateUniversity.SheteachesinBridgeport,Connecticut,whereshegrewup.Shebelievesbeforeyoucanteachachild,youhavetoknowhim.SheresidesinConnecticutwithherhusband.

SaraMatson taught in a variety of environments for seven years. After that, she happilyretiredfromteachingtostayhomewithherdaughtersandpursueawritingcareer.SheliveswithherfamilyinMinnesota.

Leanne Maule-Sims (Georgia STOY), now an educator in North Georgia, earned herBachelor ’s degree in English Education from Eastern Michigan University. Her Master ’sdegreeisinTechnologyandherSpecialistDegree,fromNovaSoutheasternUniversity,isinBrain-basedLearning.Sheplanstowritebooksontheartandscienceofmotivatingstudents.

DanMcCarthy(NebraskaSTOY)receivedhisBA(1975)andMSinEducation(1983)fromKearneyStateCollege.Hehasdevotedhisthirty-five-yearcareertoteachingmechanicalandarchitecturaldraftingatHastingsSeniorHighSchool.Hemethiswifeduringtheirfirstyearofteachingandtheyhavethreegrownchildren.E-mailDanatdmccarth@esu9.org.

LisaMcCaskillhasbeenteachingforthirteenyears.Eachyearisafreshstart,andtherearealways new challenges. Lisa enjoys spending time with family and friends, and wheneverthere’s a free moment, she writes stories of faith, hope, and love. Please e-mail her atmrsmccaskill@yahoo.com.

VickieMike(NewYorkSTOY)receivedherBachelorofArts,withhonors,fromBrockportStateCollege, herMaster of Education from theUniversity ofBuffalo, and herDoctor ofEducation degree from Binghamton University. She teaches Spanish in Horseheads, NewYork. Vickie enjoys public speaking, art, travel, and golf. Contact her via e-mail attmike@stny.rr.com.

CelesteM.Miller, a New York City public school teacher, is a Learning Specialist at theProfessional Performing Arts School in Manhattan. Following a corporate career, shebecame aNewYork City Teaching Fellow, teaching art to studentswith special needs andearning a Master ’s degree in Education before joining the staff of PPAS. E-mail her atCeleste17@juno.com.

DianeMMiller receivedherBachelorofGeneralStudies fromIndianaUniversity in1995.Sheworkspart-time.Dianeenjoysquilting,gaming,travelingandplayingwithherdogs.Sheiscurrentlyworkingonamystery foradultsandanadventurebook forchildren.Pleasee-mailheratdmiller2011@tampabay.rr.com.

KateLynnMisharareceivedherBachelorofScienceinJournalismfromtheUniversityofColoradoatBoulderin2008.Sheiscurrentlyworkingtowardherteachinglicense,andlooksforwardtobecominganelementaryschoolteacherinupcomingmonths.Katelovestotravel,ski,andspendtimewithfamilyandfriends.

MarthaMoorehas taughtEnglishandCreativeWriting inTexashighschools formostofher life. She is an award-winning author of three Young Adult andMiddle Grade novels:UndertheMermaidAngel,AngelsontheRoof,andMatchit.Sheenjoysinspiringotherstotelltheirownstories.

Amy(Grether)Morrison spentsixyears teachingMiddleSchoolLanguageArts inSouth-CentralLosAngeles.Workingnowasafreelancewriter,Amyliveswithherhusband,Jamie,and their three futuremiddle-schoolers in Spokane,Washington. Contact her via e-mail atamy@word-spring.com.

Anthony J. Mullen (Connecticut STOY, National TOY) received his BA, with honors,fromLongIslandUniversity,C.W.PostCollege,andaMasterofEducation,withdistinction,fromMercy College. Anthony teaches at the ARCH School, an alternative high school inConnecticut.Pleasee-mailhimatArchteacher@optonline.net.

Jeanne Muzi (New Jersey STOY) loves teaching first grade at Ben Franklin School inLawrenceville,NJ.Jeanneenjoysdrawingandreading.Shewroteandillustratedachildren’sbookcalledSam’sSkates.ShelivesinLawrencevillewithherhusbandandtwosons.

Lori Neurohr (Wisconsin STOY) received her Bachelor of Arts, with honors, fromLakeland College in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. She received her Masters of reading andlanguage arts from Cardinal Stritch University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Lori enjoysreading, traveling, golfing and working with children. Please e-mail her atslkneurohr@yahoo.com.

GloriaL.Noyes(MaineSTOY)isafifthgradeteacherinSouthernMaine.Intheclassroom

her passion is literacy instruction, teaching citizenship and making her students feel safe,valued, and precious. She is a lifelong learner and is currentlyworking on her doctorate.Please contact her via e-mail at gnoyes@me.com orhttp://wsdblog.westbrook.k12.me.us/teacheroftheyear.

DerekOlson(MinnesotaSTOY)livesandteaches6thgradeinStillwater,MN.Hereceivedhis BA from St. Olaf College and hisMA from theUniversity of St. Thomas. Derek alsoenjoys,fishing,hunting,camping,andhangingoutwithhiswonderfulwifeandchildren.Youcane-mailhimatolsonderek@stillwater.k12.mn.us.

MarkParisi’s“off themark”comic, syndicatedsince1987, isdistributedbyUnitedMedia.Mark’s humor also graces greeting cards, T-shirts, calendars, magazines, newsletters andbooks. Check out: offthemark.com. Lynn is his wife/business partner. Their daughter Jencontributeswithinspiration(asdothreecatsandonedog).

JamesEdwardPhillips(NorthernMarianaIslandsSTOY)teachesatMarianasHighSchoolonthePacificislandofSaipan.HeholdsaMasterofSciencedegree,isaPADIscubadivinginstructor,andaCPR/First-Aidinstructortrainer.

StephaniePirolivesinNewHampshirewithherhusbandandthreecats.SheisoneofKingFeatures’ “Six Chix” (appearing Saturdays). Her single panel, “Fair Game,” appears innewspapers and on stephaniepiro.com. She is also an illustrator, a gift designer for hercompany Strip T’s and a part-time librarian. Contact her via e-mail atstephaniepiro@gmail.com.

KayConnerPliszkahasreceivednumerousschoolandcommunityawardsforherworkwithteens. Now retired, she is a frequent contributor to Chicken Soup for the Soul. Also, as amotivationalspeaker,Kaysharesherhumorous,turbulentandinspirationalexperiencesfromteaching.Shemaybereachedviae-mailatkmpliskza@comcast.net.

SherryPoff teacheshighschoolEnglish inChattanooga,Tennessee.Shewritesnon-fictionandpoetry.Favoritetopicsarefamily,faith,theoutdoors,and—ofcourse—teaching.

Tim Ramsey has been an educator since 1983. He currently is a school administrator atGarden Lakes School in Arizona. Writing allows him to share his love for children andteachingwithothers.Timliveswithhiswife,daughterandsevencatsinAvondale,Arizona.Pleasecontacthimviae-mailattramsey@q.com.

Adrienne C. Reynolds was a teacher for twenty-two years and now works for BrowardCounty Schools as a Testing Specialist. Adrienne enjoys being with her family andvolunteering.Oneofthegoalsonher“bucketlist”istowriteabookthatwillinspireothersforgenerationstocome.Pleasee-mailheratclasywritr@bellsouth.net.

CindiRigsbee(NorthCarolinaSTOY),anEnglishLanguageArtsteacher,currentlyservesasaLiteracyCoachandBeginningTeacherDistrictMentorinOrangeCountySchools,NC.ANationalBoardCertifiedTeacher,CindiwasafinalistforNationalTeacheroftheYear.Sheenjoys writing poetry and blogging, and her book, Finding Mrs. Warnecke, published byJossey-Bass,highlightsherjourneyasateacher.

JaydeRossireceivedherBachelorofSciencedegreeinHumanServices,withhonors,fromCalifornia State University, Fullerton in 2008. She works for the Orangewood Children’sFoundation,anorganizationthatfocusesontheongoingneedsofchildreninthefostercaresystem.

GaryRubinsteinhasbeenteachingmath, trainingnewteachers,andwritingabout teachingsince1991.Hisfirstbook,ReluctantDisciplinarian,whereashortenedversionofthisstoryfirst appeared,was published in 1999 byCottonwood Press, Inc.His second book,BeyondSurvival,willbepublishedin2010.Youcane-mailhimatgarymrubinstein@gmail.com.

MarciaRudoff is amemoirwriting teacher andnewspaper columnist in her hometownofBainbridgeIsland,Washington.Afreelancewriter,herstorieshaveappearedinanthologies,magazines andnewspapers.Personal interests include quality timewith family and friends,travel,baseballandchocolate.

LisaMillerRychel earned aBA from theUniversity ofNorth Florida. She teachesmiddleschoolscienceinTampa.Lisa isalsoasilversmith,andenjoysracinghersailboatwithherfamily. Her heart remains close to her hometown,Wadsworth, Ohio. Please e-mail her atlrychel@tampabay.rr.com.

MichaelJordanSegal,whodefiedalloddsafterbeingshotinthehead,isahusband,father,social worker, author (including a CD/Download of twelve stories entitled Possible) andinspirationalspeaker.He’shadmanystoriespublished inChickenSoupfor theSoulbooks.TocontactMikeortoorderhisCD,pleasevisitwww.InspirationByMike.com.

RobinSly(IdahoSTOY)isafirstgradeteacherinBoise,Idaho.ShereceivedherBachelorofArts andMaster ’s degree fromBoise StateUniversity. She is currentlyworking on herDoctorate in Teacher Leadership. She enjoys reading, traveling and spending time withfamily.

Linda A. Smerge (Illinois STOY) received her BS in Education, MS in Early ChildhoodEducation, and JD from Northern Illinois University. Currently, she is working on anadvanceddegree inadministration.Shehas taughtpre-kindergarten through12thgradeandenjoysallgradelevelsduetotherelationshipsshebuildswithherstudents.

SarahSmiley is a syndicated columnist, author andmilitarywife.Her new book, I’m Just

Saying…,isacollectionofcolumnsaboutbeingawifeandmother.LearnmoreaboutSarahatwww.SarahSmiley.com.

RebeccaSnyder(PennsylvaniaSTOY)teachesEnglishandservesasSeniorHighLanguageArtsDepartmentHeadatGreaterLatrobeSeniorHighSchoolinsouthwesternPennsylvania.A 1996 graduate of Saint Vincent College, she believes that a teacher ’s best tools arecreativity,passion,andenthusiasm.

HeatherSparks(OklahomaSTOY)receivedherBSandMasterofEducation,withhonors,fromOklahomaCityUniversityin1995.SheteachessixthandeighthgradersatTaftMiddleSchool in Oklahoma City. Heather is the 2008 recipient of the Presidential Award forExcellenceinMathematicsTeaching.Visitherwebsite:www.hisparks.com.

DianeStarkisateacher,awifeandmotheroffive,andawriter.Shelovestowriteabouttheimportantthingsinlife:herfamilyandherfaith.Herfirstbook,Teacher’sDevotionstoGo,wasreleasedlastfall.ShecanbereachedatDianeStark19@yahoo.com.

NancyHamiltonSturmhastaughthighschoolEnglishinWichita,KSfortwenty-oneyears.ShealsohelpsfacilitatetheSouthCentralKansasWritingProjectatWichitaStateUniversity.Nancyhaspublishedseveraldevotionalarticlesandiscurrentlywritingabookofscripturalmeditations.PleasecontactNancyatsconanstuwich@aol.com.

MarkD.Teesdale(DelawareSTOY),agraduateofWestChesterUniversityandWilmingtonUniversity, teaches 4th and 5th grade general music and chorus at Lake Forest CentralElementarySchoolinFelton,DE.MarkalsoisaYaleDistinguishedMusicEducator.Pleasecontacthimatmdteesdale@lf.k12.de.us.

QuyenThai moved to the United States from Australia in February 2008. Quyen teacheselementary school inWashington. She enjoys reading, being outdoors, seeing friends andtraveling. She plans to write young adult and middle grade novels. Please e-mail her atquyen1979@hotmail.com.

WillThomas(MarylandSTOY)receivedhisBAinSocialStudies-EducationfromtheStateUniversityofNewYorkatAlbanyandhisMaster ’sfromBowieStateUniversity.WillteachesAP Government in Prince George’s County, MD. He coaches the Mock Trial Team andsponsorstheStockMarket/InvestmentClubatDr.HenryA.WiseJr.HighSchool.

DeborahHohnTonguis(LouisianaSTOY)hasaBAfromNichollsStateUniversityandaMaster ’sinStudentDevelopmentfromAzusaPacificUniversity.SheteachesSocialStudiesatMandevilleHighinSouthernLouisianaandenjoysfamily,LSUbaseball,Saintsfootballandpainting.Sheplanstoteachundergraduateeducationstudents.E-mail:dtonguis@yahoo.com.

AdrienneTownsendreceivedherBAinSecondarySocialStudiesandMasterofEducationinSecondaryfromTexasChristianUniversityin2007.SheteacheshighschoolU.S.HistoryandWorldGeography in Texas.Adrienne enjoys traveling abroad, reading, and spending timewithherfamily.Pleasee-mailheratAdrienne.L.Townsend@gmail.com.

Blythe Turner (New Mexico STOY) received her Bachelor of Education and Master ofEducationatEasternNewMexicoUniversity.SheisasecondgradebilingualteacherandiscurrentlyadoctoralstudentintheLanguage,LiteracyandSocio-CulturalStudiesdepartmentattheUniversityofNewMexico.

SusanWaggener(ArkansasSTOY)receivedherBachelorofBusinessAdministrationfromtheUniversityofMemphis,1979,summacumlaude,andherBachelorofArtsinEducationandMathematics fromArkansas State University, 1980. She currently teaches geometry atWestMemphisSeniorHighSchool.

BarbaraWalton-Faria(RhodeIslandSTOY) teachesscienceatThompsonMiddleSchoolinNewport,RI.ShehasaBSinNaturalResourcesandanMSinSecondaryEducationfromthe University of Rhode Island. When not teaching she can be found out on the waterkayaking,snorkeling,orphotographingwildlife.

George A. Watson (Massachusetts STOY) received his BA in Spanish from BostonUniversity and his MA in Spanish from Middlebury College. He teaches Spanish and isDepartmentHeadofForeignLanguages atWalpoleHighSchool inMassachusetts.Georgeenjoystraveling,photography,bicyclingandcooking.HeandhiswifeJanethavetwosons.

RickWeber has a BA in Journalism from Penn State. He has won the Casey Medal forMeritorious Journalism, been honored twice by the AP Sports Editors and contributed toChicken Soup for the Soul: The Golf Book. His first book, Pink Lips and Fingertips, wasreleasedin2009.E-mailhimatwebodespo@yahoo.com.

DeborahWickerham(OhioSTOY)hasbeenateacherforthirty-threeyears.ShegraduatedfromBowlingGreenStateUniversityandtheUniversityofFindlay.Teachingisnotajob,butalove.AnnieSullivan,HelenKeller ’steacher,taughtDebdedicationandcaringforchildren.Deb loves history, science, reading and traveling. E-mail her atdwickerham@findlaycityschools.org.

BobWilliams(AlaskaSTOY)believes thatbeinga teacher is thebest job in theworld.Heholds degrees in Petroleum Engineering, Mathematics Education, and EducationalLeadership.Heisanindependentspeaker,educationaltrainer,andsecondarymathteacher.HecanbecontactedatBob.Williams@matsuk12.us.

MargaretWilliams(MissouriSTOY)(BS,MAT),arecentlyretiredthirty-eight-yearteacher,

workedintwoSt.LouispublichighschoolsandUniversityCityHighSchool.Shecontinuesto coach the award-winning U-City Mock Trial Teams and is active with West Side MBChurch, Delta Sigma Theta, and her grandchildren. Contact her atmarwilliams@sbcglobal.net.

StephanieScharagaWinnickisaretiredelementaryschoolteacherfromLongIsland,NewYork.Herloveofchildrenmotivateshertocontinuein thefieldasasubstitute teacher.Herpassion for reading is evident in book discussion groups. Please e-mail her atwinnick37@optonline.net.

KimberlyWorthy(DistrictofColumbiaSTOY)isanadvocateforeducationalexcellenceinurbanschools,andhasservedasamiddleschoolsocialstudiesandlanguageartsteacheranda curriculum developer. She uses cultural foundations of teaching and a cross-curricularapproach. E-mail her at dc2009toy@gmail.com or visitdctoy2009classroombeyond.shutterfly.com.

D.B.Zane has amultiple-subject credential aswell as a single-subject credential in socialstudies. She currentlyworks for theMiddle School ParliamentaryDebate Program. In hersparetime,sheenjoysreadingandwriting.

MeetOurAuthors

JackCanfieldistheco-creatoroftheChickenSoupfortheSoulseries,whichTimemagazinehas called “the publishing phenomenon of the decade.” Jack is also the co-author ofmanyotherbestsellingbooks.

JackistheCEOoftheCanfieldTrainingGroupinSantaBarbara,California,andfounderof the Foundation for Self-Esteem in Culver City, California. He has conducted intensivepersonalandprofessionaldevelopmentseminarsontheprinciplesofsuccessformorethanamillionpeople in twenty-three countries, has spoken tohundredsof thousandsofpeople atmore than 1,000 corporations, universities, professional conferences and conventions, andhasbeenseenbymillionsmoreonnationaltelevisionshows.

Jack has received many awards and honors, including three honorary doctorates and aGuinnessWorldRecordsCertificate forhavingsevenbooksfromtheChickenSoup for theSoulseriesappearingontheNewYorkTimesbestsellerlistonMay24,1998.

YoucanreachJackatwww.jackcanfield.com.

Mark Victor Hansen is the co-founder of Chicken Soup for the Soul, along with JackCanfield. He is a sought-after keynote speaker, bestselling author, and marketing maven.Mark’s powerful messages of possibility, opportunity, and action have created powerfulchangeinthousandsoforganizationsandmillionsofindividualsworldwide.

MarkisaprolificwriterwithmanybestsellingbooksinadditiontotheChickenSoupfortheSoulseries.Markhashadaprofoundinfluenceinthefieldofhumanpotentialthroughhislibraryofaudios,videos,andarticlesintheareasofbigthinking,salesachievement,wealthbuilding, publishing success, and personal and professional development. He is also thefounderoftheMEGASeminarSeries.

Mark has received numerous awards that honor his entrepreneurial spirit, philanthropicheart, and business acumen. He is a lifetimemember of theHoratioAlger Association ofDistinguishedAmericans.

YoucanreachMarkatwww.markvictorhansen.com.

AmyNewmark is thepublisherofChickenSoup for theSoul,aftera thirty-yearcareerasawriter, speaker, financial analyst, and business executive in the worlds of finance andtelecommunications. Amy is amagna cum laude graduate of Harvard College, where shemajoredinPortuguese,minoredinFrench,andtraveledextensively.Sheisalsothemotheroftwochildrenincollegeandtwogrownstepchildrenwhoarerecentcollegegraduates.

Aftera longcareerwritingbookson telecommunications,voluminous financial reports,businessplans,andcorporatepressreleases,ChickenSoupfortheSoulisabreathoffreshair for Amy. She has fallen in love with Chicken Soup for the Soul and its life-changingbooks,andreallyenjoysputtingthesebookstogetherforChickenSoup’swonderfulreaders.Shehasco-authoredmorethantwodozenChickenSoupfortheSoulbooks.

ReachAmythroughthewebmaster@chickensoupforthesoul.com.

ThankYou!

MyheartfeltthanksgoouttoTonyMullen,whointroducedmetoallthe2009StateTeachersoftheYear,andalsotoJonQuam,whorunsthatfabulousprogramandwhowelcomedmeintothecompanyoftheseaward-winningteachers.ThiswasanincrediblyexcitingprojectforusatChickenSoupfortheSoul.Wefeltsoprivilegedtoworkwithallthe2009StateTeachersof the Year, and especially National Teacher of the Year Tony Mullen, who is creative,compassionate,caring,andcertainlyeducatesthe“wholechild”inhiscapacityastheheadofthealternativehighschoolinourtown.

Ialsoowehugethankstoallofourcontributors.Weknowthatyoupouryourheartsandsoulsintothethousandsofstoriesandpoemsthatyousharewithus,andultimatelywitheachother.Weappreciateyourwillingness toopenupyour lives tootherChickenSoup for theSoulreaders.

Wecanonlypublishasmallpercentageofthestoriesthataresubmitted,butwereadeverysingleoneandeventheonesthatdonotappearinthebookhaveaninfluenceonusandonthefinalmanuscript.

I want to thank Chicken Soup for the Soul editor Kristiana Glavin for reading thethousands of stories and poems that were submitted for this book. She helpedme narrowdownanincrediblyhighqualitygroupofsubmissions.Youteacherssureknowhowtowrite!I also want to thank D’ette Corona, our assistant publisher, who worked with the StateTeachers of the Year and all our other contributors to ensure that students’ names werechangedwhen necessary and that everyonewas happywith their final story. I alsowant tothankoureditorandwebmasterBarbaraLoMonaco,aformerteacherherself,forherexpertproofreadingassistance.

Weoweaveryspecialthankstoourcreativedirectorandbookproducer,BrianTayloratPneuma Books, for his brilliant vision for our covers and interiors. Finally, none of thiswouldbepossiblewithoutthebusinessandcreativeleadershipofourCEO,BillRouhana,andourpresident,BobJacobs.

~AmyNewmarkPublisherandEditor-in-Chief

ImprovingYourLifeEveryDay

Realpeoplesharingrealstories—forfifteenyears.Now,ChickenSoupfortheSoulhasgonebeyondthebookstoretobecomeaworldleaderinlifeimprovement.Throughbooks,movies,DVDs,onlineresourcesandotherpartnerships,webringhope,courage,inspirationandlovetohundredsofmillionsofpeoplearoundtheworld.ChickenSoupfortheSoul’swritersandreaders belong to a one-of-a-kind global community, sharing advice, support, guidance,comfort,andknowledge.

ChickenSoupfortheSoulstorieshavebeentranslatedintomorethanfortylanguagesandcanbefoundinmorethanonehundredcountries.Everyday,millionsofpeopleexperienceaChickenSoupfortheSoulstoryinabook,magazine,newspaperoronline.Asweshareourlifeexperiencesthroughthesestories,weofferhope,comfortandinspirationtooneanother.Thestories travel fromperson toperson,andfromcountry tocountry,helping to improveliveseverywhere.

SharewithUs

WeallhavehadChickenSoupfortheSoulmomentsinourlives.Ifyouwouldliketoshareyour storyorpoemwithmillionsofpeople around theworld,go to chickensoup.com andclick on “Submit Your Story.” You may be able to help another reader, and become apublishedauthoratthesametime.Someofourpastcontributorshavelaunchedwritingandspeakingcareersfromthepublicationoftheirstoriesinourbooks!

Our submission volume has been increasing steadily—the quality and quantity of yoursubmissionshasbeenfabulous.Weonlyacceptstorysubmissionsviaourwebsite.Theyarenolongeracceptedviamailorfax.

To contact us regarding other matters, please send us an e-mail throughwebmaster@chickensoupforthesoul.com,orfaxorwriteusat:

ChickenSoupfortheSoulP.O.Box700

CosCob,CT06807-0700Fax:203-861-7194

OnemorenotefromyourfriendsatChickenSoupfortheSoul:Occasionally,wereceiveanunsolicited book manuscript from one of our readers, and we would like to respectfullyinformyouthatwedonotacceptunsolicitedmanuscriptsandwemustdiscardtheonesthatappear.