.An authentic educator has an innate desire to convey the sense of curiosity and wonder about our world which sparks a child to seek knowledge. Part personality type, part leadership ability, part kindness, the role of teacher is touted as noble, honorable, complex, and demanding. Personality type, I believe, has an enormous impact on the ability of a teacher to reach his or her young charges. I look at the outstanding educators I call my colleagues, and see far more "Type A" personalities than not. Each wants success in the classroom and is willing to go to great lengths to attain that unique bond with students that creates an atmosphere of engagement. While their motivations are varied, the intended outcome is the same.
I have ridiculously high expectations for myself. Borne of a need to not let my students down, I seek to reach each of them, helping them to see what they are capable of. I walk a fine line of accepting this truth: Rabbi Tarfon said: "It is not your responsibility to finish the work [of perfecting the world], but you are not free to desist from it either" Pirkei Avot (2:16). While this bit of wisdom is meant to apply to repairing the world (tikkun olam), I do see this directive in my everyday experiences as a teacher.
Much has been written and proven about a middle school child's need to find a champion/mentor/VIP outside of the family unit. I firmly believe that finding an adult connection as the adolescent moves to awareness of self-identity is critical to healthy development. I am often surprised by the relationships that develop. Many times,I think I recognize a student with whom I expect to "click," only to find that I was not what that child needed. It is important for me, for my self-preservation, to consciously acknowledge that this is okay. I cannot, should not, be the champion of every student who walks though my door. Despite my best efforts to give students an incredible learning experience and safe place for self-expression, some students have needs I simply cannot provide. At those times, I remember:
This is okay. It does not mean I am a failure. It means someone ELSE has what that child needs right now. This is okay.
Repeat until the message sinks in.
I have a tendency to think I am the one doing something wrong when I see a student continuing to struggle or refuse to reach his or her potential. The truth is that, sometimes, absolutely nothing I can do would make a difference. Rather than work harder than I already do to try and help that student turn the corner, perhaps I need to let the experience do the job. At those moments, I seek to find the balance between acknowledging the short amount of time I have to make a difference, and the understanding that life is a journey - both for the student and for me. I am my own harshest critic. Keeping the reality of "It takes a village to raise a child" in the forefront of my thoughts will keep ME grounded in reality for all of my students.
May it be a good year for each of us.
I have ridiculously high expectations for myself. Borne of a need to not let my students down, I seek to reach each of them, helping them to see what they are capable of. I walk a fine line of accepting this truth: Rabbi Tarfon said: "It is not your responsibility to finish the work [of perfecting the world], but you are not free to desist from it either" Pirkei Avot (2:16). While this bit of wisdom is meant to apply to repairing the world (tikkun olam), I do see this directive in my everyday experiences as a teacher.
Much has been written and proven about a middle school child's need to find a champion/mentor/VIP outside of the family unit. I firmly believe that finding an adult connection as the adolescent moves to awareness of self-identity is critical to healthy development. I am often surprised by the relationships that develop. Many times,I think I recognize a student with whom I expect to "click," only to find that I was not what that child needed. It is important for me, for my self-preservation, to consciously acknowledge that this is okay. I cannot, should not, be the champion of every student who walks though my door. Despite my best efforts to give students an incredible learning experience and safe place for self-expression, some students have needs I simply cannot provide. At those times, I remember:
This is okay. It does not mean I am a failure. It means someone ELSE has what that child needs right now. This is okay.
Repeat until the message sinks in.
I have a tendency to think I am the one doing something wrong when I see a student continuing to struggle or refuse to reach his or her potential. The truth is that, sometimes, absolutely nothing I can do would make a difference. Rather than work harder than I already do to try and help that student turn the corner, perhaps I need to let the experience do the job. At those moments, I seek to find the balance between acknowledging the short amount of time I have to make a difference, and the understanding that life is a journey - both for the student and for me. I am my own harshest critic. Keeping the reality of "It takes a village to raise a child" in the forefront of my thoughts will keep ME grounded in reality for all of my students.
May it be a good year for each of us.