S.S.S.S. - In the classroom

In an earlier blog post, I talked about my opinion of all advice:

 S.S.S.S. - Some Things that work for Some People Some of the Time and Some Reasons why.

I love being a teacher.  I truly cannot imagine work that would make me happier or more fulfilled.
The blessing and challenge about my job is that, when I am in the classroom, I am on my own.  I have the freedom and responsibility to create the best possible learning environment for my students.  

I still have moments where I stare at my desk five minutes before class searching for that key - phrase, activity, worksheet, graph - that will unlock the students' understanding of this particular concept.  

(I should probably mention here that I have been teaching for 15 years.)

Tenure-track teachers are now required to write a teaching philosophy at my college.  I have never been required to do that, and I am quite intimidated at the thought.  

Teaching philosophy?  

The smart-aleck Kentucky girl in me quips "How about...Learn'em real good?!?"

A quick Google search leads me to several sites that talk about addressing the needs of my students and department...which sounds really good.  BUT...don't those needs change?  From class to class?  From year to year?  From student to student?  I just cannot fathom one philosophy statement that would serve for me in all situations.

I don't know if I can articulate everything I want to accomplish inside my classroom throughout every semester, every class, for every student.  Maybe that comes from not really being able to articulate what I feel my role always is.

Am I the "guide on the side"?  Am I an academic personal trainer?  Am I a grader, tutor, cheerleader, counselor, bureaucrat, really good talker?  In any given semester, I feel that I match all of those descriptions at one time or another.  Which one is the main one?  What should I be reaching for most of the time?  I just don't know.

Sometimes I feel that lecturing is best (there, I said it).  Sometimes I feel that hands on discovery works well.  Sometimes I feel that all they need is to try these problems next to another student and talk them out.  Sometimes a rallying speech around "you can do it!" works wonders.  Sometimes a pleading "For goodness sake, please think!" gets us through a rough patch.

The real difficulty is that to do my job well (I think), I have to make everyone uncomfortable.  My students need to struggle a bit to hone a skill for their academic toolbelts.  I need to stretch my comfort zone to keep from sounding stale.  The college needs to offer professional and technical support, which requires money, time and space (which we don't always have).

It helps to talk to my fellow teachers...all of the different viewpoints of what exactly we should be doing in there are SO very interesting and very diverse.  The conversations highlight that teaching is a very personal activity for all of us.  We all have our own visions (SSSS).  And those ideas can change and evolve as we get more experience.

A teaching philosophy whose themes are "learn'em real good" and "make everyone uncomfortable" might not get published in a journal, or be well-accepted by my dean, but it is all I have got right now.

If I were better at writing maybe I could make it sound better?  ;)

Words and Phrases That Hurt, part I

I was raised to treasure the idea of free speech.  My mother was a product of the 60s, and I am most certainly a product of my mother.  She detested the idea of banning a book, no matter how disturbing.  The rule in our family was that I could read any book in the house, as long as I discussed it with her.

(As an aside:  When I was nine I asked her what the word irony meant.  Normally, she would have made me look it up in the dictionary.  This time, she went to the shelf to get a book, and insisted I read A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift.) J

I write all of this as an introduction because I want you to understand that my intention is not to ban words or dictate feelings.  I merely want to open up a conversation about how the word retarded makes me feel.

My son is six years old, and he has some fairly invisible disabilities.  After about 30 seconds of talking with him, however, anyone over the age of four could see that he is severely speech delayed.  I have every confidence that he is treated with kindness and respect by every child and adult at his school.  My concern is NOT about what names people call him to his face right now.

Many years ago, I forwarded an email with the word “retard” as a joke.  That was before I was a mother.  I was wrong.  A colleague gently tried to tell me I was wrong, and I could not hear her.  It was not a shining moment for me as a human being, and I am not proud of it.  Although this email was not directed toward a specific person; although I was not pointing and laughing at someone else, it was (and is) unkind to have that word in my vocabulary.

For those who do not have a developmentally delayed loved one, I think it is difficult to empathize with us.  It is difficult to understand how uncomfortable this word might make us.  It is easy to think (as I once thought) that this word does not inflict pain if it is not aimed toward a person. 

Lately, here are a couple of contexts that I have heard this word from thoughtful, caring people:

Fellow grocery shopper:  I was trying to finish that report, but my computer started acting retarded.
College student: Crap, I missed that negative sign.  I am so retarded!
It seems that some people feel that this word is ok as long as there are no names called at people.

They were NOT pointing at my son and laughing. 
They are NOT mean people. 
That word was NOT meant to hurt anyone.
BUT…

·        In that moment, that word cuts me emotionally.  It is a small cut, but it is a cut based on the knowledge that “retarded” is exactly what some people would objectively call my sweet, amazing boy.

·        In that moment, I recognize that the word “retarded” is not dead.  Every time I see how easily someone uses it in everyday language, I fear for the day that he will face children in a schoolyard who easily aim it at him.

·        In that moment, I am hit again with the realization that some people will think my child is less than because he has challenges.  I face again that most people think “retarded” is a thing to be feared and avoided. 

·        For some, it represents things not working or mistakes in thinking.  It represents viewing of Life as a crazy race in which my kiddo cannot keep up.

Again, it is not my intention to police words.  I am not offended when people use it in my presence. 

But it hurts a little…every time.