Diane Albanese’s Musings

Through a Teacher’s Eyes

Aired Feb 2008

Teachers are the day in and day out managers of students. We greet them in the morning and wish them well as they depart at the end of the day. We see them in all kinds of weather, all kinds of moods and can deal with all of the various problems that come to the surface in the context of the classroom.

After all, teachers have to get students to the point where they are receptive to learning before anything can be taught. You can’t ignore the little person in the corner who is angry or the one who comes to class with eyes full of tears.

Teachers are human thermometers: taking the emotional temperature of each student on a daily basis. We must analyze the probability that a student will be able to have a good day in the classroom based on their expressions, body language, tone of voice and speech. They don’t teach you this stuff in teacher training. I have never had a course on reading students, but it is essential that we do it everyday in order to get on with the two most important aspects of the day – teaching and learning.

Teachers also have to understand relationships. They need to know who is friends with whom, how many weekends they spend at each other’s homes, where they live, what they like to do with their free time. For middle schoolers it is wise to learn about their special interests, skating boarding, cheerleading, chess, go cart racing, surfing, karate, ballet, or videogames. Do they get on-line to chat, own a cell phone and like to post pictures on My Space? After school, do they arrive home to an empty house or take care of an elderly relative? Do they like to go to the movies or ride horses? What is their biggest annoyance (usually a little brother or sister)

Knowing all of this takes time. To build a relationship with a student is a gradual yet necessary process. You see, students begin to trust their teachers as reliable constant factors in their lives. They depend on teachers to be there when they have a problem because often times their world is troubled. They may live with an over burdened single parent, be a part of a violent home life or just be neglected. Teachers see so much of the underbelly of the world. We see so much suffering in the eyes of a child. We cannot always put it into words, but the emotions and the hurt is there. We try to lighten their load by being a constant, reliable factor in their lives. We talk with them, give them compliments and listen when they just want to talk.

Teachers are the frontline therapists who help students cope and deal. We model appropriate, thoughtful behavior and hope to get some back in return. The best part of my teaching day may just be when a student who has been troubled in the past enters ymy classroom, smiles at me and says “Good Morning Mrs. Albanese, how are you today?”

Eddie

Spring 2008

In the beginning of this school year I had a student who was absolutely obstinate. It didn’t matter what I would say or do, he wanted the opposite. He came to class every day with a bad attitude and he and I clashed verbally many times. I was thinking that I really could help him raise his reading and writing scores if I could only find some way to read him.

But there he was day after day, with his head down on his desk and feigning sleep. I would stroll by his desk and announce to him, “ Uh, Eddie, wake up please! No sleeping in my class. We have a lot to learn.” He would ignore me and turn his head. “ Come on Eddie, pick up your head, let’s look at this essay. I will help you with it!” At times I would get grudging compliance, at other times he might become belligerent and mouth off to me “you can’t tell me what to do!” And “I don’t feel good!” LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Of course, leaving him alone was the last thing I was going to do and he knew it. I knew I had precious little time to make a connection and gain his trust so with respect I made Eddie my mission for the next few weeks. When he entered my classroom I greeted him with a smile every day. I made a point to ask a few questions, how was your weekend, did you do anything special – kind of questions. He mostly had a scowl and never a nice word but, like the ocean that continuously washed up on the sand, I proceeded undeterred.

One pivotal day, Eddie came to class again without his homework, an essay that he owed me. He was supposed to write it in class and take it home to revise. He had done neither and told me he didn’t intend to do it. I told him that I didn’t intend to send him, which really made him angry. As I kept him in my room for a few minutes, I looked up a phone number and called home. A nice young man answered the phone; he introduced himself as Eddie’s uncle. I talked to him and explained that Eddie needed a little more help at home and asked him if he could help Eddie tonight work to write an essay. He said he would.

The next day Eddie came to school and swished a looseleaf paper in front of my nose. It was a perfectly penned essay that was on topic, developed and complete. I couldn’t believe it! Here I was thinking that maybe Eddie would never come around but a little help from his uncle and he got the job done!

Eddie was smiling when I complimented him about how wonderful his essay was. Did his uncle help? Yes and he told me that his uncle was going to be on him from now on to do his homework and do well in school. WOW!

After that Eddie has had his share of bad days but we had turned a corner. He has been frequently seen volunteering answers in class and writing as much as he can with a little help from me or a boost from his uncle at home.

Recently he volunteered to water my plants and believe it or not, he does a great job without prompting. I am grateful to Eddie’s uncle, my ally in this war of getting students to learn. Like the ocean we can just keep hammering at the shore, hoping to turn the tide in favor of success for Eddie and all the students who deserve our perseverance and our attention.

Memoirs and Zip

Spring 2008

The day that my dog died I was headed to school to teach. Even though I was devastated from being up all night at the vets and having to make that horrendous decision to have her put to sleep, I decided to go to school anyway and tell my students about it and use it as a learning experience. That was just so foolish. Once again I had overestimated my ability to translate parts of my life into meaningful lessons. I needed time to work through the grief and when I got halfway to school, I was in tears and called the office for a substitute.

After a few weeks when the ache of her loss was less fresh, I shared with my eighth grade students a story about Zip, our dog. My lesson was to teach writing as a process, a human process that is full of feelings and emotions. I began like this. Students today I’m going to let you read a story that I wrote at home after my dog died. You know my keyboard on my computer at home is waterproof. It has to be because so often when I am writing about things that mean a lot to me, the tears are just rolling down my face and my keyboard gets splashed.” My students were looking at me not sure what to think so I shared this story with them about my heartache over the loss of my dog during the holiday. My goal was to model the writing of a memory, a memoir piece so that they could write a memory of their own from the holiday break. This little essay really did the trick.

The Best Gift

The lights were all low and the enough candles were lit in the family room to give a warm glow. The green Christmas tree was wrapped in red velvet ribbon and gifts were scattered all under the tree. This was Christmas night and we had waited patiently for all my children to arrive and get settled so we could exchange gifts. Even though my three boys are older with William 23, Nicholas 20 and Alex, 17, they still looked forward to getting gifts. At this point the boys exchanged gifts with each other and their grandparents and that was the most exciting part. For me the best part was just to be together and have some happy times especially since I was still grieving the loss of our family Bassett hound, Zip, who had just passed away a week ago.

I was grateful to have William and Erin drive in all the way from New Jersey, and my parents from Wilmington. The lights on the tree twinkled softly and the stereo supported the peaceful mood with familiar carols.

Alex gave both of his brothers soccer balls, which they loved. Nicholas received a new set of tires for his car. William and Alex both got winter jackets that would keep them warm through many long walks across campus.

I opened my gifts last because I was busy taking pictures of everyone else. Alex handed me a long rectangular gift with silver wrapping a curly green bow. I opened it carefully and when I peeked inside my eyes welled up with tears and I couldn’t speak. I was staring at a series of three pastel drawings that Alex made of our dog Zip. There was Zip sitting pretty, Zip running toward me, and my favorite, Zip in sunglasses. My heart ached and my tears flowed but through it all we had a great family moment of remembering a dearly loved and missed friend.

I took the pictures to be framed. I told Alex that I wanted to hang them in a special place, at home. He suggested that I hang them in a place where we can all see them. I agreed. This love, this gift was too special to keep to myself. I wanted to share them with everyone so we placed them in the family room, near a place where Zippy slept that way she will always be with us at home.

After they read my story the room was stone cold silent. My students were respectful of my loss and grateful that I shared such a deeply personal story. My Zip memoir had reached them in a very profound way and gave them permission to open up and write about things that mattered to them. After that their ideas really flowed. There were stories about the loss of a dearly beloved pet, a friend and loved ones. Once they realized that writing was from within, something that they already had inside that they were allowed to let out and, their writing took on a new dimension. Stories with rich deep themes started to flow freely. Everyone had something to say, something to tell. We teachers get to see this learning bloom and it is such a marvelous moment: a golden classroom moment because this is where we glimpse the result of our labor. Student connecting, getting it and discovering his or her own voice.

Their own memoirs were rich and deep, a treasure trove of ideas and feelings that we had just begun to tap. Lucky me, I get to search for more treasure for a bit longer.

June, don’t come to soon. There is work to be done and I think that I found the map and the key to unlock my students’ mind

I whispered a silent prayer for Zippy who had succeeded in helping me teach an important lesson about memory: Write what matters. Zippy is gone from the earth, but she has an honored place in my lessons and my heart.