The Tempered Radical

TWIT : We REALLY DO Influence Our Students

A few years back, I started a new category of posts here on the Radical called TWIT -- or THIS Is Why I Teach -- designed to serve as a celebration of the simple joys that come along with being a classroom teacher and a reminder to me that I really DO enjoy what I do. 

I realized the other day that it's been a LONG while since I wrote a TWIT post -- and then the email below ended up in my inbox:

Dear Mr. Ferriter,

In my last semester at UNC Chapel Hill where I double majored in Psychology and Political Science, I took a class in cognitive development.

Our professor asked the class if anyone had a vivid memory of something taught in grade school and I raised my hand.

I told a story about my 6th grade language arts teacher who came into class and told one side of the room that they were his favorite students and the other side that they were bad and lazy.

I told them how the good side was given soda and candy and how the bad side was assigned pages out of a workbook.

You did this demonstration to teach us about discrimination and injustice and how despite the arbitrariness of the division, no one spoke out against it.

My professor and the class were impressed less with my recollection than with the brilliance of your pedagogical device.

Earlier this past semester in law school at Georgetown, I was working on a ten day take-home exam memorandum.

I thought about how easy it would be for students to collaborate on the assignment, breaking the honor code.

I thought about how the code was less fair to people like me who would choose to follow it by forcing us to compete with those who would ignore it and benefit from collaboration.

Then I remembered how Mr. Ferriter emphatically taught my 6th grade class that it was better to earn an "F" than to cheat one's way to an "A".

On many occasions like these, I have been reminded of your teachings.

I often wondered how it was that under the guise of language arts you taught us so much about ethics and morality.

I sit here writing this e-mail ten or so years since being in your class not just because you were a teacher but because you went above and beyond what was required of you, and as a result, you made a really important difference.

I believe that aside from parents, teachers wield the most power in deciding what our society will be like. Thank you for taking advantage of that authority and being such a positive influence.

I know I am a better person for having been in your class.

Sincerely,

Bindhu

How's THAT for a pick-me-up after a long week of teaching, huh?!

More importantly, how's THAT for a reminder that everything we do matters more than we can possibly imagine. 

#simpletruth

________________________

Related Radical Reads:

TWIT: They Don't Judge Me by a Test

TWIT: They Write Once in a While

TWIT: They're Learning from Me

 

TWIT: Parents Really DO Notice

You know, I've been bringing a lot of pessimism to the party lately. 

Don't get me wrong:  that's definitely my niche.  Without guys like me, people would think that educators were one big heaping pile of sunshine and candycorn, right?

But I've been SO pessimistic that I've even got myself down!

That's why the following email----which landed in my inbox the other day---meant so much to me:

Bill,

I just visited The Fighting Gnomes website to see if I could glean any useful information about what Andrew's doing in school.  

While on the site, curiosity led me to your "livescribe" tutorial on convection.  I was extremely impressed with the technology and even more thrilled by your delivery of the subject matter!  

You have an amazing gift!  

I hope you'll always be energized by teaching and feel a sense of accomplishment and pleasure by knowing how many young minds you've been able to open to the great and intriguing world in which we live.  

We are surrounded by natural miracles that are all too often taken for granted or not pondered at all because too many people failed to learn how to enjoy scientific inquiry.  THANKS for all you do at Salem Middle School!  You're the best in class!   

Rgds, David

 

Not bad, huh?  Maybe I AM getting something right every now and then.  And maybe----just maybe----parents value me for something more than test scores.

I may forget it far too often, but this is why I teach.

 

Bill,

I just visited The Fighting Gnomes website to see if I could glean any useful information about what Andrew's doing in school.  While on the site, curiosity led me to your "livescribe" tutorial on convection.  I was extremely impressed with the technology and even more thrilled by your delivery of the subject matter!  You have an amazing gift!  I hope you'll always be energized by teaching and feel a sense of accomplishment and pleasure by knowing how many young minds you've been able to open to the great and intriguing world in which we live.  We are surrounded by natural miracles that are all too often taken for granted or not pondered at all because too many people failed to learn how to enjoy scientific inquiry.  THANKS for all you do at Salem Middle School!  You're the best in class!   Rgds, David Brush 

TWIT: They Don't Judge Me by a Test

If you've been reading the Radical recently, you know it's been a frustrating week for me.  I'm tired of working in tested subjects and tired of fighting back against under-informed policies.

Things are gloomy inside my professional head, that's for sure.  Which is why the letter that one of my seventh grade soccer players brought by my room yesterday afternoon meant so much. 

Check it out:

Dear Mr. Ferriter,

I just wanted to say that I appreciate your time and effort in putting this season together.  You are a great coach that knows how to teach beautiful soccer and have fun at the same time. 

I know and understand that you appreciate us as much as we admire you, and thank you for that.  Words cannot describe how thankful and blessed we are for you, Coach.  We all hope you are able to come back next year, but if not, we totally understand and are grateful for the time that you have given us.

This season was definitely one that I will never forget, and you are a huge part of that.  I just want to thank you for everything that you have done for us and taught us about the wonderful game of soccer.

--Baker Boy

Next time someone asks about my "value added scores" or my "effectiveness index," I'm going to send them to see this kid!  Maybe then, they'll recognize that the contributions of teachers go far beyond anything a standardized test can measure.  

This is why I teach.

 

TWIT: Real Men Read

One of the things that I like the best about myself is that I'm all-boy...and I have been since the day that I was born.  I'm the kind of guy who eats his mac and cheese straight out of the pot rather than have to wash a plate and who could entertain himself all day long with nothing more than a good pile of dirt.

I live, eat and breathe sports.  I'll gladly spend hours arguing with you about why Duke has no business winning National Championships.  I remember clearly where I was when Brett Hull cheated to steal the Stanley Cup from my Buffalo Sabres over a decade ago and the phrase "wide right" still makes me cry. 

(Say nothing, Giants fans.  Nothing.)

Heck---I even had my wedding in the middle of March Madness so that our after-party could involve shooting some stick and watching hoops.  Wife wasn't happy, but just how else are you supposed convince your buddies to show up for your nuptials?

My clothes miss the laundry hamper nine times out of ten---a fortuitous twist of fate considering that I'm likely to wear everything more than once.  I've got a shed full of power tools and a chain saw.  I'm loud, I can't sit still and I NEVER ask for directions!

That means I'm a breath of fresh air for many of the boys that roll into my middle school classroom.  Having spent the better part of their school careers locked into desks trying to be quiet and growing tired of being misunderstood, they quickly fall in love with the guy in me.

TWIT: They Write. . .Once in A While!

It's been another difficult week for me.  Too many conflicts and not enough comfort---and that's on me.  I'm a fighter by trade, and am one of those people who never seems completely relaxed unless he's in the middle of a good argument. 

It's exhausting, though.  I gotta give it a rest.  I'm a walking, breathing example of teacher burnout in action. 

That's why this note---which I found in my mailbox on Friday---is making my "eyes wet" right now:

Dear Mr. Ferriter,

You don't know how difficult writing this letter is. 

It means admitting that my middle school career is finally drawing to a close.  Three fleeting years have passed in the blink of an eye, and I'm so thankful that you've been a part of them.  The year that I spent in your class was one of the most exciting of my life.  For the first time, I enjoyed coming to school each day and reveled in the fun of it all.

You taught me to look at the world in a new perspective.  I learned about all of the things that technology can produce.  I mean, who could forget all of that awesome blogging?  But most of all, you are an all around awesome guy.  You are funny, smart, witty, and can make light of almost any situation.  Thank you so much.

Very truly yours,
Kyle

I hate using phrases like "these kinds of words are a teacher's greatest reward" because too many people use that as an excuse to pay teachers nothing for the work that they do, but I will definitely say that these kinds of words mean the world to me.

For whatever reason, teaching is often a thankless grind.  It's hard, hard work in a profession that is constantly under attack.  We're battered by criticism---and unrealistic expectations---from every corner. 

So when a kid takes the time to say thank you, the world stops for a bit and I remember what it is that I've been fighting for.  Touches the ol' heart, that's for sure. 

This is why I teach.

TWIT: They're Learning from Me

As a middle school soccer coach for the better part of the past 16 years, I can honestly say that there's NOTHING I enjoy more than being out on the field with the lads for a few hours every afternoon.  Something about athletics brings out the best in boys---and that's just plain fun to watch. 

I think what I like the best about coaching is that gives me an opportunity to have a completely non-academic relationship with kids.  Everything about our work on the field is connected to the kinds of character traits that I care the most about.  Determination, hard work, pride, honor, and commitment to others define the lessons that I'm teaching when I'm with my team.   

(I know.  I know.  I could teach the same traits in language arts.  It's just that "Come on, guys.  Don't quit until you  find those comma splices!" doesn't have the quite the same impact on tweenage boys.)  

What's most powerful is having the opportunity to model how men are supposed to act in difficult circumstances-----and it's just that kind of opportunity that I've been wrestling with all week long.

TWIT: They Always Wonder

It's been a few months since I spent any time reminding myself why I teach.  I guess that shouldn't be a surprise.  I am, after all, a "glass is not only half empty...it's shattered on the floor in a million pieces" kind of guy.  I get lost in the battles I'm fighting and forget that there are real reasons why I love the work that I do.

They're called kids.

  by  John-Morgan 

The past few weeks have centered me, though.  You see, we're coming to the end of a science unit on energy---studying light, sound and heat----and each day has been a bit more amazing than the last. 

Wanting to take advantage of the full science lab classroom that I've been assigned for this nine-week period, I nearly killed myself planning a bunch of hands-on activities designed to introduce my kids to the key concepts behind the ways that sound, light and heat are transferred through our universe.  I spent hours and hours scrounging up supplies and setting up stations that were manageable for my students---not to mention dropping $100 on consumables that we didn't have in our storage room.

Then, I made a bit of a gutsy instructional decision:  I decided to place the focus of assessment in each of our stations on nothing more than the quality of the additional questions that my kids asked after engaging in each activity.   "Kids and scientists are a lot alike," I explained as we began our unit, "They both have incredibly curious minds.  It's just that scientists do a better job documenting their curiosity.

TWIT: They Still Dream

The weather was absolutely gorgeous here on Veterans Day, and having caught up on all of my planning and paper grading, I decided to take a day off!  (Anyone who knows me will realize exactly how big a deal that really is.)

As soon as I'd finished off two sausage burritos at the local Mickey-D's and watched an hour's worth of Judge Mathis---two selfish pleasures that I'm not all that proud of---I decided that I was going to spend 8 consecutive hours outside.  Being a writer and a work-a-holic, I find that I sometimes miss daylight for weeks on end because I'm trapped behind a screen somewhere---so I needed to soak in some Vitamin D.

And being a guy who loves reading more than life itself (hyperbole, anyone?), I grabbed my Kindle, headed off to a local shopping complex with great options for outdoor seating, and settled in to crank through a few hundred pages of Pillars of the Earth---a Ken Follett historical fiction bit set during the Middle Ages. 

Just as I'd hit my mental stride, my phone rang.  I actually cursed, knowing that whoever was vibrating my hip was going to need more cognitive energy than I was willing to give.  "WHY CAN'T PEOPLE LEAVE ME ALONE!" I thought, fully planning to let the call go straight to voicemail.

The only thing I hate more than phone calls, though, are voicemail messages!  After all, it ain't like I can just pretend that the vibrations never happened----and once the message is left, it becomes my responsibility to call back. So I decided to answer---and when I saw my caller ID, my spirits lifted instantly: 

Johnny, one of my favorite kids of all time was on the other end of the line!

Turns out that Johnny had just finished his last day of basketball tryouts for the junior varsity team at the local high school.  Being a freshman---and being slightly smaller than the average 9th grader---Johnny was rightfully nervous about making the team and he just wanted to talk to me about the whole tryout process. 

 

"I guess a bit of good news," he said, "was that coach had me playing on the good team at the end of tryouts.  We were taking on the returning 10th graders, and I got a bunch of minutes.  I'm no where near as athletic as the older guys, but I didn't stink either."

Just listening to the hope in his voice was a reminder to me.  You see, sometimes I forget that every one of the kids that I teach have the same kinds of dreams in their hearts.  Some want to be gymnasts, soccer stars, or grid-iron heroes.  Others want to be writers, doctors or lawyers.  I've had future veterinarians in my room sitting next to microbiologists, rappers, deejays and dancers.   

Sometimes twelve-year-old dreams seem logical and attainable and other times they seem like too much fantasy, but the neat part is that sixth graders still dream---and dreams are a source of incredible passion and personal interest.  Johnny was willing to invest any amount of time and energy into making the basketball team, and to make the team would be a source of remarkable pride for him. 

And my role is refreshing, don't you think?  I can inspire and guide and coach and train and lead and support and console kids as they walk towards a future they'd give anything for.  While it's often hard to remember, I'm a part of something much bigger than end of grade tests, state-mandated curriculum or a focus on results---even though it sometimes seems like my work is defined by nothing more than numbers.

Knowing just what Johnny needed to hear, I slipped into counselor mode:  "Kid, even if you don't make the team, I'm proud of you for trying out.  We live in a world that rewards risk-takers, and that's what you showed yourself to be today.  And as a coach myself, I can tell you that I'd love to have you on my team.  You're a kind-hearted kid who supports your team-mates and hustles all over the floor.  Those are traits that will serve you well for a long while." 

It felt good to reinforce Johnny's dream---and it felt good that he came to me looking for support even after having left my classroom years ago. 

This is why I teach. 

(Image credit:  Crooked by Wetsun, licensed Creative Commons:  Attribution)

TWIT: A Color-Blind America

Ask most people who know me and they'll tell you that I'm a "glass-half empty" kind of guy.  I don't know why, but pessimism just feels right to me.  In fact, I've always described myself as a "glass-thrown-against-the-wall-and-broken-into-a-billion-pieces" kind of guy.

So I can get stuck in moments of negativity about my work sometimes.  I take the criticism levelled at education personally, get frustrated when I don't have the influence over key decisions that I desire, and wonder why in the world I stay in the classroom each month when I balance my checkbook!

In an effort to remind myself that teaching is one of the most satisfying professions on the planet as long as you're on the lookout for the rewards, I'm planning to start a new category of entries here on the Radical called TWITs.  TWIT stands simply for "This is Why I Teach."  The entries are likely to be shorter and lighter than the topics I typically tackle---hence the name TWIT---and they might not be for every reader. 

Now, I know what you're thinking:  The world sure doesn't need another "smiles-and-daffodils" teaching blog preaching about how wonderful children are and how teachers are Saints on earth.  After all, if we looked hard enough, we could probably drown in glasses over-flowing with warm and fuzzy.

But what I need is to deliberately look for the moments where my interactions with kids leave me energized.  Otherwise, I'll completely forget that I like what I do.

Does this make sense?

My kids gave me one of those moments on Wednesday morning.  I'd stumbled across this great image representing the Presidents of the United States on Patrick Moberg's Illustration Blog: 

Because we're working on identifying main idea in our reading classes, I asked my students a simple question:  "What point do you think the artist was trying to make with this image?"  My students' answer: 

"Well, that's pretty obvious, Mr. Ferriter.  He's trying to say that the United States has never had a woman president."

Amazing, huh? 

Was gender the first thing that you thought of when you looked at the profiles of our previous Presidents?

It wasn't for me.  I expected them to point out that for hundreds of years, America has been ruled by old white men.  After all, race has defined many of the most powerful conversations in our country over the past 200 years---and as a white man teaching in the South, race has always been an issue that I've danced around.

My kids didn't see race, though!  Barack Obama's image didn't stand out despite being the only black man on the page.  All that they noticed was that he was a man---nothing more and nothing less. 

That's got me feeling pretty good about the future of our country.  Sure, there are people who will always look at other individuals through the lens of skin-color.  While racism is abhorrent, it's also a sad truth of the human condition.

But as more and more children grow up in an increasingly tolerant world with successful role models of every shape and color, our country---like my kids---becomes increasingly color-blind...and that' just plan cool.

This is why I teach.