The Good Old Days

SO much to consider when measuring progress

There have been a few educators--ranging from early childhood to higher education--whom I've watched and from whom I've learned over the last several years. One was a school leader who seemed to be a ubiquitous ninja. One weekend I watched her go from a parent night to a 6th grade sleepover to a basketball game and show up well-prepared and looking fresh every time. She was also responded promptly to emails, knew every child's name, personally handed out Kit Kats on the last day of school, and still found time for mani-pedis.


Then there was the southern belle who was quick to question every historical/traditional convention she discovered in her work as a poet, editor or professor. It was she who voiced a tenet of my personal teaching philosophy I didn't even know I possessed. "I'm not here for those students," she said, referring to students at plush private universities whose K-12 experience prepared them well for life in the driver's seat. "I want students who are hungry, who are maybe the first generation in their family to be in college. The ones against whom the odds are stacked." Hopefully I am not begrudging kids who were born into comfy socio-economic circumstances, but there is a difference when students don't assume entitlement.


At first glance, the pre-K teacher I remember fondly to this day dresses in black and probably looks the part of a cross-country Harley riding free spirit, but she was organized, disciplined, soft-spoken, intellectually rigorous, respect-commanding and the creator of some wonderful memories. Two of my children left her class more than ready for Kindergarten.

I tried to be one of those teachers last weekend when I went to my students' football game. What wound up happening is that I got lost and made it for the last 60 seconds of the game (literally). I have so far to go.

Since beginning this post (last weekend, which is more evidence of me getting swallowed by school days and non-ninja status), I had a chance to speak to two different veteran educators, who have at least six decades of experience under their belts. One told me of recently meeting a former student who called over a friend and said, "You see this man here? He used to beat the CRAP out of me everyday, and now I'm a detective!" The vet was slightly alarmed that the object of his handiwork was now armed and much stronger, but apparently something happened during their hands-on experiences. Aaaah, those were the days.

Now, such interactive teaching styles are frowned upon but--I daresay--are muchly needed. In their stead, I am launching a full-on communications effort to get as many parents as possible to the first report card night of the year so I can not-so-subtly suggest some techniques parents can use to help their children along the path to success. 

Let's see how that works out.