The Art of Teaching Children, page 31
Fake Pray
When one of your firecrackers (let’s call him Oliver) is driving you nuts, look up to heaven and announce, “God bless Oliver.” Firecrackers like this.
Make a Call
If Oliver continues to drive you bonkers, walk over to your phone, pick it up, and say (loudly), “Hello. Is this Oliver’s mom? This is his teacher. Oliver is driving me crazy today.” Then hang up. But don’t do this often. When you do, the rest of the class will want you to “call” their moms too.
Name Your Hair
If Oliver is still driving you bananas, point to the gray hairs on the side of your head and say to him, “See these gray hairs? I named them after you.” Note: To children, naming your gray hairs after them is considered a high compliment.
Frosting
My mom is an excellent cook. When I was a kid, she kept her cans of McCormick and Schilling spices in a drawer beside the oven. Once, when I was running around the kitchen with my younger brother, and my mom had had enough, she opened that spice drawer and told us to set all the cans on the floor and put them in alphabetical order. We loved it. And my mom had a few minutes of peace. Smart mom. Years later, when I was teaching ABC order to my third graders, I remembered my mother’s clever spice drawer trick and asked my students to do the same for homework. The next morning, a mom said, “Nice homework last night.” She added that her son got so into it that he also alphabetized the fruit bowl.
Being a good teacher is like being a good cook. You carefully plan what you’re going to serve. You gather all the necessary ingredients. You spend hours preparing. Finally, your guests arrive and take their seats, and you share all that you have worked so hard on. You hope they enjoy it. And when they leave, you get to clean up the mess. Like cooks, teachers have their spices too. Ours include delight and energy, enjoyment and excitement, liveliness and vigor. (Notice I put those in alphabetical order.) We use our spices to turn our classrooms into flavorful ones. Of all the spices in a teacher’s “spice cabinet,” one of the most important is enthusiasm.
Enthusiasm is charisma, fervor, and putting your whole heart into something. For teachers, enthusiasm is what conveys the zest you feel for teaching and learning. Children recognize it. In fact, if you ask students to name the teachers they feel are the most enthusiastic, and then ask them to name their favorite teachers, the lists are often the same. Kids are drawn to teachers who are passionate about their work. When teachers exhibit enthusiasm, children become more alert, interested, and eager to learn. They require less prodding and coaxing to pay attention. They are motivated to behave and want to be with you. All teachers want to instill a love of school in their students. Teaching enthusiastically increases the odds that you will accomplish this.
Enthusiasm does for teaching what piano accompaniment does for a song, lights do for a Christmas tree, and gravy does for mashed potatoes. It makes them better. I like to think of enthusiasm as frosting on a cake. Frosting holds the cake’s layers together. It adds sweetness and makes a cake more appealing. Enthusiasm sweetens up your teaching and helps create its appeal too. You could eat just a plain piece of cake, of course, but it wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable as one slathered with frosting. Without enthusiasm, your lessons won’t be as enjoyable either. A teacher can be weak in several areas and still be effective. But you can’t be weak in enthusiasm. A lack of it can cause children to become bored and uninterested. And when this happens, they will start to tune you out and look to create their own fun.
One year a first-year teacher at my school named Tracy asked if I’d observe her give a lesson. She told me that her fourth graders weren’t listening to her, and she wanted some pointers. I agreed. The following week, I walked into Tracy’s classroom and took a seat at her desk. Spread out on top of it was a collection of Winnie-the-Pooh figurines. Soon Tracy began her lesson, and I took notes. Well, she was right. Most of her kids were not paying attention. They were fidgeting and side talking. One boy looked like he’d fallen asleep. To be honest, I had trouble paying attention myself. One of the reasons was that Tracy spoke in a monotone voice. There was zero energy behind her words. It felt like I was listening to a boring sermon in church. It was bad.
After the lesson, the children left for the library, and Tracy and I sat at her desk to talk. Gently, I told her where I thought she could improve. (I left out the boring sermon comparison.) At first, she was defensive, blaming her students and insisting that they should listen to her. I told her that it would be nice if all children listened with rapt attention on their own, but that’s not the real world. I also explained that a big part of our job is to keep kids interested, and that one of the best ways to accomplish this is by being enthusiastic. Tracy got it. At the end of our chat, she looked at her Pooh figurines and said, “So what you’re saying is I need to be less like Eeyore and more like Tigger.” I laughed. “Yes.”
Being enthusiastic doesn’t mean you have to dart around your classroom all the time like a ball in a pinball machine. Nor does it mean that your lessons have to be circus acts. Enthusiasm is making direct eye contact with your kids as you teach, using your voice and face and body to hold their attention, and giving a smile and a thumbs-up when they understand. It’s getting excited right along with children when the baking soda and vinegar you poured into the papier-mâché volcano starts spilling out of it or the stalk of celery that you let sit in food dye overnight turns red. The great Roald Dahl believed in the importance of being an enthusiast in life. “If you are interested in something,” he wrote, “no matter what it is, go at it full speed ahead. Embrace it with both arms, hug it, love it, and above all become passionate about it. Lukewarm is no good.” I couldn’t agree more. I understand that there are days when you just don’t want to act excited about teaching times tables, topic sentences, or tadpoles. But as much as you are able, teach full speed ahead. Pour your soul into it. Let enthusiasm be your engine. Embrace it, hug it, and slather it all over your teaching.
The Superpower
To most children, teachers are superheroes. Our X-ray vision enables us to see phones hidden in kids’ laps. Our mind-reading capabilities tell us when a child doesn’t really need to go to the bathroom but just wants to go with her friend. Our power to transform propels us to turn macaroni into necklaces and handprints into turkeys. Our bionic lie-detecting sense empowers us to know that there is gum hidden in the mouth that just said “No, there isn’t.” Our ability to move at lightning speed is evidenced when we eat lunch. Our telepathic powers can lock eyes with a coworker during a staff meeting that has gone overtime and know exactly what the colleague is thinking. We have bladders of steel. But one of our superpowers eclipses all the others. It spreads happiness and positivity and elevates the mood of those around you. This superpower is our smile. Superman and Wonder Woman have their capes. Teachers have their smiles. Nothing we wear is more important.
Every child wants to feel comfortable in school. They all need to feel safe and secure. A teacher’s smile gives them this. When working with children, teachers think about their words a lot, but we don’t always give much thought to the muscles in our faces. When you smile at your students, you send the message that they are welcome and accepted. Smiles build trust and respect. Your smile tells children that you are kindhearted and easy to get along with. Like a magnet, it draws kids to you. In the eyes of children (and their parents), a teacher who smiles appears more courteous, competent, and likeable. A teacher’s smile is a key ingredient in creating a warm and safe classroom.
Smiling and its effects have been thoroughly researched. Smiling relieves stress, boosts the immune system, lowers blood pressure, and helps to keep you positive. Studies show that smiling reduces the level of stress-enhancing hormones such as cortisol and adrenaline, and the neurotransmitter dopamine, while increasing mood-enhancing brain chemicals like endorphins. In other words, smiling is free therapy. British researchers found that one smile is as stimulating to our brains as eating two thousand bars of chocolate. When I read that, I thought, Did some guy actually get to eat all that? If so, sign me up for the next study. Another study looked at the baseball cards of major-league players and concluded that those with the bigger smiles lived longer. At the University of California at Berkeley, psychologists discovered that students who wore wider smiles in their yearbook photos scored higher on tests of well-being and also ended up living longer. I was glad they hadn’t looked at the yearbooks from when I was teaching. A couple of schools where I worked made yearbooks with everyone’s photo. Mine never looked too relaxed. Usually I was pretending to smile. A lot of teachers do. The reason for this is that while we are sitting on the photographer’s stool with our backs straight, chins raised, and feet planted on the line of masking tape, we are telling our kids through gritted teeth not to fool around.
Teachers have a variety of smiles. There’s the fake smile that I just mentioned. Teachers also flash fake smiles when sitting in dunking booths at school carnivals and when a parent known to be a chronic complainer drops by your classroom unexpectedly after school. Fake smiles are formed by drawing back the lips and holding them there. They can be close mouthed or open. Think Cheshire cat. Sometimes teachers crack the embarrassed smile. It appears when the principal walks into your classroom to set something on your desk but can’t find a clear spot. The embarrassed smile is usually asymmetrical and accompanied by a twisted expression. The most common teacher smile is the I-work-with-kids smile, which comes from the genuine enjoyment teachers feel being around children. You’ll see this smile on a teacher’s face when a child who couldn’t read fur at the beginning of the year just read furniture, or a student who was struggling with a math problem announces, “I get it!” The I-work-with-kids smile causes cheeks to rise and laugh lines to deepen. Another, less common smile that teachers make is the ecstatic one. This smile shows up when you find out that the staff meeting has been canceled. The ecstatic smile is often accompanied by a little dance. And teachers also have their tender smile. Tender smiles emerge when a child holds your hand while you’re on yard duty, sneaks a drawing of you onto your desk, or tells you at the end of the day on Friday that she will miss you. The tender smile involves the simultaneous movement of several parts of the face: the lips curve upward, the chin tilts down, the head cocks to one side, and the corners of the eyes crinkle because they are smiling too.
It seems obvious that teachers would smile at their students, but they don’t always do so. Sometimes they miss the opportunity. In the rush to get things done, it’s easy to go about your day without stretching those lips. So make a conscious effort to raise the corners of your mouth when with children. Ask yourself, When a child walks into my classroom, does my face light up? Does it say, I’m glad you’re here? When taking attendance, smile at your kids as you say their names. When passing out papers, toss out smiles too. When you’re standing in front of the line waiting for your students to face forward and stop talking, smile down at the child in front of you. She’ll smile back.
Children are keen at reading their teachers’ smiles. They know when a smile is genuine and when it is not. I can prove it. At the end of each school year, I used to give my students a report card—not for them but for me. A “report card for the teacher,” I’d call it. I wanted to find out what the kids had enjoyed about the year, what they didn’t, and how they thought I could improve. I told them that their answers would help me become a better teacher. One June day early in my career, I handed out these report cards to my fifth graders, including to a boy named Gabriel. He had been one of my challenges that year. Before entering my classroom, he’d been expelled from another school for throwing a music stand at his teacher. That year, I gave Gabriel lots of TLC. I doubted he’d gotten much in school. I remember once when Gabriel was seated at his desk and I stood beside him to help, I put my hand lightly on his shoulder and felt his body melt. When the children finished filling out my report card, they handed them in, and I began to look over them. When I read Gabriel’s, I was struck by one of his responses. The question: “What did you appreciate most about your teacher?” Gabriel’s answer: “You smiled at me.” To that, all the muscles in my face made a teacher smile—the tender one.
Whoa!
The big day had finally arrived. Jill led her excited kindergartners outside to the field. In her hands, she held a netted house with new butterflies. For weeks, her students had observed hungry caterpillars fatten up, then hide inside their chrysalides, until one day they emerged transformed. Back in the classroom, the whiteboard tray was lined with butterfly books. On the wall flew butterflies made out of tissue paper, pipe cleaners, and googly eyes. When Jill and her little ones reached the field, she helped them form a circle, then walked to the center of it. A few parents had stopped by to record the big event. “Okay, boys and girls,” Jill announced over the excitement, “here we go.” And then she started counting. “One… two…” On “three!” she lifted the lid, and out fluttered the butterflies. Faces lit up. Mouths opened. Voices cried “Whoa!” And all the children’s eyes followed their winged friends as if they were witnessing a flurry of fairies suddenly take flight. A couple of kids waved good-bye.
At that very moment, Jill’s students encountered wonderment. We’ve all felt it. Wonderment is the sense of rapt awe you experience as you’re hiking up a long trail and suddenly come upon an unexpected view that takes your breath away. It’s that spine-tingling feeling of amazement when you’re outside on an overcast day, and all of a sudden the sun breaks through, and all is golden. It’s the astonishment that hits you when witnessing the magnificent scope of the Grand Canyon, the view from atop the Eiffel Tower, or the magic of the Northern Lights. It is that feeling of mystery and reverence that overwhelms you while sitting on a beach and looking out at the vastness of the water and sky. Wonderment grips us when encountering sweeping vistas, intense sunsets, and starry nights. It grabs us when we see fireflies, spiderwebs, and hummingbirds too.
A child’s world brims with wonderment. It’s this world of aliveness and fascination and excitement that makes young ones stop everything if a ladybug lands on a desk. It’s what causes kids to gape and gawk with dazzled eyes at fireworks. It’s what pulls a group of children to huddle around a single worm during recess. It’s what compels students to check on the tadpoles by the classroom sink every day and what causes youngsters to squeal when they spot the top of a seedling that just pushed its way up through the dirt in a plastic cup. It’s what draws boys and girls to check the classroom butterfly net every chance they get in hopes of witnessing the last stage of the butterfly cycle before they walk outside with the teacher to watch them get released.
Wonderment moves and inspires. It ignites curiosity. When children are wowed, they are fully engaged and completely present. Their brains are lit, and their minds and hearts open—a place ripe for learning. A sense of wonderment enhances their well-being as well. Researchers at a number of universities have shown that awe-inspiring experiences can elevate our mood, help relax us, motivate us to care for others, and even strengthen our immune systems.
How can teachers cultivate wonderment in their students? Nurture it with nature. Connect your kids to the natural world. This, more than anything, promotes a sense of wonder in children. Kids have an affinity for nature. They are instinctively attuned to it. Children don’t need to be told about the joys of digging in the dirt, gazing at stars, throwing snowballs, or somersaulting down a hill. One of the best ways to connect kids with nature is to take them outside for a nature walk. Arm your students with clipboards, paper, pencils—and maybe some binoculars made out of toilet paper rolls—and let nature be the teacher. Have your kids search for things they see, touch, hear, and smell. Look for rocks and bugs and animal tracks. Sniff soil and leaves, pine needles and flowers. Listen for birds. Make a scavenger hunt out of it. On your walk, challenge children with questions that they haven’t thought about before: “Can you smell morning?” “Does nature smile?” “Do you think the wind likes to play with your hair?” And while you’re outside, be a codiscoverer. Comment out loud about the astonishing things you witness around you. Model a sense of amazement for even the smallest wonders: an ant carrying a leaf, new spring buds, the silvery path of a snail. In our high-tech world of computers and smartphones, kids still need trees and sticks, rocks and dirt, puddles and mud. More than ever.
