Today was a run-of-the-mill day. Nothing spectacular happened at work. Nothing spectacular happened at home. And yet, here I am at the end of the day happy.
I taught three classes today. In period one, the kids were finishing up a project about something they were good at. Sure, they goofed around at the end of the period on Facebook (with my permission), but before that, they really and truly cared about the presentation they were creating. I really had a nice time wandering about the room and seeing what they were creating.
In period two, we finished watching a movie in preparation for writing our own screenplays. It was an old movie, twenty-five years old in fact, and instead of mocking the teacher for showing such an old movie, those wonderful minds in front of me engaged in serious and mature conversation about what they appreciated and didn't appreciate about the film. I was so impressed by their knowledge of movies past and present. Later, when we got a chance to look at the original screenplay of the movie, those same exciting young minds had so many interesting things to say about what they thought worked and didn't work. I felt privileged to have a job where I got paid to share time with these people.
Last week, my favourite professor from my numerous years at univerisity passed away. Dr. Paul Beam ( and he'd hate that I called him "doctor") made me feel that I mattered. Among other things, he went that extra step in a very difficult time in my life to offer me opportunities in case they were right for me. In period three today, I did a tribute lesson to Paul. I taught a poem in the way that he taught me to do so many years ago. I talked about him in class, and I became him as I taught. My students went along with me as we "tore apart" a poem. I don't, of course, see it that way. And neither did Paul. We "unfolded" the poem, as if it were a rose given to us by our first love. I told them a little about Paul before we started, and I thanked him at the end of the lesson.
I taught three classes today. In period one, the kids were finishing up a project about something they were good at. Sure, they goofed around at the end of the period on Facebook (with my permission), but before that, they really and truly cared about the presentation they were creating. I really had a nice time wandering about the room and seeing what they were creating.
In period two, we finished watching a movie in preparation for writing our own screenplays. It was an old movie, twenty-five years old in fact, and instead of mocking the teacher for showing such an old movie, those wonderful minds in front of me engaged in serious and mature conversation about what they appreciated and didn't appreciate about the film. I was so impressed by their knowledge of movies past and present. Later, when we got a chance to look at the original screenplay of the movie, those same exciting young minds had so many interesting things to say about what they thought worked and didn't work. I felt privileged to have a job where I got paid to share time with these people.
Last week, my favourite professor from my numerous years at univerisity passed away. Dr. Paul Beam ( and he'd hate that I called him "doctor") made me feel that I mattered. Among other things, he went that extra step in a very difficult time in my life to offer me opportunities in case they were right for me. In period three today, I did a tribute lesson to Paul. I taught a poem in the way that he taught me to do so many years ago. I talked about him in class, and I became him as I taught. My students went along with me as we "tore apart" a poem. I don't, of course, see it that way. And neither did Paul. We "unfolded" the poem, as if it were a rose given to us by our first love. I told them a little about Paul before we started, and I thanked him at the end of the lesson.
Then my class and I wrote poems. Tomorrow I will read aloud to them the poem I wrote. It's very personal--about my father and his slow decline into dementia. I hope that some of them may choose to read their own poems. If they don't, it will be okay. What mattered most was the tap/tap/tap of the keyboards as they feverishly created in response to Paul Beam's lesson today. Thank you, Paul, for seeing me as more than just a student. I will continue to try to do the same for as many young minds who come my way.
How much more can one person ask for in a day?
How much more can one person ask for in a day?
