About Joy

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Time comes in all lives when a person says “That’s enough…I’m done…”  Turning off the tractor, closing the grade book, handing over the keys and walking away.

Point of this post:

Recognize when it is time to stop, to walk away.

You know when it is time, you can feel it.  Do not deny the hip, knee, or shoulder.  Do not ignore pain or sense of exhaustion. Growing old is serious business.

A number of issues forced me to retire from teaching, a good ten years early.  Pain took me out. Changes in state requirement were strangling teachers and education.

Mainly, joy was leaving me. 

When that joy is gone, it is time to stop, to walk away, and head to something that returns joy to you.

Have you done that? Can you do that? 

Eyes of the Student

I loved teaching, still love teaching.  When my health said it was time to stop, I turned away from the classroom.  I now have two granddaughters whom I love without end.  Still, I miss the classroom, the eyes of the students as they learn.  

The eyes never change.   

In the twenty years since my first group of students, I may not recognize them, but they recognize me.  

 When I see the eyes, I can call up the child-face these adults once had.  Suddenly we are talking about their lives and what they are doing as adults.  Some have children holding their hand, some are going on to school.  I don’t tell them about me, my life goals, because I am not and never was the important one:  the students were all that mattered to me.

Almost every night I have a dream about teaching.  Some are great, where we are on the playground or we are reading a grand book.  Others are not. 

In those dreams, the teaching situation is desperate, the classroom is an abandoned rotting shell of a building, and the students are scared.  So am I.  There are so many students with all sorts of needs and we don’t have enough books to go around.  Whatever learning happens is up to the teacher, because there is no other source.  I see their eyes looking at me, waiting, and that is when I do something.

Bolivia Road of Death

I never get to find out what I do, for the dream morphs onto something like driving a school bus along that most dangerous road in Bolivia.  Then I wake up.

It all comes down to the teacher and the quality he/she brings to the classroom.  Money can be thrown at the needs of the schools, but if the teacher does not have the freedom to teach, nothing will happen.
  

Newly updated, politically correct textbooks can be stacked along a wall, reams of lined paper can line the perimeter, and sharpened pencils can fill clear storage bins.  All are meant to improve learning.

But, if the teacher does not have the freedom to explore and fulfill the needs of each student, learning will dwindle to the bubbles on Scantron™ test papers. 

***This is a re-post of one I wrote back in 2011.  I loved it then, I love it now.  I miss the classroom to this very day.

Teachers who truly love teaching...

Built in 1917, I think, after country schools could no longer handle the growing numbers of High School students.  It became an elementary school when a new high school was completed in the county seat.

An elementary school located in small rural areas during the 1950s were a toss-up when it came to teachers.  Many elements affected quality and availability.

Teachers were often women during the 1940s who simply took a tests, demonstrating intelligence and understanding of teaching requirements.  After WW2 ended, some of these women returned home.  Others were of retirement ages anyway, they stayed for money's sake, but were required to upgrade teaching skills annually. Some were good and caring, but others rode broomsticks to school.

Our third grade class was blessed with one of a few very few special teachers: Mrs. Mary Ellen Willard.  Unusual in many ways, Mrs. Willard was well-educated, had a teacher credential, and much experience. Following our class, she taught for thirty-one years, mainly in our small rural town. 

Of the class of 15 students, there were three of us who whizzed through an entire year's curriculum in the first six weeks.  What to do with Scott, Patty, and me? So, what to do with we three?

Mrs. Willard, now I recognize in looking back, let us pursue our creative instincts.  She required spelling tests and math tests, but cut the string,  basically and silently gave permission to have at it.

Such set up a life-time of learning!  Think of all the other bright students who benefited with her approach to teaching!

May God bless Mrs. Willard and all other teachers who share her love for learning.