Top percentage on a life test

My students performed “average” on the state testing that year.  I figured since I started with the kids that were the lowest in their class and the ones that had behavior issues that this was pretty good.  This was at the beginning of the “testing frenzy” phase and I was unprepared for the staff meeting where the results were passed out and discussed, giving high marks to the teachers who managed to have test results in the top percentages.  To this day, I cannot comprehend how that is a fair evaluation of the skills of a teacher.  I liken it to giving a person a dog to train.  Yes, if you have a certain breed of dog, it will be easier to train.  It doesn’t necessarily mean you are a better trainer if you are able to train a german shepherd better than another trainer can train a mutt.  So much of it depends on the breed of the animal.  I know there is some merit in being able to train a dog at all, but to evaluate the trainers on such unequal criteria is, in my opinion, kind of stupid.  So, it was at this point in my teaching career that I decided that I would always try to stay true to myself and the kids I taught.  I was pleased that the group of kids that were chosen to be a part of my “last minute” family performed at an average level and I never regretted for a minute the time I spent on activities that stretched them beyond the curriculum (funerals, operas, plays, etc.).

My second year of teaching regular education was at the same school but with a class of 18 second graders. I was pumped to teach one grade level and was psyched to stretch the kids even further beyond their comfort zones.  That is, until the open house two days before school.   I was at the door of room 108 to greet the kids and their parents as they entered the room to gain further information needed before the “official” first day of school.  A mother came into the room with her reluctant daughter.  She sat her at a desk and then asked to speak to me privately.

“Mrs. Tupper?  My daughter is supposed to be in your class this year, but I am going to try to get her with a different teacher and I just wanted to make sure you knew why.”

“What is your daughter’s name?” I asked.

“Jill.”

“Okay, why don’t you want Jill in my classroom?”

“Well, she knows that you do ‘plays’ in your classroom and she is very shy.  She doesn’t want to be in any plays or operas.”

I intentionally led Jill’s mother close to where Jill was sitting.  I looked at this small, pretty, quiet girl sitting nervously at a desk too big for her frame.

“Jill,” I knew the minute I looked in her eyes that she needed to be built up as a person and I wanted her in my class.  “Your mom tells me that you are scared to be in my class because of the plays we do.”  She nodded slightly as she looked at the floor. 

“Let’s make a deal.”  She looked up at me.  “I won’t make you do anything in this classroom that you don’t want to do when it comes to plays and operas.  If you choose not to be in a play or opera we are doing—that will be just fine with me, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed.  I shook her hand and told her I was looking forward to seeing her in two days.

Six months later when the kids were picking their parts for our stone soup opera, Jill CHOSE to sing the lead part.  She had built enough relationships and confidence within our class that she was comfortable with the limelight and pulled off a wonderful performance. 

I went back to visit that school 10 years later and met up with Jill’s mom working in the school office.

“Mrs. Tupper?  I don’t know if you remember me, but you had my daughter, Jill, in second grade.”

“Of course, I remember.  How is Jill doing?” I asked.

“She’s graduating this year,” she said.  “She’s already been accepted at Purdue University.”

“Oh my goodness, I can’t believe she is graduating already!!  Has she thought about what she wants to pursue?”

“Well, she is considering education, but you know how that can change.”

“Yes, I know.” I turned to go, waving goodbye to the other staff with whom I had visited.

As I reached the building exit, I heard my name again.

“Mrs. Tupper?”  I turned.  Jill’s mother was walking quickly toward me.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”  She said, touching my arm lightly.

“Thank you?” I questioned.

“Yes, thank you.  I don’t know if you remember how shy Jill was when she came to your class, but you did that little Thanksgiving play and that opera and it really shaped who Jill became.”

I stood there, my heart pounding.

“You know, Jill changed after that year.  She has been in plays every chance she’s had since then.  In fact, in high school she has been the lead in several plays and has had at least some part in every play they have presented.  I attribute her passion for drama to that opera you did when she was in second grade.  Thank you for that.”

“I just planted the seed.  You watered it by giving her additional opportunities and it sounds like she has worked hard to grow.”

I walked to the car feeling 10-feet tall.  One of my students had just reached the top percentage on a life test.  THAT is what teaching is really about!