This is one of those mails that keeps popping into my inbox [pasted in blue at the end of this post]. This morning a friend sent it with an endearing message: A break from pondering over social constructionism :))))))) An ode to the wonderful teachers and all the wonderful students!!
No one seems to know where these emails come from, who writes them and whether, indeed, they are really true. Sometimes we are warmed by them; occasionally, we forward them to friends who will relate to them; once in a while, we are moved to print them out and put them up. This particular one is especially relevant to people like me... people who have actively and consciously taken on the responsibility of helping our young ones grow up to lead fulfilling lives.
One of the most amazing exercises we do in the TIE Training Workshop is the "Characterization of an Impactful Teacher". It takes you back to your childhood and asks you to create any teacher who left a deep impact - a positive or a negative one. You have to eventually enact a scene AS that teacher, perhaps putting the others into role as students. And finally, excitingly, you are hotseated as that teacher. The exploration of this person from the past may lead to several revelations: how much of this teacher you have unconsciously imbibed and whom you emulate without an awareness of it; how this teacher had the effect of helping you make choices in your life path that led you to where you are now; when and how this teacher set off the sequence of events that made you who you are today. Many TIE trainees initially respond with, "There have been so many, it's hard to think of one," to which you sternly reply [much like Shelja, the mamma of FTC 1 and 2], "Choose ONE!"
Effortlessly, I can recall each and every one of those moments when my later choices in life were pre-programmed and foretold by certain individuals. The one who, in Grade 7, gave me a high mark for a creative piece, thereby fuelling my passion for writing; the one who, in Grade 8, set my math brain on track, her high expectations of us making me have high expectations of my students; the one who, in Grade 11 published a poem I had written for her class, and then included me in the elite editorial board of the school magazine - encouraging me to play with language rather than following grammatical rules; and then the lady who, in Grade 12, debunked many literary assumptions to awaken, forever, the love I have for literature. Not to forget all those teachers, friends (co-actors or partners in various drama-related nefarious activities including late-night set painting) and mentors who tried to train the actor in me... they ensured a future that would forever be devastatingly dramatic!
Whoa, hold on a minute... this is a sobering thought... am I then a social construct of the teachers who touched my life? And they too, were they social constructs of the teachers who....? And does the history of this construction project go further and further back into the past as far as one can trace it?
And therefore, am I involved, knowingly or unknowingly, in constructing bits and pieces of those who trustingly hold out their hands for me to lead them to... wherever it is that I am capable of taking them? Will one of them look back at his/her childhood some day in the future and say, "Hey, this streak of craziness I have in me... I'm sure I got that from Cathy!"?
Years and years ago when I decided on this career path I was not looking to change the world - ah, no, the world was too vast for me to try to right every wrong... even though I was Quixotic enough to "dream the impossible dream". In training to be an educator, I only wanted to change the education system, much disturbed by those who gave up all hope and terminated this particular life. This too was pretty large, and of course I became breathless speaking about how obsolete, irrelevant, harmful, stupid and senseless the whole structure was.
But then, here's what I seem to have been doing - sometimes consciously, but mostly unconsciously - I've been trying to change the world. And it's what every educator seems to be trying to do. To reach out to any possible future through those who will one day inhabit it - with hope shining brightly that it will be a future worthy of their talents.
ONE OF THE BEST STORIES EVER HEARD!!!!!!
As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.
Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.
At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.
Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around."
His second grade teacher wrote,
"Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."
Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."
After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her ‘teacher's pets’.
A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.
Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.
Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.
The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.
They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."
Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."
( Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)
Warm someone's heart today. . . pass this along. Just try to make a difference in someone's life today? Tomorrow? Just "do it".
Random acts of kindness, I think they call it!
Believe in Angels, then return the favor.
No one seems to know where these emails come from, who writes them and whether, indeed, they are really true. Sometimes we are warmed by them; occasionally, we forward them to friends who will relate to them; once in a while, we are moved to print them out and put them up. This particular one is especially relevant to people like me... people who have actively and consciously taken on the responsibility of helping our young ones grow up to lead fulfilling lives.
One of the most amazing exercises we do in the TIE Training Workshop is the "Characterization of an Impactful Teacher". It takes you back to your childhood and asks you to create any teacher who left a deep impact - a positive or a negative one. You have to eventually enact a scene AS that teacher, perhaps putting the others into role as students. And finally, excitingly, you are hotseated as that teacher. The exploration of this person from the past may lead to several revelations: how much of this teacher you have unconsciously imbibed and whom you emulate without an awareness of it; how this teacher had the effect of helping you make choices in your life path that led you to where you are now; when and how this teacher set off the sequence of events that made you who you are today. Many TIE trainees initially respond with, "There have been so many, it's hard to think of one," to which you sternly reply [much like Shelja, the mamma of FTC 1 and 2], "Choose ONE!"
Effortlessly, I can recall each and every one of those moments when my later choices in life were pre-programmed and foretold by certain individuals. The one who, in Grade 7, gave me a high mark for a creative piece, thereby fuelling my passion for writing; the one who, in Grade 8, set my math brain on track, her high expectations of us making me have high expectations of my students; the one who, in Grade 11 published a poem I had written for her class, and then included me in the elite editorial board of the school magazine - encouraging me to play with language rather than following grammatical rules; and then the lady who, in Grade 12, debunked many literary assumptions to awaken, forever, the love I have for literature. Not to forget all those teachers, friends (co-actors or partners in various drama-related nefarious activities including late-night set painting) and mentors who tried to train the actor in me... they ensured a future that would forever be devastatingly dramatic!
Whoa, hold on a minute... this is a sobering thought... am I then a social construct of the teachers who touched my life? And they too, were they social constructs of the teachers who....? And does the history of this construction project go further and further back into the past as far as one can trace it?
And therefore, am I involved, knowingly or unknowingly, in constructing bits and pieces of those who trustingly hold out their hands for me to lead them to... wherever it is that I am capable of taking them? Will one of them look back at his/her childhood some day in the future and say, "Hey, this streak of craziness I have in me... I'm sure I got that from Cathy!"?
Years and years ago when I decided on this career path I was not looking to change the world - ah, no, the world was too vast for me to try to right every wrong... even though I was Quixotic enough to "dream the impossible dream". In training to be an educator, I only wanted to change the education system, much disturbed by those who gave up all hope and terminated this particular life. This too was pretty large, and of course I became breathless speaking about how obsolete, irrelevant, harmful, stupid and senseless the whole structure was.
But then, here's what I seem to have been doing - sometimes consciously, but mostly unconsciously - I've been trying to change the world. And it's what every educator seems to be trying to do. To reach out to any possible future through those who will one day inhabit it - with hope shining brightly that it will be a future worthy of their talents.
ONE OF THE BEST STORIES EVER HEARD!!!!!!
As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.
Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.
At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.
Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around."
His second grade teacher wrote,
"Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."
Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."
After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her ‘teacher's pets’.
A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.
Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.
Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.
The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.
They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."
Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."
( Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)
Warm someone's heart today. . . pass this along. Just try to make a difference in someone's life today? Tomorrow? Just "do it".
Random acts of kindness, I think they call it!
Believe in Angels, then return the favor.
Excellent! That is the power of mentoring. We create stories and stories create us. It is teachers like you who enrich our stories that in turn make us.
ReplyDeleteThe Teddy story has been forwarded to me many times by many people. Yes, there are so many teachers who influenced me right from the second grade teacher who came for my birthday party, to Nirmalya who taught me Blake on the steps of British Council library! When I became an educator in an urban inner city school, I was warned by many about the "dangers" of working there. But I discovered that my little "sprites" energize me each moment of my day. They are certainly making a difference to me!
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