Teaching's twisted thougts.

Ahhh! Friday. There is a hysteria to this job. It is like a rollercoaster assembled by the deft hands of Chuck Jones. Winding spirals throwing gravity on its head as the cartoon existence explodes off the page only to reappear completely assembled at the exit ramp. I love teaching…I think. Maybe what I love is the chaos. Or maybe it is the organization on the brink of destruction that holds my interest.

I watch the kids on the monkey bars. You know, the one where you have to swing about 50 feet across a sand pit. The sand rests only about 2 feet below the feet of the children but for all they know a fall could impale them on the jagged rocks below. They swing and they strive to cross the great expanse of the playground. Some succeed with sweat dripping down their cheeks, exhaustion in their wrinkled brows and a tired smile on their face that breathes the meaning of accomplishment. Others get halfway through the challenge and dangle. For these children it is not a bead of sweat slipping down their greasy cheeks but a tear, the tear of a failed attempt, as they realize their demise is quickly approaching. They will fall into the gap that so many others have landed in before. This is a gap of forgotten children whose imaginations have created a graveyard of failed attempts that endlessly accumulate below the monkey bars. I love the chaos of school. Some days I soar and I am the child who has made the excruciating journey across the bars and am tired and relieved. Other days I rest above the stagnant death of failed attempts. I however do not let go of the monkey bars and am trying to convince my kids that they must do the same. We must always persevere, use our failures as moments to learn, and then strive again to reach our goals.

The line of children trying to cross the crocodile filled waters of the playground is endless. In my neck of the woods many land in the hole, this so called achievement gap, and it is huge, repulsively so. You can see the bodies piled on top of each other squirming, suffocating, and squealing for help. Maybe I can dangle above, grab a handful and bring them across to safety.

I am only one teacher, but I work with my colleagues for the benefit of the children. We can build bridges across the perils of the schoolyard and save more children. Collaboration, care, and concern will yield success. The children can see it. They know when we are working together. They are little people with feelings and sensations. They are smart. They can sense disorder as well as thoughtfully laid plans. When their leaders are united in a common goal of improving their prospects they will follow us otherwise they often end up in the turmoil stirring below the monkey bars. Teaching is fun. Sometimes it is fun in the sadistic way that some people laugh when someone stumbles on a banana peal, but it is also fun in the idea of the Adidas commercial that reads, "Impossible is nothing.”

Much love
Mr. C