I've always liked little kids. I think that time spent in their presence is like drinking at the Fountain of Youth. I used to wonder (prior to getting immersed in the world of kids with my daughter's birth) how teachers could stand to give the same class every year. Some can't -- they get stale, or just tired. But many can. I'm thinking of one in particular, who was my daughter's third grade teacher, and with whom we were so delighted that we'd gladly sign up for any course she cared to teach. But there are more than just her, and I think what motivates them is what I've come to realize: the material may be constant, but the flow of minds is ever-changing. Some of the eddies in that flow are constant from year to year, but most vary, swirling in new and unforeseen patterns with every new class.
Today I realized that that stream doesn't stop at fifth grade. Fifth had been my mental cut off. Past that, they're still kids, but they're not little kids. Although they're still fascinating, they're also a bit more -- ordinary. But today, I realized that I was wrong, there. Because as they get into the fifth and sixth grades, what they're actually doing is changing into young adults. (I happen to think that's a prim phrase, but I'll use it anyway.) Which means they're developing intellectually and emotionally. (Physically, too, but I don't have anything useful to say there. I did ask my daughter if she'd mind stopping that for about five years, but she seems disinclined to do so.)
The occasion of all of this abrupt awareness was a color guard event. I went early so that I could see the drum line portion, which immediately precedes the color guard. Drum line is a bit of a misnomer, as its more percussion than just drums. I watched several schools go through their routines, and then I watched a couple of the color guards, as well. In between, I saw a bunch of kids milling around, either done for the day or waiting to start. I saw them kidding around, laughing, breaking into little dance steps as the announcer tested the music for the second half, and walking quietly back and forth through the gym. What I realized -- what I should have known all along -- was that these kids were unique, every one of them. (Whats the old joke? You're unique, just like everyone else.) They might have looked alike in a number of ways, but they all were doing the same thing. Growing. Right in front of my eyes.
I think I want to see if I can get more involved in this environment. Not to try to recapture my own youth. But to see if I can help these kids, when they want it, with theirs. And even if I can't -- I think I'm going to like these years.
2 comments:
I have to agree with you whole heartedly. Although I'm immerged in the early years of school (preschool and gr. 1), I like to step outside my own situation at times and be amazed by the idividuality of each child I come into contact with. We found an amazing k/Gr1 teacher too, and I'm going to hate when we have to move on to another.
I really enjoyed reading this entry in your blog. :)
Why, thank you! You're obviously a person of discernment and taste. (g)
We had one 'bad' teacher. She wasn't a bad person, or incompetent, but her weakness in scheduling style played to our daughter's willingness to cut herself more slack than warranted. The end result was that a kid who reads a couple of years above grade came close to failing Reading in that class. (That was the name of the subject; it was actually more like Fourth Grade Literary Analysis).
But that was the only one, and we got through it okay. (In fact, better than okay: my daughter developed some writing skill over the summer as a result of the regimen we put her through to make sure that it didn't happen again). I figure that weak teacher balances out the exceptional one -- and the average for just about all the others is very good --- they're competent and motivated.
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