Rapport/Classroom presence
I didn’t take the ACT for the first time in seventh grade. I did take several advanced/honors classes in middle- and high school, and a few AP courses during my later secondary career, but I wasn’t counting on the additional credit to launch my GPA into the academic stratosphere. I was a high achiever, with demanding self-expectations, but harbored no death wish. I prioritized: advanced math and advanced English, left and right.
In college, however, I had to choose (…English) and have only occasionally coveted the less-abstract, more product-driven nature of math and science: disciplines with wonderfully definitive answers. Notwithstanding, when I found myself recently in H.M.’s pre-calculus high school classroom, I was uncharacteristically excited. It had been too long.
H.M. is a math teacher at Goshen High School and an excellent educator for a number of reasons. Like other outstanding teachers, H.M. is a clear communicator, enforces explicit classroom expectations, has high academic expectations for his students, and demonstrates effective instruction. But where H.M. really excels is with student rapport, the ease with which he banters with students, his dynamic classroom presence and the way he generates energy for subject that, for many, becomes so easily lifeless or lackluster.
“Sam, you haven’t contributed anything worthwhile to class, today,” he rejoined playfully that Monday morning, calling on a student to answer.
Need I even mention, Sam rose to the occasion?
Need I even mention, Sam rose to the occasion?
Pedagogical Insight/Content Knowledge
M.Y., the choral director at Goshen High School, is another outstanding teacher whose reputation justifiably precedes her. In fact, as a student teacher, I was vaguely aware of the prestige of the high school’s music programs, but failed to recognize the extent of their talent—thanks, in great part, to directors like M.Y.
I attended one of M.Y.’s advanced choir rehearsals on Wednesday, and even during the choir’s warm-ups found myself impressed by their mature sound. M.Y. is obviously an incredible director and an accomplished teacher, modeling extraordinary instruction, impressive content knowledge, and important pedagogical insight. M.Y. generates interest with a brief, musical-trivia question at the beginning of each class, projects the day’s schedule on powerpoint, and keeps the class paced to maintain energy. Students never dwell too long on any one piece of music. Sometimes, in fact, they will begin with one piece, move on to another, then return to the original piece.
Like H.M., M.Y. is dynamic and animated in the classroom and has obviously earned her students’ respect. Although I won’t (often, anyway) make my students sing, I can certainly aspire to the same pedagogical insight and content knowledge that M.Y. models daily.
High Expectations/Opportunities for Success
L.N. has only been teaching for a year—this is her second—and she handles herself with all the youthful energy and undiminished enthusiasm of other young teachers. Notwithstanding, L.N. is an expert teacher, one who genuinely cares for her students and who also demonstrates tight instructional and management techniques.
I observed L.N. during a low-level English lab class—a supplementary course for students who are not expected to pass their end-of-year assessment, and was thrilled by L.N.’s instructional and emotional approach to these difficult students. I was even impressed by the students themselves—the effort they put into their work and their level of personal investment. Frankly, I expected apathetic students, but these students craved success, affirmation. I can only assume a large part of their personal accountability is a result of L.N.’s high expectations. In fact, I think I was most inspired by the way L.N. believed in her students and the way she communicated that confidence, enabling likely-defeated learners to begin, ultimately, to believe in themselves.
Relationships
J.H. is a teacher in the World Languages department at GHS and has become a mentor to me throughout my placement. (I love being greeted by his subtly “French”-ified Spanish when I pass his classroom on my way to my own, and attempting to reply with own stilted—albeit enthusiastic—“bonjour!”)
I had the privilege of observing J.H. teach for the first time this week (a combined French IB IV and V class), and was unsurprised by my takeaway. While J.H. is a great teacher, I am most inspired by the way he nurtures incredible teacher-student relationships. J.H. takes a unique interest in each of his students and interacts with them in a deeply caring, thoughtful way. That morning, I caught the eye of one of our mutual students, a girl he has in IB French IV and who I have for English. This student looked at me across the room, and raised up leaf of coupons from KFC, giving me a goofy thumbs up. This student adores fried chicken, something J.H. picked up on, and passed along to me.
Those coupons? A promotion J.H. had apparently stumbled upon in the newspaper and brought in just for this student, placing them on her desk that morning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher do something quite so thoughtful, if for no other reason than that he knew she liked, or all things, fried chicken.
It’s the little things, they say.
