Partners in Learning

When I worked in adult literacy, I realized quickly that a variety of reasons brought these students to our door. They changed schools one time too many, had no support at home, worked to support the family, had an undiagnosed learning disability...the list goes on. As children they often endured a combination of challenges, but I never heard "I just didn't want to learn." 

As part of our intake process, we asked about their experience with traditional education, which would help us help them learn as adults. Even though most of our students had left school before graduating, they could be successful by building on any positive past experience. They also needed help managing feelings of fear and apprehension, which tugged at most of them. A common question was, "Did you have a favorite teacher?" None of the students I ever talked to could name one. 

Although school wasn't always wonderful and I had my share of teachers I didn’t care for, school was still a positive experience for me. I remember many of my teachers fondly, some with full-on adoration. (I wrote about one of them last week.) Ever had a teacher you couldn’t stand? You butted heads, pushed and pulled, then fell in love? Me too. A gifted teacher is a precious thing. Give me someone strict but fair, with a sense of humor, confidence, and an open mind; these are all qualities I valued. 

I say this with the clarity of hindsight, though. I couldn’t put words to any of this as a young person. I only knew that if I tried hard enough, there was more out there for me. My teachers encouraged me and pushed me to see that. Thinking about those literacy students helps me now understand what a privilege it was to have had that experience. 

Did you have a favorite teacher—or two or ten? What did you love about them? 

One favorite teacher wasn’t technically my teacher at all. Many locals know and love her: Janet Tyson. She taught high school English, and I know I would have enjoyed her class. (English, duh.) But by the time I reached high school, she had moved into administration. I got to know Janet my senior year as I was sent to the office every now and then. On my first visit, I walked in ready to get hollered at again, believing the insults a teacher had hurled my way. She sat me down and said, “Tell me what happened.” 

And she listened to my answer. 

Then she asked, “Do you think anything you said might have contributed to the situation?” Possibly. And later, “What will you do differently next time?” Hush when I'm supposed to? She let me talk but also ensured I took responsibility for my actions. I still can’t believe how calm she was. She sent me back to class with a squeeze of the shoulder and a smile. I almost couldn’t wait to be sent to the office again just to talk with her. Almost.

I’ve crossed paths with Janet a few times over the years and she was never anything but kind and gracious and loving. I know many of us weren’t at all surprised when she entered the ministry after retiring from the school system. She is a literal blessing to this community.

I think of her and so many others now and then, but especially during graduation season. This time of year when we celebrate students and their accomplishments, why not honor their partners in learning? The teachers. From behind a mask or computer screen, they instructed, counseled, encouraged, and disciplined—all while keeping the learning space clean and safe. They navigated the wonders of remote learning by becoming their own personal IT department. These are also the folks who paraded through our neighborhoods last year to make sure their students knew they were loved and missed. Remember that?

I’m not discounting the struggle parents experienced when school was remote. It was hard, and I salute you! But, if you’re like me, you gained a renewed appreciation for the folks who work with our little devils angels during the school day. They deserve to be supported. Let's help them to keep doing what they’re doing--and at the highest level possible.

Teachers teach us how to read, to think, to question, to learn, to play music, to throw a ball... They’re excited for us when we master our multiplication tables or when we make the team—as if we were the only ones ever to do so. Teachers teach us how to be, which may be the hardest lesson we'll ever learn.

Thanks for reading.