I don't like change. I always cry a little on the first day. It may be out of nervousness or maybe a little dread, maybe just being tired from getting up hours earlier than I have in months.
But I am reading this book, The Courage To Teach, by Parker J. Palmer, and he seems to be speaking straight to me, and those first-day tears.
Parker writes: "Unlike many professions, teaching is always done at the dangerous intersection of personal and public life. [...] a good teacher must stand where personal and public meet, dealing with the thundering flow of traffic at an intersection where 'weaving a web of connectedness' feels more like crossing a freeway on foot. As we try to connect ourselves and our subjects with our students, we make ourselves, as well as our subjects, vulnerable to indifference, judgement, ridicule." (p.17)
I always want to have the answers. The right answers. I want to be able to explain art. And when I explain art, not have a student writing a note or dozing off. Isn't that the vulnerability? Am I so dull? Is art so dull? Why am I unable to make the connection between the passion that I feel for art communicate to an audience of adolescents? And Parker makes the case that it is about knowing one's self, enough to survive that vulnerability, to live with and through it, and have that insecurity be something that helps you grow. And he doesn't speak of growing as a teacher; rather, one must grow as an individual in order to grow as a teacher.
It's very interesting. Makes me think quite a bit about what I am doing. And it makes me cry a little.
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1 comment:
ya know missy... i think that this struggle is particularly difficult with adolescents. most of the young children i work with are still open sponges, eager to know and learn, but at adolescence, something snaps! so i give you tons of credit for sticking it out!! `peg
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