02/22/2023
Tonight the pencil broke.
My beautiful blond haired middle schooler snapped her pencil she was trying so hard.
We’ve been working for weeks in a skill she may or may not ever master.
So many thoughts wonder through my head as she struggles to remember how to multiply.
Thoughts of co workers comments made in frustration race through my mind. They aren’t talking about my child today but one day they will.
It’s so much quieter when “x” isn’t here.
“X” is making me crazy today.
Not one of the finest moments in teaching… but real responses to frustration.
Consider for a moment what it’s like to be on the other side of the desk.
I hope “x” doesn’t call on me today.
“X” told me it didn’t matter if I learned this…
“X” told me to go to small group again.
I’m not smart.
I’ll never learn this.
It’s too hard.
I’m a failure.
It’s more than we ask adults to bear.
As an adult you can choose to walk away or quit your job.
You can move to a new city or learn a new skill.
A child is stuck.
Stuck with you.
Stuck with your attitude towards their abilities and disabilities.
Stuck with feeling less than when called to leave the room with teacher x.
Stuck with your frustration when they can’t learn fast enough or need more time.
Tonight my child feels the full weight of another teachers expectations despite her disability.
What if we showed grace, kindness, and sensitivity rather than disappointment and disapproval?
What if expressed high expectations as belief in a students abilities rather than a measure of what they will never attain?
What if teachers didn’t take it personally when a child struggled?
What if every emotion we communicated said I’m rooting for you rather than I’m disappointed by you.