Today Mrs. Dahl’s classroom was part Magic Tree House and
part Keebler Elves. Every tenth
school day, Zero the Hero, a rapscallion of a superhero bear, drops off
zero-shaped goodies for the Little Darlings to help them learn base ten
concepts. Today he outdid himself
with hot-off-the-skillet pancakes.
And yes, I cooked them right in the classroom. Am I supposed to?
I don’t know. I just do and will deal with the fallout later (yes, I
know. I am a terrible role
model). The superintendent was
aware of my little restaurant. He
was standing in the cafeteria when I asked our cook for a skillet. “What do you need that for?” he
interrogated. “Pancakes!” I cheerily replied. A look something akin to meeting your
daughter’s tattooed and pierced boyfriend for the first time took over his face. “You’re not going to….” his voice trailed off into the forest
of Oh, Never Mind. He did not
finish his sentence because I think he decided he really did not want to know
the answer. Don’t ask/Don’t tell
is maybe not a bad way to run a school.
I was in the middle of serving some pretty awful,
lilly-livered “zero’s” (blame the Teflon.
I need my cast iron), when the teacher next door popped her pretty,
blond head in to retrieve one of my students for some reading time. My gaze found him at the table and I
nearly refused her. He sat there
so patiently, lime green plastic fork in his little hand, just waiting for an
albino pancake to grace his green paper plate. He was on the verge of tears. “My pancakes…” was all his soft little
voice could choke out. “When you
come back you will have some,” I assured him. I would have harvested the wheat and ground it into flour
myself in order to spare those puppy eyes rimmed with tears.
Later as I was cleaning up, I opened the main door to my
classroom and was surprised to hit a large, hard object. I managed to shove it out of the way
with the door, reached around in order to discover my obstacle, and my hand
found one of the ancient wooden chairs we keep in the hallway (ancient as in,
our high school science teacher remembers sitting in them in the first
grade. We don’t get rid of
anything around here). How in the
world did that get there??
My fellow teacher filled me in later. My little guy had asked if he could use
the bathroom. Yes, of course,
dear. He didn’t return and he
didn’t return. Concerned, she left
her class in order to go on a search and rescue (something primary teachers spend
much of our day doing). When she
stepped into the hall, she was touched by what she saw. That little guy had dragged a chair to
the door of my classroom and was standing on it, trying to see what was going
on inside. He couldn’t be with us
physically at that moment, but he just had to see what he was missing. The mental image of that is funny,
endearing, and heavy with meaning for a quasi-hippie, such as myself.
There is a caption at the top of this page that describes
why I named my blog The Humboldt Diaries.
It bears mentioning here. I
am an idealist, yes. I am
pathetically optimistic… guilty! I
border on Pollyanna Syndrome. My
hope/dream/goal is to educate as many children as possible with the required
mandates, but that is my starting point.
Beyond all of that I long for them to fall in love with the act and
process of learning.
Kids hate school.
Why is this? We all know
why. It is because school cannot
compete with play. The question
then becomes, why do kids love/need play?
They are hardwired for it, obviously, but the deeper answer is it
touches the parts of the brain that couple discovery with enjoyment. Are kids learning while they play? Of course! But they do not view play-learning with the same learning of
school. This is correctable, I
feel. I really do. Oh, I realize that classroom learning
will never be quite as longed for as recess time, I am so over that insecurity,
but I think it could be closer than it is now in general. Way, way closer.
So why isn’t it, Mrs. Dahl? (you may be asking here. Or maybe you're not and so don't care. I'm going to tell you anyhow...). There are several reasons:
OK, here’s my take on it. Doing research for grad school, I discovered that our
current education system is based on the factory model of the industrial
era. Think about it; we
assembly-line kids into groups according to skill (grades), we have breaks
(recess and lunch), we have a supervisor (the principal), and we have managers
(teachers), etc. This brainy idea
came from trying to launch the U.S. into the world market as a superpower. If the masses were headed to the
factories anyway, why not “train” them to be comfortable in that environment
while they are young? Yeah, that is
a GREAT idea. Let’s make them hate
their adult lives while they are still children.
We are still stuck in that model and it stinks. Kids hate it. Teachers, while comfortable with it, realize that kids hate
it and know it should be addressed.
But it is so entrenched in society that it seems to be here for the
duration. I hope not. I think it is time for a major
education overhaul.
Back to The Peeper.
When I visualize that small child on tiptoe, straining to
see what he was missing, this is the image I long for my students to
develop. I want them hungry to
learn for the rest of their lives.
Learning new things about our world and about life can be an
intoxicating drug. If you do not
feel that way, then your factory manager didn’t do a great job of selling their
product to you. I want to change
that, here in my little universe in the middle of nowhere. I think I can – at least to a very
small degree.
Where did I get my own drive to learn? I blame my dad. Ronald E. Miller (I always thought it
was endearing that he included his middle initial in his signature. Who does that?) Dad wanted to know about everything. He was educated, yes. And he was an educator. My dad was the principal of my
elementary school in St. Louis.
Yeah, it stunk. Every time
a kid got a detention, they sought me out on the playground, like I was vice-principal or something, and demanded to
know what was the big idea? Good
grief…
But he truly loved the journey of discovery and educated
himself on many topics. At the
time, I did not appreciate his penchant.
In fact, it was a little embarrassing at times. Do you know what my father liked to do
on family vacations? Take factory
tours. Yes, that’s right. The Miller family would join school and
club groups to see how things like, Corn Flakes were made. Real fascinating, daddy-O. My friends are lying on the
beach, flirting with cute boys, and I am riding around a golf cart train watching
bored employees watch boring machines.
Love it.
And when computers became available to the peasant
class? My dad was positively
apoplectic. He bought one of the
first available monstrosities that took up half a room and had the computing
powers of a toaster. But he was in
geek heaven. He took classes and
then regaled we poor captive audience members over supper with programming
lingo and the fabulous potential for such a machine. Yawn. That’s
great dad. Pass the potatoes.
But somewhere along the line, I too got turned on to the joy
of learning simply for the sake of gaining knowledge. For all my teenage complaining and angst over having such a
weird father, it stuck. I am
happiest when reading up on a topic that interests me, or hearing a bit of
trivia that is a little mind blowing.
I like science and anything nature-related. I like cooking.
I like fiber arts. I like
manipulating words to form sentences (obviously… I can never seem to bring these
posts in for a landing). I like
politics. I like murder
mysteries. I like history. I like the broad topic of
education. I like lots of things
and I like learning more about them.
You should see the stack of books on my nightstand. I could build a paper igloo with them. It goes without saying that I never have
enough time to read as I would like to.
I hope I never do. To
suddenly find that kind of time would mean I am out of things to do. Ick…
I hope the same for my students. Never stop running after knowledge, my Darlings. That’s biblical, you know. King Solomon said that very thing
to his son in the book of Proverbs. He advised
his son to treat Knowledge like a lover.
Woo her, cherish her, pursue her and she will always treat you well.
I hope I never forget the mental image of that little guy
straining to peek in, longing to join us.
It is a much more palatable image than my students chomping at the bit
to get away from this place. To he
and all the first graders that will pass through my door I say, “Join us!! Come in, be at peace, and let’s learn
about this amazing world we live in.
Feed your soul with the topics that interest you, and I will try to make
the rest at least bearable, maybe even enjoyable. Let it change you and guide you into a confident, polished,
intelligent adult who can be anything and do anything you set their mind
to. I will do all I can to help
you get started on your journey. Let's begin with really bad pancakes...”
Thanks, Dad….
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