Thursday, January 17, 2019

Out of Line: Education in the Halls

While I see hundreds of kids in class each year, I may see just as many in the halls, cafeteria, and other common areas of the building. While my relationship with kids who are not sharing class with me is quite different from those in class, I take it just as seriously. Some of my favorites students and those with whom I have wonderful (and sometimes long-lasting) relationships have never received a grade from me – and that’s just fine!

I make a point to greet people in the hallways. I say good morning or afternoon. I wish people a happy Wednesday or ask if a good Monday is even possible. When I am supervising the library, cafeteria, or other space, I work hard to get to know the students around me.

This is not just because everything works better when we know each other. It is also because learning and education take place all the time in school. The classroom may be the primary and most important learning location, but it far from the only one. Real learning is occurring every moment and, as educators, we must be aware of that and integrate experiences in non-classroom spaces into the general curriculum.

Often, I try to be just as playful outside the classroom as I am in the classroom. I will create spontaneous tag games and very lightly tap a student on the backpack and say, “you’re it!” While I am not really starting a game, it is a way to get a smile, help a student to look up from his or her phone, or to initiate a conversation. I have had a few kids who have made that tag game the basis of a long-term relationship, and that’s great! 

I joke with the kids in the hall who are engaged in a little public display of affection or clogging the halls during passing period that, “there’s no hugging in the halls, no happiness in halls!” By joking about what is going on, I get a smile more than a confrontation.

My own children often roll their eyes when I moo like a cow when caught in long lines. Yet, that is what I feel like when the stream of humanity has slowed to a trickle and we are lumbering along wondering if whatever is at the end of this long line is going to be worth the hassle.

I make it a point to check in with former students and other students in the hallways. I ask them if they are behaving themselves, and when they always say that they are, I act disappointed and say, “You never did for me!”

When they note that they saw me earlier, I point out that there are two of me so it might have been the other me that they saw earlier. This has two meanings. There is another teacher who resembles me enough that we are often confused with each other. On my free periods, I do run around the halls a great deal looking for teachers I need to talk to, making copies, checking in with counselors and social workers and others. So it is not unusual for people to see me several times. I joke that they saw my clone earlier and then I sing a variation on that song from Sondheim’s A Little Night Music, “Send in the clones, there ought to be clones, don’t bother they’re here.”

A student recently pointed out that I frequently ask kids in the hall, “how goes it?” For some reason, that phrasing was new to her. When they ask it back to me, I frequently answer, “It goes.”

When, during that moment in the hall, the student says, “I’ll see you later, “ my answer (with an ironic grin, of course) might be, “Don’t threaten me!” I joke with students who are eating lollipops that they are suckers and Mr. Barnum says that there is one born every minute.

When nearly running into someone coming around a corner a little too closely, I say, “Knock, knock” hoping we don’t knock each other over. I try not to take those right-hand corners too tightly, but people with phones are often unaware of their place in space. So I will steer right into the path of a student looking down at a phone and, when they look up at me, remind them that texting and walking can be dangerous!

I check in with students carrying bags of ice on their wounded arms and legs by appearing shocked and telling them that they killed their goldfish, “You aren't supposed to put ice in there when you win!”

What happens in the halls spills into the classroom and vice versa. A little joy, a little playfulness, a little connection in the hall is important. It makes a big place smaller and gives students one more friendly adult face.

Thursday, January 3, 2019

My Former Students Turn Fifty

I started teaching in the spring of 1986 at a junior high school in Evanston. At the same time, I was hired at Deerfield High School and I began that fall. I had just turned twenty-two years old when school started. This year and next, the seniors from my first year at DHS turn fifty years old. 

Yes, you read that correctly; my eldest former students are fifty. It is amazing that they have not only caught up to me but now are several years older than I am. Time is relative.

I was the youngest member of the DHS faculty for my first three years. There were only about seven of us under the age of thirty! Slowly, staff members my age arrived and by the early nineties, I was dating a DHS counselor and we had colleagues who were at the same stage of life.

Then one of my former students was hired at DHS. Then another. Then some more. They were not that much younger than me, and we were hiring a lot of people who had recently graduated from college. I had plenty of former students who were out in the working world and pretending to be adults. I was doing the same thing.

I got married. We had kids. My former students did the same thing and invited me along for the ride! Right after college, I ended up going to many of my friends’ weddings. For a while, I had frequent renter points at a local tuxedo shop. Just as that wave of weddings slowed down, my former students picked up the slack and I attended their weddings.

They were always one stage of life behind me. Funny how that works.

Remember, this was before Facebook or any other digital way to stay in touch. They would call me on the telephone (which was on the wall). I would see them when they visited their parents in town or had just moved into their first house.

In 2008, things changed. After the DHS welcome session with my incoming daughter’s counselor, a woman approached me and told me I had been her teacher. Her son was also starting Deerfield High School. Oh, no, my second-generation students had arrived in the building.

But they had not arrived in my classroom. In the next few years, half a dozen of my former students’ children became my hallway friends. Seeing their parents at Open House night was like traveling in time.

Meanwhile, I attended some fortieth and forty-fifth birthday parties, a few more weddings, and other events that made these ex-teenagers feel very grown up!

As I met with a student a few years ago, we realized that his stepmother was a former student of mine. Last year, a former students’ son was in the same class that his mother and I had shared many years ago. This year, I have many more. There is no denying it: my former students are old.

I bump into former students everywhere, but now I am as likely to see them at school functions as anywhere else. I have a confession: I love it. I love seeing them all grown up. I love hearing about their lives. And there is something very special about learning with their children.

Yes, sometimes I mangle their names. I am always grateful for a reunion that comes with a reintroduction. More often than not, I recognize my former students and remember their first names. They usually recognize me. This always surprises me since they are older than I am now.

And now the class of 1987 approaches fifty. The class of 1988 will do the same thing soon. Two years later, the class with whom I entered DHS will hit the half-century mark.

Sometime, I think we will all finally realize that we’re all the same age now.