Teacher with a Capital T

When a teacher of nearly eighteen years has to approach her colleagues to ask, "What's your secret to getting these kids to work?" it's time to mix things up, especially when the colleagues reply, "No secrets. I'm at a loss, too."

Shouldn't it be that golden time of the year when kids know the routine as they strive to meet high expectations? Nope. Maybe it's that years of SOLs have left them giddy at the mention of a test that only assesses minimum expectations. It might also be a touch of 8th grade apathy--"High school's gonna be intense. Let's relax while we can." Or frankly, it could be that I've smiled at them too much. "What a nice teacher. She likes our jokes and stories. What's the harm in telling a few more? This essay can wait."

Well, those days are over. (Okay, temporarily suspended until further notice.)

The name cards came out this afternoon and the seating chart fell into neat rows that faced the front. You want to sit on the couch? Not without doing your work from the day before. Earbuds? Same answer. Are you telling stories again, Tim? Not without writing it down first, young man.

Sure, it was a drag not to smile as much, but each and every student got time from me today. One by one, I spoke to individuals about concrete examples that bring ideas to life, "making the magic happen" with sensory details, and assorted errors that are best taught to the ones who make them. 

All I need to say about the Teaching that went down: Nancie would be proud.