First day of the semester. Back to classrooms, back to books, back to teacher’s dirty looks. Across from me in my first class sat a young man who doesn’t want to be here. He fidgets, occasionally rising to spastic jerks in his seat, as though to find some comfortable way to sit at his desk. His hat is on sideways, the music in his earplugs is audible throughout the room, he toys continually with his iPhone.
This isn’t one of my students, it’s one of my fellow students, a teacher-in-training. He’s an abysmal student himself, not only failing to take in the lesson at hand but positively interfering with other students’ learning. The prof does nothing to bring him in line, which speaks volumes to the do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do instructions we often receive.
And yet, if I’m to be honest with myself, I have to worry whether this will be a better teacher than I. He acts so much like a bored teenager; will he, then, connect with his students? Will he design lessons that really attack the adolescent boredom that is one of our chief adversaries? Perhaps so. Good teaching isn’t just a matter of coherent lectures, which I can handle; it’s a fluid mixture of instruction, entertainment, vigilance, encouragement, and mutual respect. Maybe this will make a good teacher. Maybe. Or maybe he’ll easily grow bored and frustrated and turn into a “captain video,†as my dad used to call lazy teachers who let educational videos substitute for lessons. For the kids’ sake, let’s hope he can harness his energy, rather than being governed by it.
Post a Comment