Travel and Living
Sunday, July 28, 2002
Thursday, July 25, 2002
A Typical Day
By Brian Totzke
As a high-school teacher, I have understandably become concerned not just about the future of our profession but the public perception of it as well. I decided recently, therefore, to take advantage of the so-called "spare" time that I have in my work day to take a leisurely stroll around the building and see for myself just what goes on outside my own classroom.
The first door I passed was that of a math teacher who was providing individual attention to a student who was quite obviously having some difficulty. The student's face said it all: frustration, confusion, quiet desperation. The teacher remained upbeat, offering support and encouragement.
"Let's try again, but we'll look at it from a slightly different point of view," she said and proceeded to erase the chalkboard in search of a better solution.
Further down the hall, I came across the doorway of one of our history teachers. As I paused to eavesdrop, I witnessed a large semicircle of enthusiastic students engaged in a lively debate regarding current Canadian events and issues. The teacher chose to take somewhat of a back-seat role, entering the fray only occasionally to pose a rhetorical question or to gently steer the conversation back toward the task at hand. They switched to role-playing and smaller groups of students chose to express the viewpoints of various provinces. The debate grew louder and more intense. The teacher smiled and stepped in to referee.
Passing the gym balcony, I looked down to see a physical education teacher working with a group of boys on a basketball passing drill.
"Pass and cut away!" he shouted. "Set a screen. Hit the open man."
Suddenly there was break in the action.
"Hold on, guys," he said. "Do you guys really understand why we're doing this drill?"
A mixture of blank stares and shrugged shoulders provided the answer, so he proceeded to take a deep breath and explain not only the purpose of the drill, but exactly how it fit into the grand scheme of offense and team play. A few nods of understanding and the group returned to its task with renewed vigor.
The next stop on my journey was the open door of a science lab where, again, a flurry of activity was taking place. I watched intently as a group of four students explained and demonstrated the nature and design of a scientific invention they had created. As they took turns regaling their small but attentive audience about the unique features of their project, a teacher was nearby, busy video-taping their entire presentation.
As I was leaving, I heard her say, "Okay, let's move the television over here and see how you did."
Finally, on the way back to my room, I couldn't help but investigate the roar coming from down the hall. Music blaring, feet stomping, instructions straining to be heard above the din. Dancers of every shape and size were moving in seemingly random directions, although their various destinations were obviously quite well-rehearsed. Good things were happening here: hard work, sweat, intense concentration. And then, a mistake. One of the dancers offered an explanation, which led to a discussion among several of them. The dance teacher intervened and facilitated a resolution. A half-hearted plea by one of the students for a quick break fell on deaf ears.
"We'll have our break when we get this part right," she called out. A brief pep talk imploring them to push themselves just a little further seemed to create some new energy, and once again the place was hopping. "Now, from the top..."
My excursion complete, I returned to my corner of the school and reflected on what I had observed. Nothing surprising really. It was essentially what I had expected to find: goal-setting, problem-solving, teamwork, critical analysis, debate, discussion. In short, learning.
The only thing that you may have found surprising, but I didn't, was that when I began my journey, the regular school day had already ended an hour before.
By Brian Totzke
As a high-school teacher, I have understandably become concerned not just about the future of our profession but the public perception of it as well. I decided recently, therefore, to take advantage of the so-called "spare" time that I have in my work day to take a leisurely stroll around the building and see for myself just what goes on outside my own classroom.
The first door I passed was that of a math teacher who was providing individual attention to a student who was quite obviously having some difficulty. The student's face said it all: frustration, confusion, quiet desperation. The teacher remained upbeat, offering support and encouragement.
"Let's try again, but we'll look at it from a slightly different point of view," she said and proceeded to erase the chalkboard in search of a better solution.
Further down the hall, I came across the doorway of one of our history teachers. As I paused to eavesdrop, I witnessed a large semicircle of enthusiastic students engaged in a lively debate regarding current Canadian events and issues. The teacher chose to take somewhat of a back-seat role, entering the fray only occasionally to pose a rhetorical question or to gently steer the conversation back toward the task at hand. They switched to role-playing and smaller groups of students chose to express the viewpoints of various provinces. The debate grew louder and more intense. The teacher smiled and stepped in to referee.
Passing the gym balcony, I looked down to see a physical education teacher working with a group of boys on a basketball passing drill.
"Pass and cut away!" he shouted. "Set a screen. Hit the open man."
Suddenly there was break in the action.
"Hold on, guys," he said. "Do you guys really understand why we're doing this drill?"
A mixture of blank stares and shrugged shoulders provided the answer, so he proceeded to take a deep breath and explain not only the purpose of the drill, but exactly how it fit into the grand scheme of offense and team play. A few nods of understanding and the group returned to its task with renewed vigor.
The next stop on my journey was the open door of a science lab where, again, a flurry of activity was taking place. I watched intently as a group of four students explained and demonstrated the nature and design of a scientific invention they had created. As they took turns regaling their small but attentive audience about the unique features of their project, a teacher was nearby, busy video-taping their entire presentation.
As I was leaving, I heard her say, "Okay, let's move the television over here and see how you did."
Finally, on the way back to my room, I couldn't help but investigate the roar coming from down the hall. Music blaring, feet stomping, instructions straining to be heard above the din. Dancers of every shape and size were moving in seemingly random directions, although their various destinations were obviously quite well-rehearsed. Good things were happening here: hard work, sweat, intense concentration. And then, a mistake. One of the dancers offered an explanation, which led to a discussion among several of them. The dance teacher intervened and facilitated a resolution. A half-hearted plea by one of the students for a quick break fell on deaf ears.
"We'll have our break when we get this part right," she called out. A brief pep talk imploring them to push themselves just a little further seemed to create some new energy, and once again the place was hopping. "Now, from the top..."
My excursion complete, I returned to my corner of the school and reflected on what I had observed. Nothing surprising really. It was essentially what I had expected to find: goal-setting, problem-solving, teamwork, critical analysis, debate, discussion. In short, learning.
The only thing that you may have found surprising, but I didn't, was that when I began my journey, the regular school day had already ended an hour before.