You might deride me as being the most callous of teachers for the way in which I continually berate and display the failures of my students (behind their backs, of course), but the truth is that I genuinely care about these kids, even if they spend most of their time expecting to be entertained and going out of their way to piss me the fuck off.
The highlight, without a doubt, is when a pupil has struggled with a specific problem or task and (brace yourself for a cliché of General Teaching Council advertisement proportions) the penny drops: synapses fire, their face lights up and something new is learned. Sometimes a connection to another topic or idea or theme is made voluntarily by the pupil; those are the truly treasured moments as they are a rare occurrence.
Sometimes, however, kids can astound you in how little they actually know. I held a test with a particular class just last week and while most of the kids were middling in their results (one managed full marks) there was one boy whose English happens to be lacking...hmmm, how do I say this? Flair?:
In case you're unable to read the text, I've transcribed it below:
"The potter make clays cuts hats.
He is wheel clay lump. He is wheel wheel wheel the clay lump. The is even clay. He is drow.
I like a potter."
As pitiful a display of English language as this is, I'm actually swayed by its innate poetry and how it makes sense in an obtuse sort of way. Imagine, if you will, this being included in an anthology of Beat poetry.
It would be the best entry in the fucking thing.
_________________________________________________________________
"No, mother, it's just the Northern Lights."
-D.
The highlight, without a doubt, is when a pupil has struggled with a specific problem or task and (brace yourself for a cliché of General Teaching Council advertisement proportions) the penny drops: synapses fire, their face lights up and something new is learned. Sometimes a connection to another topic or idea or theme is made voluntarily by the pupil; those are the truly treasured moments as they are a rare occurrence.
Sometimes, however, kids can astound you in how little they actually know. I held a test with a particular class just last week and while most of the kids were middling in their results (one managed full marks) there was one boy whose English happens to be lacking...hmmm, how do I say this? Flair?:
In case you're unable to read the text, I've transcribed it below:
"The potter make clays cuts hats.
He is wheel clay lump. He is wheel wheel wheel the clay lump. The is even clay. He is drow.
I like a potter."
As pitiful a display of English language as this is, I'm actually swayed by its innate poetry and how it makes sense in an obtuse sort of way. Imagine, if you will, this being included in an anthology of Beat poetry.
It would be the best entry in the fucking thing.
_________________________________________________________________
"No, mother, it's just the Northern Lights."
-D.
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