I don't know about anyone else but I am an inveterate storyteller -- and the stories my children love to hear (and the ones they actually REMEMBER) are stories from my childhood.
In these stories, certain characters appear over and over. My brothers, for example, 'loom large in my legend' (to paraphrase George Harrison). But the person who has my attention today was a teacher I knew many, many years ago. His name, as far as I knew it, was Mr. Chick and he was my teacher at Sharon Elementary school in Sharon. Massachusetts in 1976. The year is memorable for any number of reasons, not the least being that it was the bi-centennial in Massachusetts and that meant re-enactments of every kind. But it was also memorable because of the friends I made (Hi, Hilary! Hi, Martha!) and because of Mr. Chick.
My sons love to hear HOW Mr. Chick taught -- and really, anyone who teaches can take a lesson from him. He brought joy and excitement and an element of play into what could otherwise have been deadly dull.
For example -- we needed to learn the Preamble to the Constitution and the first ten Amendments. Many of my generation probably remember it from Schoolhouse rock and I admit, that did reinforce the Preamble for me. (Grin). But Mr. Chick had his own approach: He turned it into a marching chant. At the time, he was team teaching with Mrs. Borenstein and they shared a small building with two classrooms divided by a hall. He had us learn the Preamble then marched us out of his classroom and in through hers, shouting the Preamble as loudly as we could. We loved it... though I am not sure what she thought about it!
He did more than that though: when recess came, he PLAYED with us. There was a game called 'Four Square' which involved four players, a red bouncy ball, and a square divided into four smaller squares. Everyone in the whole school knew the basic rules but for us, privileged children of Mr. Chick/Mrs. Borenstein's class, we knew 'Chick's rules'. Perhaps my funniest memory of that game was the time Mr. Chick was playing with a bunch of us. He bounced the ball so hard that it flew out of control and hit... a school window. The crack was so loud that everyone on the playground froze. Everyone but Mr. Chick: "RUN!" he yelled, waving his arms and like obedient children, we fled the scene of the crime... Laugh. I do not know what happened with the window in the end but we were all quite pleased to keep his secret.
He took us on a nature hike once, out just beyond the school grounds. He had mentioned, several times, that we should stay on the path. Of course, once we were out in the green world, several of the boys decided to plunge off and explore. Raising his voice only slightly, Mr. Chick called 'And just watch out for Poison IVY!' The boys returned to the path faster than they had left it... I don't think anyone left the path after that. When we returned to the classroom, he taught us about Poison Ivy, Poison oak and Poison sumac. It was an amazingly effective lesson.
My sons' favorite story, by far, though is of a rather different caliber. Imagine a group of school children in the basement of an old school building. It is nearing the end of the year and the temperatures are rising. The room, dedicated to teaching children typing, is stifling hot and the young teacher (A separate 'typing' teacher had come over from the 'Big' school to teach us.) has thrown open the windows in an attempt to get some air in the room. All the children are melting, dragged down by the heat and no one, including the teacher, is getting much accomplished. Suddenly the door is FLUNG open and Mr. Chick, shining in the sunlight yells 'FLEE, Children! BE FREE!' He holds the door open and children, at first stunned, then delighted, flood past him into the outer world. A last glimpse of the wilted typing teacher shows her gaping at the scene, too hot to even think up a protest.
Mr. Chick taught but he did more than that. He shared joy with us and made the process of learning something more like play and less like punishment. He is no longer with us, and for that, I grieve. But he left me, at least, with a powerful memory -- of what teaching SHOULD be, how it CAN be done, and how truly joyful it can make the learning process. Thank you, Mr. Chick.
No comments:
Post a Comment