I swear, kids have a sixth sense. They are, in my experience, the best judges of genuineness. Perhaps this isn't because they have a heightened sensitivity to malarky, fluff, and "winging it,"...no, I think it's because they're more willing to call you out on it.
Teachers have to maintain a delicate balance when it comes to authenticity. Those teachers who take themselves and their subjects too seriously alienate students who may be less than passionate about their class. However, teachers who are "super duper cool" may fail to demonstrate and express the relevance of their subject matter. Until you find the balance between these two extremes, you're either a jerk or a joke. An authentic teacher cares about their subject and their students equally; a particularly boring unit or a particularly unruly class can quickly making this equality a near impossibility.
Students can totally tell when a teacher is being "real" with them. An authentic teacher has a legitimate answer for the questions they should know the answers to, and a legitimate resource to find the answers they don't know. A huge sign of a "fake" teacher is one who comes off as a "know it all." If a teacher gives the impression that perfection is the only acceptable option, kids who know they can't be perfect will just quit trying. In the same way, a teacher who doesn't seem to know much or care much about their subject matter is "fake," too. Students figure out quickly which teachers they can walk all over, and most will use that to their advantage (i.e. turning papers in late, talking in class, getting off topic).
If students don't take the instructor seriously, learning doesn't happen. A teacher who makes students feel like they're never going to be good enough may discourage students from taking risks and trying new things. Frustrated students will just give up. A teacher who makes students feel like they're "just one of the gang" has established very little professional authority, and thus cannot effectively manage their classroom and student learning.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Dispositional Blog #2: Compassion
One of my best friends and biggest allies is one of my former teachers.
Jennifer Morris, former assistant show choir director at my high school, has made a huge difference in my life. She has been there for me both in music and in life...I've called her late at night in tears and early in the morning bursting with good news. It would probably take more than my fingers and toes to count the number of times my phone calls have woken her up (oops).
Our bond began one night at a show choir competition. I was singing a solo, my mic stopped working, and she kicked off her high heels, ran up the aisle, and handed me a different mic. After the fact, she was chewed out by our head director. I cried after the show that night...for hours. It didn't help matters that we suffered our only loss of my high school career that night to our biggest rivals. A couple days later I went into her office to thank her for switching my mic. Ever since that conversation, there's never been a doubt in my mind that she would be there for me when I needed her most.
Our friendship grew from a professional teacher-student relationship to one of mature adults. We talk about real issues. This past summer, when I got into a substantial fight with one of my parents, I called her and said "J-Mo, I'm coming over," and sat on her couch for three hours and talked it out. She shares my passion for working with children with special needs (in fact, we both worked at the same case management and therapy center over the summer); we often swap stories of "our kids." When I need musical advice, I call her first. She helped me decide which college to go to. We banter back and forth about love gone awry at Starbucks quite regularly. She hooks me up with performance opportunities. Basically, this woman rocks.
I think that the reason we're such good friends is that we're very similar. She tells me stories from college and the insecurities she experienced about her music career and I can completely relate to many of them. She's already been through everything I'm going through now, and her knowledge and support is invaluable. There have been a few days where her encouragement was truly the only thing that kept me going. She never tells me that I'm incapable of things...She'll be very honest about whether they're realistic or not, but is always encouraging of the things that I'm passionate about.
Jennifer Morris, former assistant show choir director at my high school, has made a huge difference in my life. She has been there for me both in music and in life...I've called her late at night in tears and early in the morning bursting with good news. It would probably take more than my fingers and toes to count the number of times my phone calls have woken her up (oops).
Our bond began one night at a show choir competition. I was singing a solo, my mic stopped working, and she kicked off her high heels, ran up the aisle, and handed me a different mic. After the fact, she was chewed out by our head director. I cried after the show that night...for hours. It didn't help matters that we suffered our only loss of my high school career that night to our biggest rivals. A couple days later I went into her office to thank her for switching my mic. Ever since that conversation, there's never been a doubt in my mind that she would be there for me when I needed her most.
Our friendship grew from a professional teacher-student relationship to one of mature adults. We talk about real issues. This past summer, when I got into a substantial fight with one of my parents, I called her and said "J-Mo, I'm coming over," and sat on her couch for three hours and talked it out. She shares my passion for working with children with special needs (in fact, we both worked at the same case management and therapy center over the summer); we often swap stories of "our kids." When I need musical advice, I call her first. She helped me decide which college to go to. We banter back and forth about love gone awry at Starbucks quite regularly. She hooks me up with performance opportunities. Basically, this woman rocks.
I think that the reason we're such good friends is that we're very similar. She tells me stories from college and the insecurities she experienced about her music career and I can completely relate to many of them. She's already been through everything I'm going through now, and her knowledge and support is invaluable. There have been a few days where her encouragement was truly the only thing that kept me going. She never tells me that I'm incapable of things...She'll be very honest about whether they're realistic or not, but is always encouraging of the things that I'm passionate about.
Frustration.
I sing too much.
My voice teacher informed me of this last week at my lesson, and told me that something had to go. In the words of the fabulous Sarah Webb, "oh, shooties." So I quit vocal jazz, per Dr. K's request. Broke my heart. Not a quitter. But it's all well and fine, they found a replacement, life will go on.
Here I sit. A week later. Still vocally fatigued.
ARRRRRGH.
These are the days that I wonder..."can I do this?" Broadway. Lights. Photo shoots. Fabulosity.
8 shows a week. Constant singing. Zero sleep.
Are some people just born with insanely flexible voices with unstoppable endurance? Are those the ones that are going to make it? Can I build up to it? Am I going to??? I sure hope so. But how can I get better when I'm putting myself on fairly regular vocal rest?
Hopefully this is a fleeting issue. Hopefully.
My voice teacher informed me of this last week at my lesson, and told me that something had to go. In the words of the fabulous Sarah Webb, "oh, shooties." So I quit vocal jazz, per Dr. K's request. Broke my heart. Not a quitter. But it's all well and fine, they found a replacement, life will go on.
Here I sit. A week later. Still vocally fatigued.
ARRRRRGH.
These are the days that I wonder..."can I do this?" Broadway. Lights. Photo shoots. Fabulosity.
8 shows a week. Constant singing. Zero sleep.
Are some people just born with insanely flexible voices with unstoppable endurance? Are those the ones that are going to make it? Can I build up to it? Am I going to??? I sure hope so. But how can I get better when I'm putting myself on fairly regular vocal rest?
Hopefully this is a fleeting issue. Hopefully.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Dispositional Blog #1: Respect
So, respect...a pretty important disposition in the teaching profession, without a doubt. If you don't have the respect of your students, they won't take your subject, or you, seriously. This opens up a whole new realm of issues: lack of control over the classroom, decreases in student initiative, and personal attacks on the teacher him/herself.
Respect is the recognition that someone has valuable information that you would like to obtain. This recognition generally manifests itself in kindness, comfort, and trust. Now to apply this to teaching...A teacher is respected when they are able to instill the value of their subject into their students. A teacher who wants respect needs to make connections between their subject and the "real world." Students aren't going to try at something that they don't find applicable to their own lives. This development of respect takes time. In order to apply your subject to each student, you have to know each student. Get-to-know-you activities are often lame and time-consuming, but they're one easy way to get to know your kids a little bit. In my experience, the most respected teachers are the ones who struck up random conversations before class started, asked "what are your weekend plans?" on Friday afternoons, and came to extracurricular activities to support kids in whatever they were doing. They acknowledged the presence of other passions in students' lives, took note of them, and brought them into the conversation about history or math or art or whatever they were teaching.
Take, for example, science. I am a music major. I was in band and choir in high school, and I hate hate hate hate hated lab sciences. A lot. (Still do...) Science and music rarely play nicely together, but my high school physics teacher always made it to at least one choir concert a year. He, seeing half his class up on that stage, thus knowing that there were many musical physicists in his class, relished the opportunity to demonstrate to us why we bothered taking physics. We did this really great unit on the physics of sound...frequencies, pitch, sharping and flatting, beating and intonation, why intervals work the way they do, etc. I walked into my first day of Theory I here at Luther, and, low and behold, I was assigned a chapter of reading on frequency and how it relates to pitch, sharping and flatting, beating, intonation, and intervalic relationships. I emailed my physics teacher that night...he read my email to his class the next day. Thanks, Hermon. You rock.
Respect is the recognition that someone has valuable information that you would like to obtain. This recognition generally manifests itself in kindness, comfort, and trust. Now to apply this to teaching...A teacher is respected when they are able to instill the value of their subject into their students. A teacher who wants respect needs to make connections between their subject and the "real world." Students aren't going to try at something that they don't find applicable to their own lives. This development of respect takes time. In order to apply your subject to each student, you have to know each student. Get-to-know-you activities are often lame and time-consuming, but they're one easy way to get to know your kids a little bit. In my experience, the most respected teachers are the ones who struck up random conversations before class started, asked "what are your weekend plans?" on Friday afternoons, and came to extracurricular activities to support kids in whatever they were doing. They acknowledged the presence of other passions in students' lives, took note of them, and brought them into the conversation about history or math or art or whatever they were teaching.
Take, for example, science. I am a music major. I was in band and choir in high school, and I hate hate hate hate hated lab sciences. A lot. (Still do...) Science and music rarely play nicely together, but my high school physics teacher always made it to at least one choir concert a year. He, seeing half his class up on that stage, thus knowing that there were many musical physicists in his class, relished the opportunity to demonstrate to us why we bothered taking physics. We did this really great unit on the physics of sound...frequencies, pitch, sharping and flatting, beating and intonation, why intervals work the way they do, etc. I walked into my first day of Theory I here at Luther, and, low and behold, I was assigned a chapter of reading on frequency and how it relates to pitch, sharping and flatting, beating, intonation, and intervalic relationships. I emailed my physics teacher that night...he read my email to his class the next day. Thanks, Hermon. You rock.
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