Never Not A Teacher

It’s the summer. The heat and humidity of the mid-Atlantic chase us to the nearest pool, beach, or water ice stand. Teachers aren’t teachers in the summer, right? It’s our time off, right? Student-free until the fall, right? Wrong!

Being a teacher is not something we just turn on and off at will, no matter how hard we try.  I can tell you from experience, being a teacher is as much a part of me as my brown skin and curly hair. It creeps up every now and then when I see a child rolling on the floor in a fit of rage in the store or when I am giving directions for someone downtown and repeat them twice to be sure. I witnessed a teacher, who is also a close friend and one of my brothas from anotha motha this past week at our church, in action!

This past week was VBS or Vacation Bible School at our church. VBS for us is a week-long event full of Bible lessons, fun, and games every summer. Add in food, crafts, and some hype and it really is quite exciting! As the evening’s activities wind down, participants are given an opportunity to recall for all of us what they remember from the lesson. One of the students was an 18-year-old young man with autism. One night as he was recalling what he remembered in class, he found himself struggling. Publically. My brother and friend, who was not this young man’s teacher, decided he would just softly shout out (is that possible?) key words or phrases from the lesson. The young man would repeat the key word or phrase and his memory would be jarred. All he needed was a word or phrase and he would recall the evening’s lesson and share it with us. This cycle continued for about 2 minutes or so; the young man struggling to recall, Andrew softly shouting a word or phrase, the young man recalling what he learned without hesitation or trepidation for the next few seconds.

I had a chance to ask my good buddy ‘Drew about it a couple of days later. I asked whether that was something he learned, supplying signal words, or whether it was just his teacher instincts. I was particularly interested if that was something he learned while working with students who have autism. He described it as his educator instincts having kicked in because he didn’t want the young man to be standing up there, stuck and embarrassed. It worked.

There are a few lessons we can learn from my friend and colleague. One, we should really get out of the business of embarrassing our students, not that this was the case with this young man. But, just in general, let’s chill. I get it. Sometimes we want to see who was really paying attention or we want to put a student on notice that we know they kept running their mouth while we were giving directions. Being stuck and embarrassed is not fun. Truth be told, that young man, or any of our students at school, could have given up and shut down. While the young man did volunteer to review the lesson, I think, his public struggle could have been the source of psychological or emotional trauma. Rebuilding that trust again could take twice as long as it took to co-construct it initially.

Another lesson we can learn is to take risks. Andrew didn’t know if his educator instincts would work. That not knowing did not stop him from trying. We have to be allowed to take academic and intellectual risks, the same risks most of us expect of our students. Fear of being wrong cannot paralyze our attempt at a strong effort. As teachers we should want to take those risks and school leaders should create a culture in schools where we can take those risks without fear of reprisal. The risk could work and if it doesn’t, okay. It didn’t work. Onward!

Maybe the most important lesson of all is that we are never not teachers, whether it’s in our formal role or in the way we go about our daily lives. We are teachers! It’s who we are! It’s what we do! Every single day we should strive to become better versions of ourselves! Who knows, you may be the next person to say something that could have a lasting impact, for better or for worse? *shrugs*