To all Believing Teachers...

Recently, at a staff meeting the teachers were asked to share their personal mission and vision related to their profession as teachers. It was yet again a mirror into the soul of many.

Every teacher enters the classroom to execute the planned lesson and in doing so, unconsciously transfers her own vision through the interactive hour.

I have believed it to be true essentially with students as well. When my students were asked in person what they had to say about me, each one had a different response. When these reflections were conveyed to me, I wasn’t just overjoyed but was amazed by the discoveries that spoke much more about them then myself.

“She is always ready to listen. She never ignores what you have to say.” A response from a boy who lived with his Grandma. His parents were separated and lived outside the UAE.

“She never ever gives up. She teaches us over and over again till we get it. She’ll do it even if that takes 70 years!” Coming from a 10 year old girl who loved to perform on stage. She had a beautiful voice but often got in trouble with her family who stressed on the need for her to become more conservative with her manners.

“She teaches us more about life. She isn’t boring.” His parents would often cut me short when I would begin to speak about his great mannerism and character. They were only interested in his report card.

“She always encourages us to do what we like best. She allows us to share our favourite activities.” Before the parent teacher meeting, he would walk up to me with a big smile and say, “I already know what my dad will say to you. He will say ‘X’ wastes all his time watching YouTube videos on art.”

“She believes everything is possible. Even when we say, we should have three days holidays!” She would often put her pencil down after reading the question. The anxiety to answer a test was too high with her always. She would give up very quickly.

These were but a few students who shared their responses with the School Principal. As the Principal applauded my efforts, I was but surprised at how these children actually looked at me. I was awakened once again to the intense responsibility that I carried on my shoulders. Each one of them absorbed some part of me to fulfil his/her needs in life. I was an extension of their possibilities and opportunities that they though unconsciously, but very intelligently took heed to.

There is an energy that drives each classroom. It is charged with multiple needs and unspoken expectations. Amidst the lesson plan, there is give and take. And though the teacher’s mission and vision comes through strong, success is always going to be about the young visionaries.  

There are millions of teachers across the globe. Only one religion unites them. It is the faith in Conscience being Supreme. It is the challenge of setting the best examples, the best character, and the best human. The spirit to give without expectations of a reward. To believe that this world is in motion because of a few good people. Them being an extension of a few good teachers.

A standing ovation to all believing teachers.

“She treats us like grown-ups. She always says, “Do the right thing because it is the right thing to do!”

 

I am my only Hope!

The classroom was quite detached from the rest of the school on the first floor of the Primary section. Some parents walked in to drop off their children as it was a new school and a new environment altogether.

As “H” walked in I noticed that his mother was at his toes whispering and trying to assure him that it was going to be alright. The father greeted me and in that short dialogue figured out that we both were of the same country and shortly after that he motioned his wife to leave as he sweetly stated, “I’m not worried anymore,” translating his faith in me.

Quite soon I discovered that this tall genius was suffering from moderate symptoms of ADHD. A shadow teacher was arranged in view of pushing his performance and primarily to facilitate his completion of class work.

As a teacher, I’ve always worked on maintaining a cordial, motivated and inspiring learning environment for all the students in class. In order to achieve this, I made sure that every child in class was accounted for and enjoyed that celebrity status.

The discussions that often followed our critical thinking questions, were targeted around analysis, evaluations and creativity. I was happy to see the enthusiastic involvement of this child who always came up with the most unique perspective helping me understand that ADHD has nothing to do with the intellect which in these cases proved far more superior then others.

Like every other child in class, I applauded his deep thinking and tried my best to keep his spirits up. In a matter of a month, his essays began to indicate a dislike for the new school and class, particularly his classmates. Luckily at that very point in time, we were studying a reading story named “Going with the Flow” which taught about changes and what it takes to adapt to these changes.

He missed his old school in Pakistan immensely and wished to transfer back soon. I walked up to him one day and gave him some references from the story to help him accept this change in life and told him that his class mates were also very friendly and kind and he would settle in soon. As I looked across the class to win him some of their nods, I found the class response careless and cold. I thought to myself, “They probably need more time to sensitize themselves to this special needs child.” After all they were just 10 years old.

Term 2 was the hardest. The community revolted against a teacher who gave preference to children from her own community. I was called in by Administration on many occasions to give clarifications on being tagged unfair and unjust. I faced the hatred of some parents on meetings where they openly said that they would talk to the authorities to get me replaced.

This antagonism was tiring and there were days when I felt completed defeated. I loved these children a lot and strangely felt the strong emotion their side too, but it was controlled and cautiously monitored.

The essays of “H” began to resonate his dislike of the class with more ferociousness. He spoke about no compassion and no sense of responsibility. He created pictures of total chaos and anger. I reached out to the school councillor. She came in to the class room for a few observations. She spoke to the boy in confidentiality and reported bullying during break in the form of threats to hurt him and on certain occasions a push here and there.

Every morning during the home room period I spoke to my children about building character through adoption and practice of the different positive personality traits. That day, I decided to address this issue of bullying. When I questioned the students about the various incidents, I could clearly see the majority stand up for their community and deny any such occurrence. They spoke with insensitivity and a strong dislike for the boy. He on the other hand raised his hand impatiently to splurge his side of the story too. As I motioned him to speak, he said, “They have no respect for you or anyone. They push me and laugh. They don’t want to learn. They are never going to succeed in life. They are crazy and dangerous. That’s why, I don’t wish to stay here anymore. They will never learn. I really don’t know why you waste your time on them!”

The last sentence was a culturally sensitive one, spoken in sheer anger and disappointment. I calmed him down and explained to them as a class that we were a team and the survival of any team depended upon the commitment of each member to safeguard the rights of each other and feel safe and protected. On the front, the heads all nodded but I was still unsure of how to take the matter further.

The next few days were a little calm but then again, the childish wars began. Each time, I had no choice but to intervene and each time it was about standing by your community. The issue was beyond me and so I requested the school to handle it through their discipline policies.

Professionally I was somewhere and nowhere at the same time. I continued to work on their personal grooming addressing character traits the first 15 minutes of school every morning. I didn’t accept the swinging and talking during the National Anthem despite being labelled finicky and I didn’t give in to the pressure of becoming a little flexible with their nannies completing their homework. I crossed it with a zero and didn’t budge to change it otherwise.

My student grades escalated from Term 1 to Term 3 and the results I believed would be proof of my strong commitment to quality and progress for every child.

I was placed on a high pedestal as a teacher and there were strong indicators from management that I would be promoted towards planning and development to better structure the school curriculum. It made me happy as I felt that 12 years of teaching had given me enough insight to build on to plans that would help the children become independent learners and effective communicators of peace and tolerance.

Term 3 was eye opening. The class room stories of annoying him and her continued off and on and by now I could identify clearly the boy who created all this trouble. Sadly I knew there would never be a solution with the community rejecting anyone different.

I was called into the Admin office and informed that the pressure of the community was immense in regards to hiring a Pakistani teacher to teach an American Curriculum. There were parents sending in CV’s to replace me. They didn’t care about the academic growth of their child. They were not going to pay the high fee to have a Pakistani teach their child. I sat there trying to sink in the reality of the situation.

I was further informed that the ministry as well pressured the school in round about manners to hire native speakers to key positions and that pretty much summed up my entire year’s work for me. They felt I was an effective teacher and offered me the similar position for the next academic year.

I was deeply saddened by their stance on the discrimination. I had faced rejection on so many ends the entire year and I wondered if I had been a fool wasting my time on them as “H” had indicated.

 “They have no respect for you or anyone. They push me and laugh. They don’t want to learn. They are never going to succeed in life. They are crazy and dangerous. That’s why, I don’t wish to stay here anymore. They will never learn. I really don’t know why you waste your time on them!”

Somewhere I started to give up on this dream of believing in myself and my abilities to make a difference in anyone’s life. I felt it had all been a waste.

Engrossed in my thoughts I stood with my class in the assembly line watching these children laugh and jump around. Suddenly the bully of the class, a young local, pushed “H” hard and motioned him to move back so he could stand in front of the line. I reached out and warned him about using his hands or any physical contact. He showed his anger through glares all the way to the class. As soon as he entered the class he walked up to the chair of “H” and kicked hard.

I pulled him out in front of the class. It was the end for me. I asked him why he disliked the boy. He was timid in his responses and said, “There is no reason.” I faced the class. “Would you kick anyone without a reason?” There was a unanimous NO.

He quickly made up an excuse saying, “I was only playing with him.” Before I could respond to it there were a session of questions lined up by the children in my class for him to answer.

“Is pushing someone a game?”

“If you wanted him to play with you, couldn’t you ask politely?”

“You never play with him ever. What made you so kind today?”

“You always hit him and make fun of him.”

“Has he ever hurt you? He is kind, respectful and intelligent. You are jealous of him.”

It was a moment of accomplishment for me. The class had held a child from their own community accountable for his actions. They demanded answers from him and stood up with “H” who asked a simple question looking in the eyes of this local boy, “What did I do to make you so angry?”

The picture of this moment will stay with me a long time. I was a fool to give up on my dreams. And what was my dream? It was the entire episode that unveiled itself right through this testing year.

Change in attitudes is the most difficult battle to fight. But it remains the most important one in my life. For many, I may be a fool to return a teacher next year, but to me, I am my only hope!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Distorted Reflections

Reflections are important. They help us focus better and sometimes the distorted image can really awaken you to the need to work on the picture a little more. This doesn’t necessarily indicate that it’s an easy process or a reflex act. Often it comes uninvited and finds you unprepared.

It was a usual morning. The class environment was controlled and children were busy preparing for the lesson. It was a crowded space with 30 students, each one special in his or her own respect. I moved around the class room instructing them to clear their tables and get ready for the Daily Oral Language.

Students worked quickly to achieve their tasks. I was proud of my achievements with them comparing their abilities from the beginning of the term till now. It was one of those rewarding moments when you realize that all that effort and mental exhaustion you put in to develop a balanced relationship was absolutely worthwhile.

Just as we were to begin our lesson, the supervisor walked in with a few sheets in hand. I looked at him quizzically. He smiled and handed me the sheets. “Ms. Shama, this is a survey to be filled in by the students about their teacher. They should do it now and you must return it to me as soon as they finish.”

I took the sheets from him and he left. I looked at the survey. It had some basic questions with three columns to tick mark through happy, unsure and sad faces.

The questions were related to being satisfied with the teacher’s method of instruction, delivery of lesson, manner of discipline, tone of the voice and even way of dressing. I smiled. I could sense the answers from quite a few students and before I distributed these papers, I put up the objective for the activity along with my high expectation.

Objective: Study the form or survey on teacher evaluation and answer the questions independently.

High Expectation: Students will fill in survey with honesty maintaining respect.

I was filled with confidence. It had been an uphill task building a strong bond with them but being a teacher, it’s imperative to understand each other in a class room to work as a productive team. I sat down with absolutely no intervention in the process allowing it to be as fair as expected.

The students were still busy answering the survey when the supervisor entered the class in a hurry.  “Ms. Shama! I’m sorry this survey was not meant for Grade 5 onwards. Please take the sheets back.” I looked at him disappointed. It wasn’t a very big deal. “Sir, it’s okay. I’ll collect the sheets when they finish. They’ve started already so we might as well let them finish. I do want the feedback!” He didn’t look much convinced but we shared some trust. “Alright, but please ensure that these sheets are not left with anyone and that you collect them and dispose them in the recyclable paper box outside the class.” I agreed.

As soon as the students completed the sheets, I had to rush to my next class. I gathered the sheets in a bundle and squeezed them into a file to read later. I was filled with curiosity and excitement to get a feedback from my students.

The day went by and as I reached home, it struck me that I had completely forgotten about the student survey. I pulled the papers out from the file and settled in my bed to read their honest opinions.

“Our teacher shouts a lot. We don’t want her in class.”

“Ms. Shama teaches well but she is too loud.”

“I don’t like the way my teacher dresses.”

“She is an unfair teacher.”

“Our teacher is good but she is always angry.”

My world turned upside down. There were five students in my class who actually did not approve of me as a good teacher. One of them even ready to get me replaced. I lost my calm. My heart questioned my reasons and my reasons attacked my feelings. I was emotionally torn. It took such a toll on my senses that I woke up at 3 am in the night and cried my heart out alone in the dark. What was I thinking? These were students that I was specifically working with a plan to help them improve. We had exchanged many one on one meetings to set learning targets together and I was following up their progress with regularity.

“Our teacher shouts a lot. We don’t want her in class.”

The boy was a bully. Whoever sat at that table sided with his agenda to challenge the teacher’s authority. He often made negative remarks through the lesson and got a good scolding from me for being unappreciative of the learning opportunity. On a school field trip, he was the only child in class who did not have a permission slip to join the fun trip to Sega Republic, an arcade with games and rides. I asked him if he wanted to go and through pure dislike, he refused on my face. With a little persuasion from his friends, he nodded his head though he was concerned about his parents who had not paid for the trip. I got permission for him from home and was happy to have all the children with me to enjoy the trip. While at Sega Republic, the students enjoyed Mc.donalds as a meal and as I watched him eat, he came across as a child deprived of these joys of togetherness and freedom. He asked me for another meal. I gave him mine, not letting him know that I paid for him, finally understanding the issues that surrounded him. He was wary of love and trust.

The next day, in the English class as I asked the students a general question related to the topic being discussed, he started with his usual negative comments. I looked at him with disappointment. “Have you already forgotten the good times we shared yesterday. Is it that difficult for you to be thankful and respectful?” And for the first time, instead of an annoying smirk, I saw tears in his eyes. He was not ready for the question but I knew he was now ready to begin the process of conquering his insecurities.

Someday, I do want to sit with him and tell him to learn to trust people, to accept love wherever he finds it as it will help drown his misery and win him his freedom. But he is only 10 years old. I know he finds me challenging, but I know that it’s the challenge that will probe him to think and reason.

“Our teacher is unfair”.

He has no self-esteem. Torn between his parent’s preferences of schools he struggles to make either one happy. The father believes this school to be right for him, the mother disagrees and blames his low scores on the school system. That gives the boy a good amount of space to manipulate both and create umpteen stories to please either one.

I was called in to the Principal’s office along with this boy to answer some very tough questions. Though the Principal was aware of my stance on the situation, she felt it was important to clarify any doubts for the child. This 10 year old spoke bluntly on my face accusing me of being discriminatory in my teaching practices favouring a Pakistani student in my class.

For a moment, I got lost. Did I have a Pakistani student in my class? And then I remembered. He was a special needs student that worked in class along with the shadow teacher. I often made an effort to involve his responses in class to keep him engaged and involved with the rest of the class. I was surprised by this boy’s evaluation of the situation. He had convinced his parents of my differential treatment towards him. He often carried distorted stories home to pacify his parents.

As I explained myself to him I could sense a strange kind of maturity coming through from his side. He seemed to be enjoying my one to one session with him and apparently it turned out that anything he did was never good enough for his parents or his teachers. He wanted me to allow him to answer all the questions in class each time he raised his hand and wanted to share all his work in front of his classmates. He was desperately looking for approval.

I promised to give him more chances and I followed through with my commitment. One day I was collecting the homework and as I crossed his table I asked him if he had submitted his work or not. He said ‘yes’. I knew that he had not. I gave him some time to stand up and confess to his lie but he continued to ignore the opportunity. Eventually when I started to count down the names to the submitted sheets he felt trapped and stood up to blurt out, “Okay, I did it but it’s at home okay. I’m not lying!”

I gathered all my hurt. “I work so hard for you. I do everything to help you feel achieved and happy. And this is how you repay me? You lie to me and are dishonest. Are you Fair?” He looked devastated. He couldn’t hide behind any more stories. He always had an answer. But that day he was quiet. He looked at me silently, still no apology in the eyes though. I asked him to sit down and didn’t address the issue any further. He was completely shattered. He followed me around making unnecessary requests and asking unimportant questions just to start a conversation. I kept quiet expressing my genuine hurt through my eyes.

A few days later while setting few targets with students in an open class discussion, we pointed some students we really wanted to hear in class activities more. Then I looked at him. He smiled sweetly. “What do we want from A?” I asked the students. “We want him to be more honest!” The class shouted together. He didn’t lose his cool. Instead he smiled and said, “I promise to be honest.” In the exam, he wrote the most beautiful write up on “The most interesting English Class I had,” writing about the class he learned to tell the truth and become more responsible.

The survey opened my eyes to the fact that students don’t always understand you or your intentions. They can write the most hurting things while evaluating you. I could not ignore their complaints of being too loud and asked them to devise a discipline plan to transfer the responsibility to them. It didn’t work and failed miserably and eventually they learned to accept me as the loud mother! I sometimes dress up to meet the desires of a few students in my class who wish to see me come to school dressed as a rock star!

Children who challenge you, might find ‘you’ as quite a challenge themselves. A survey can be a great tool to awaken you to your students’ needs and help you improve your image or bring some focus to the distorted picture!