(no subject)
Touching story about teaching in my Educational Psychology book...
Preface:
The impact of teachers has been captured powerfully in works of fiction. The following story shows both the impact of teachers and the dangers of acting on negative expectations. It is adapted from a longer version of this story, available at http://www.saintjohnonline.com/centennialschool/cs_inspirations.html.
The teacher Miss Thompson, encountered Teddy in her second year of teaching fifth grade. He was dirty and had a strange smell. He fell farther and farther behind. She remembered:
While I did not actually ridicule the boy, my attitude was obviously quite apparent to the class, for he quickly became the class "goat," the outcast: the unlovable and the unloved. He knew I didn't like him, but he didn't know why. All I know is that he was a little boy no one cared about, and I made no effort on his behalf. I knew that Teddy would never catch up in time to be promoted to the sixth grade level. To justify myself, I went to his cumulative folder. First grade: Teddy shows promise by work and attitude, but has poor home situation. Second grade: Teddy could do better. Mother terminally ill. He receives little help at home. Third grade: Teddy is a pleasant boy. Helpful, but too serious. Slow learner. Mother passed away end of the year. Fourth grade: Very slow, but well behaved. Father shows no interest. Well, they had passd him four times, but he will certainly repeat fifth grade! Do him good! I said to myself.
And then the last day before the holiday arrived. Many gifts were heaped underneath our little tree, waiting for the big moment. As I removed the last bit of masking tape from the brown paper on Teddy's gift, two items fell to my desk: a gaudy rhinestone bracelet with several stones missing and a small bottle of dime-store cologne--half empty.
I could hear the snickers and whispers as I placed the braelet on my wrist. "Teddy, would you help me fasten it?" He smiled shyly as he fixed the clasp, and I held up my wrist for all of hem to admire. There were a few hesitant ooh's and ahh's, but as I dabbed the cologne behind my ears, all the little girls lined up for a dab behind their ears.
When all the students had left, Teddy walked up to me. "You smell just like my mom," he said softly. "Her bracelet looks real pretty on you too. I'm glad you liked it." He left quickly. I locked the door, sat down at my desk, and wept, resolving to make up to Teddy what I had deliberately deprived him of--a teacher who cared. I stayed every afternoon with Teddy from the end of holidays until the last day of school. Sometimes we worked together. Sometimes he worked alone while I drew up lesson plans or graded papers. Slowly but surely he caught up with the rest of the class. In fact, his final everages were among the highest in the class.
I did not hear from Teddy until seven years later, when his first letter appeared in my mailbox.
"Dear Miss Thompson, I just wanted you to be the first to know, I will be graduating second in my class next month.
Very Truly Yours, Teddy Stallard"
Four years later, Teddy's second letter came.
"Dear Miss Thompson, I wanted yo to be the first to know. I was just informed that I will be graduating first in my class. The university has not been easy, but I liked it.
Very Truly Yours, Teddy Stallard"
And now today, Teddy's third letter.
"Dear Miss Thompson, I wanted you to be the first to know. As of today I am Theodore Stallard, M.D. How about that!!?? I'm going to be married in July, the 27th, to be exact. I wanted to ask if you could come and sit where Mom would sit if she were here. I'll have no family there as Dad died last year.
Very Truly Yours, Teddy Stallard"
Preface:
The impact of teachers has been captured powerfully in works of fiction. The following story shows both the impact of teachers and the dangers of acting on negative expectations. It is adapted from a longer version of this story, available at http://www.saintjohnonline.com/centennialschool/cs_inspirations.html.
The teacher Miss Thompson, encountered Teddy in her second year of teaching fifth grade. He was dirty and had a strange smell. He fell farther and farther behind. She remembered:
While I did not actually ridicule the boy, my attitude was obviously quite apparent to the class, for he quickly became the class "goat," the outcast: the unlovable and the unloved. He knew I didn't like him, but he didn't know why. All I know is that he was a little boy no one cared about, and I made no effort on his behalf. I knew that Teddy would never catch up in time to be promoted to the sixth grade level. To justify myself, I went to his cumulative folder. First grade: Teddy shows promise by work and attitude, but has poor home situation. Second grade: Teddy could do better. Mother terminally ill. He receives little help at home. Third grade: Teddy is a pleasant boy. Helpful, but too serious. Slow learner. Mother passed away end of the year. Fourth grade: Very slow, but well behaved. Father shows no interest. Well, they had passd him four times, but he will certainly repeat fifth grade! Do him good! I said to myself.
And then the last day before the holiday arrived. Many gifts were heaped underneath our little tree, waiting for the big moment. As I removed the last bit of masking tape from the brown paper on Teddy's gift, two items fell to my desk: a gaudy rhinestone bracelet with several stones missing and a small bottle of dime-store cologne--half empty.
I could hear the snickers and whispers as I placed the braelet on my wrist. "Teddy, would you help me fasten it?" He smiled shyly as he fixed the clasp, and I held up my wrist for all of hem to admire. There were a few hesitant ooh's and ahh's, but as I dabbed the cologne behind my ears, all the little girls lined up for a dab behind their ears.
When all the students had left, Teddy walked up to me. "You smell just like my mom," he said softly. "Her bracelet looks real pretty on you too. I'm glad you liked it." He left quickly. I locked the door, sat down at my desk, and wept, resolving to make up to Teddy what I had deliberately deprived him of--a teacher who cared. I stayed every afternoon with Teddy from the end of holidays until the last day of school. Sometimes we worked together. Sometimes he worked alone while I drew up lesson plans or graded papers. Slowly but surely he caught up with the rest of the class. In fact, his final everages were among the highest in the class.
I did not hear from Teddy until seven years later, when his first letter appeared in my mailbox.
"Dear Miss Thompson, I just wanted you to be the first to know, I will be graduating second in my class next month.
Very Truly Yours, Teddy Stallard"
Four years later, Teddy's second letter came.
"Dear Miss Thompson, I wanted yo to be the first to know. I was just informed that I will be graduating first in my class. The university has not been easy, but I liked it.
Very Truly Yours, Teddy Stallard"
And now today, Teddy's third letter.
"Dear Miss Thompson, I wanted you to be the first to know. As of today I am Theodore Stallard, M.D. How about that!!?? I'm going to be married in July, the 27th, to be exact. I wanted to ask if you could come and sit where Mom would sit if she were here. I'll have no family there as Dad died last year.
Very Truly Yours, Teddy Stallard"