A Grain of Sand

Classroom is microcosm for all of education

To See a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. - William Blake -

I think like an English teacher, so of course I see a parallel between Blake’s poem and teaching. Like Blake’s Grain of Sand, a classroom is a microcosm for the larger thing we call Education.

In this new monthly column for News & Views, I will share my grain of sand with you, confident that you will see a reflection of your world in it.

Geared with a teaching license and a sense of humor, I’ve worked as a substitute teacher in Madison for the last eight years. I’ve had the opportunity to observe and participate in a wide range of high school classrooms. Teachers have requested me in everything from PE to ED, and I’ve taught English, Writing, and Psychology to kids at Juvenile Shelter, East, West and Memorial High Schools, and college-prep summer programs.

I’ve collected teaching stories over the years; I’ve written them down and told them to rapt audiences; mostly, I’ve tried to figure out what these humorous, tragic, aggravating, and enlightening stories mean. I now believe that stories about public school classrooms are metaphors for America’s educational landscape.

As a substitute teacher, I take snapshot impressions of this changing landscape. An individual’s story is one of many.

• • •

A 9th grader who has moved 12 times in nine years reads at a 3rd grade level, but does not qualify for special education assistance; his teacher is responsible for 140 other students.

• • •

A 10th grader who has trouble concentrating and controlling his temper walks into my room and slams his fist into a metal cabinet. I ask him to walk out and come back in without hitting the cabinet. He agrees. I find out later his mother was an addict and he is a “heroin baby.”

• • •

I ask another 10th grader to put his Walkman away. He refuses and I reach to confiscate it. Even though we’ve spoken on friendly terms before, he raises a balled fist at me. It’s the only time a student’s ever threatened to hit me. I learn that he reads at a 1st-grade level. I don’t know if there’s a connection.

• • •

I have a curious conversation with a high school student. He comes up to me and says, “I don’t like you.”

I’ve never met this kid before. I look in his eyes and there is no overt hostility aimed at me; rather it is a matter-of-fact statement like, “I had the pizza for lunch,” so I figure it’s something else.

“You mean, you don’t know me,” I try. “

Yeah,” he agrees.

To him, it’s the same thing.

• • •

I’m currently working at a grade school with a reputation for high academic standards. Within seven weeks, six children I know of have had their “last day of school” at this school, almost one child a week.

• • •

A 5th grade boy with bi-polar illness has reacted poorly to a change in medication. He has difficulty controlling his behavior, and damages school property.

The other students are afraid of him and think he may be violent. The special ed teacher is invited to explain bi-polar illness to the class.

One student volunteers that he’s on meds; another shares that her sister is ‘hyper,’ and other stories start flowing.

Once students understand, they rally around the boy, join him at lunch, and act protectively around him in class and on the playground. They show me in a profound way what community is.

• • •

As the school year begins, two 2nd grade boys start at ground zero. They do not know the alphabet and letter sounds. They cannot read because of behavior problems in 1st grade. They have little confidence that they can learn to read.

A special education teacher starts a reading group with these boys. She has no experience teaching kids to read, but knows the magic of motivation. Within eight weeks she has cast her spell. The boys know their letters and sounds, recognize more than 250 words, and can read 28 emergent reader books.

One boy brings back notes from home, signed by his mother, indicating that he has read up to 60 minutes to his brother.

When the teacher admits she was nervous about teaching them to read because she hadn’t done it before, the other boy quips with supreme confidence, “That’s OK. You don’t have to be a good teacher. We’re smart!”

• • •

These are the stories I will share with you in this column in hopes that we can make connections through our common experiences. Please share your thoughts with me. I can be reached at the e-mail address above, or at WEAC News & Views, P.O. Box 8003, Madison WI 53708.

Posted December 3, 1998