When I Was a Younger Teacher
Testing the Teacher
Of the memories I have from the classroom, one stands out vividly from my first year as a teacher.
The school was located in a poor neighbourhood, where many students came from broken families. There were difficult cases in this school. Once, a teacher was beaten with iron chains by a student. On the other hand, some teachers lacked the sensitivity to understand the school’s context or its students. They wore leather coats and maintained a great distance from the students, which provoked even more aggressive behaviour.
As a Chemistry teacher, my classes were held in an amphitheater, and my desk was a long, large table. During one of my first lessons, a student named António, fourteen years old, who was sitting in the back row, suddenly stood up. Jumping from desk to desk, he reached my desk and stood very straight with his hands on his hips, like a bullfighter ready to face the bull. He was taller than me, and his look and posture were truly threatening.
I stopped the lesson and asked him to return to his seat, which he refused to do. Facing the class, despite my limited teaching experience, I admitted that I couldn’t continue and sat down. A few minutes went by—what felt like an eternity to me. The other students urged him to return to his seat, which he did some minutes later. I told him that I needed to speak with him at the end of the lesson.
After class, he approached me with a submissive look. I asked him why he had behaved that way, and he answered, “I enjoy putting my teachers to the test!” As we talked further, I learned that his mother was a prostitute, forced into that life by his father. Many nights he would visit his mother in jail and still have to attend school the next day. He constantly tried to bring his family together.
From that day until the end of the school year, António frequently sought my counsel and comfort. On the last day of the school year, he gave me a letter of gratitude, which I have kept all my life. He concluded with these words: “I seem to see in you the mother and the father I never had.”
Being a teacher is not only about delivering lessons but also about offering advice, counsel, comfort, and our lives.
- Isabel
Commentary: We may often ask ourselves, especially with difficult classes, “Am I right for this job?” But if we show personal interest in ‘difficult’ students, we may find the answer and be greatly rewarded.
Reaching Out
They say that most teachers remember their first class. I certainly remember mine. I was given a large class of nine-year-olds in a school with many children from poor social backgrounds, broken homes, and single-parent families. I had been warned not to give them any leeway, not to turn my back on them, and not to tolerate any nonsense. “Keep on top of them all the time; do not let up on your control over them,” warned the head teacher. I found the tension unbearable at times. They didn’t relax, and neither could I. I wondered if teaching was the calling I had thought it was.
One warm, sunny September afternoon, when most of the kids would have rather been outside playing, I had prepared what I thought was a great lesson. I was firmly in control as I wrote on the blackboard. Suddenly, a wasp flew in through one of the open windows. The pupils ducked and dived as it approached them. I feared losing control! Sternly, I kept bringing them to attention as I took a newspaper from my briefcase, rolled it up, and, without saying a word, killed the offending insect mid-flight. As I reached down to retrieve the wasp’s body, the silence was broken with, “I think that man deserves a clap!” The whole class clapped and cheered, and I burst out laughing. They did too. Suddenly, they realized that I could smile!
From that day on, I worked hard to reach out to that class. When choosing Bible stories for Religious Education, I tried to apply them to their situations—to let them know that God loved them, whatever their circumstances.
Early in the school year, one boy in particular used to come into the class before the bell “to put something in his bag” or stay after school “to help me tidy up.” At first, I dismissed him—told him to come and go with the others. But he persisted, and I began to have patience with him. He soon started talking to me about his friends, his family—or lack of one—and his wishes in life, or sometimes about football scores from the weekend. Andy came from an abusive background and had rarely experienced a normal relationship with a father figure.
Watching out for all the potential pitfalls, I became a listening ear for Andy, who opened up to me. He had been a disruptive student, especially during Religious Education lessons, but that soon changed, and his behavior influenced others positively. A complete stranger to the Bible, he loved the stories I shared and asked many questions. I often offered up special prayers for him and others like him, who had never known the real love of parents, let alone the love of God.
On my last day with that class, part of me was glad to see them go, as it had been a hard year, but a greater part of me was sad. Almost all were sorry that I wouldn’t be their teacher next year. Andy waited behind as the class left the room.
“I’ll miss you, sir,” he said. “You’re the only teacher I’ve ever been able to talk to. Thank you.”
It was then I realized that, as a Christian, teaching was indeed my calling—and that, despite the occasional struggles, it was what I wanted to do. Whenever I felt downhearted and wondered whether I was making a difference, I thought of Andy.
- John
Commentary: Teachers often remember stories from their first classes because something unexpected happened.
Ice-Breakers
I am a teacher of English and I started teaching when I was 19 years old (while I was taking my Bachelor’s degree). I remember the day I gave my first class. It was an adult class and many of the students were older than me, and when I started the class, they were very surprised because they thought I was a student too. They said, “What?? Are you the teacher? How old are you?”. I felt a bit uneasy but I was sure that I had chosen the right profession and I was determined to do my best and to somehow be a good influence to my students.
As an ‘ice breaker’, I decided to write down a sentence on the board every class in the beginning of the class. Some of these sentences were funny, some were famous quotations, and some had a Christian message. One of them was ‘Prayer is a stop that keeps us going’. We always started by talking about the sentence, that way they could learn some vocabulary and we could have a short discussion about different themes. We had a great semester together, we became very good friends and they seemed to enjoy the classes. After a while we lost contact but some time later some of us found each other through Orkut, a social network website similar to Facebook.
Then on my 27th birthday last year, I got a message from one of the students in that class. He said he had a present for me and then he wrote on my ‘wall’ every one of those sentences I had written on the board that semester! At the end he thanked me for inspiring him and being the best teacher he had ever had. He said that those sentences were very special for him and that’s why he kept them for all these years. I had tears in my eyes when I read that message; it was one of the best birthday presents I’ve ever received.
- Livia
Commentary: So much can be done through one simple sentence. Why is it funny? Do I think it is true? They have many aspects – not only an ‘ice breaker’, but also part of a ritual and they make use of our natural curiosity.
Low Achievers
My first teaching post was in a secondary school in Salford, Manchester. I was appointed as a Mathematics teacher and given a range of different classes, one for each year group. My class of 16-year-olds were ranked set nine out of nine. There were 18 in the class, two-thirds of them boys. I asked for the textbook I would be using, and the Head of Department, who was a Christian himself, told me that there wasn’t one for their ability range. They were all non-examinable as they were at such a low level of ability. He told me to start with finding out their level and suggested some simple arithmetic but nothing larger than the use of two-digit numbers.
I was extremely shocked and surprised that these young adults found subtracting 17 from 23 a very difficult task. They knew how to multiply by two and by ten, and a few of them could also multiply by five. I spent many hours trying to figure out new methods for teaching them the more difficult multiplications.
It was a truly humbling experience and a major challenge. I prayed each day before every lesson that I would know how to make them feel valued, that they would find a way through the work, and that they would experience some success in the class. Many of them were trying to be tough, but I soon found that most of them were simply seeking attention because they were rarely affirmed anywhere else.
Towards the end of the school year, the class had a party. As I was preparing some snacks, one of the boys came up to me and said, “Thank you for making us feel that we are worth something.” And I, in turn, thought, “God has answered my prayer.”
- Steve
Commentary: We all have the capacity to change people’s lives for the better. Let’s be humble and patient, and let’s continue to pray for the students we meet.
Discipline
This happened in 1971, my first year of teaching. I was a teacher of mathematics and technical drawing in a class of about 25 students aged 14 to 16. This was in a special school for problem children. It’s important to mention that during that time I was not yet a Christian.
Even though it was my first experience as a teacher, things were going well. I had good contact with the students. They were polite and did their homework well. Nobody caused any trouble during the lessons … except for one young man aged 15.
He was always in opposition, always disturbing the lessons, never did his homework, and even refused to work in class. All the time he gave the impression that he was angry, but he refused to speak about the reason.
The situation with him grew worse and worse, so I started to have problems keeping all the other students on the right track. One day I was really at the end of my wits. What I had learned in theory and methodology of education no longer gave me an answer to my problem. So, I called this boy outside to the hall. There, I slapped his ears several times (today it is my opinion that this is not the way to educate children, but at that moment I saw no other way out). Then I told him that he had to admit that in this class I was in charge, not he, and that he had no choice but to accept that. Then we returned to the classroom.
As soon as we entered the room, he became a different boy. He started to take an active part in lessons, showed more and more social behavior, and was polite and diligent. For lunch and dinner, he always asked to be allowed to sit next to me. He taught me how to play table tennis and then wanted me as his doubles partner (I should say that he was a really talented player, and I had trouble keeping the simplest ball on the table!). He also wanted me as a player in his football team. All the teachers were amazed to see the changes in him.
After that year, I had to move to another school, and I lost contact with him.
I saw him again about five years later while walking through the shopping area of the city where I live. He approached me – he didn’t notice that my wife Viviane was at my side – shook my hand and said, “I want to thank you for what you did for me. Unfortunately, it was too late!” Then he disappeared into the crowd and left me speechless.
I never saw him again – but the whole city heard of him only a few weeks later. He was arrested as a leader of a criminal gang and later sentenced to three life imprisonments for triple murder.
What did I give him as a student that nobody gave him before? Our relationship didn’t start with love, but with an act of violence. This act of violence showed him boundaries, showed him that relationships between people can only be built on what is called authority.
- Roland
Commentary: At the end of our wits, “unprofessional” but authentic means may be the way to meaningful relationships.
Defiance
I was a relatively new teacher, teaching relatively basic English to a group of secondary pupils. It was near the end of the school year, and it was time for their exam. I had just given them back the tests from the previous week. Most of them had not done well on the test, so I had prepared a thorough review, hoping that some of the weaker ones might at least pass the exam.
Fairly soon, I realized that Per, in the corner at the back, was not paying attention. He was reading a book. I walked towards him, and the book disappeared. This happened a couple of times, but then I stood by his desk and looked at the book – a chemistry book – and at his determined face. He was among the weakest in the class and normally a quiet, accommodating person, but now he had made up his mind. No, he wouldn’t put the book away. They should have a chemistry test the following lesson, and if he read more, he might be able to answer some of the questions. The English exam, he wouldn’t pass anyway, so why bother?
I tried to explain the importance of learning more English, the whole class listening by now. I was sure he would put the book away and do as he was told, but he wouldn’t. I was a bit taken aback. I told him in the end that this was an English lesson, and that if he wouldn’t do English with us, he’d better leave the classroom and go to the deputy head’s office. No, he wouldn’t move. In the end, I felt I had gotten myself into a corner and thought the only way out was to fetch the deputy, explain to him, and get him to take Per with him.
After the lesson, Per came back and did as he had been told. He said sorry and that he would try to work on his English.
- Signe
Commentary: It was good that Signe showed consistency and authority. The question is whether Per was more motivated afterwards. She could have been more flexible, could have listened to God to hear whether she should perhaps not follow the rules. Sometimes it is good to do what the youngsters feel is more important just now – e.g. give them all 15 min at the end of the lesson to review for chemistry test.
Educating the Teacher
It was in November 2002 when I began work as a secondary school teacher – directly after my practical training. I entered the classroom as the new teacher for the 19 pupils in class 8E. The atmosphere was good, and the pupils were curious about their new teacher. I did my best to prepare my lessons well, with challenging and varied activities, which the pupils generally enjoyed.
However, after about a week, unwanted conversations would start, initiated by a few, and then others would follow. How would the new teacher deal with this? What would happen if we did that? It became a small power play in which the pupils would see how far they could go, but, funny enough, they never went too far. They seemed to notice when my patience was nearing exhaustion, and then they would stop creating disturbances, but looking a little disappointed as they did. “Funny!” I thought.
It was towards the end of the day on a Friday that the class spokesman came to me and asked me whether I had noticed anything. What should I notice except that the pupils disrupted the lesson regularly? I looked at him a little helplessly. He went on to say, “What we would like to tell you is this: We like you very much, but we actually want to challenge you a little.” I was quite stunned by what he said. Surely it was my responsibility to impart knowledge to the pupils, and surely it was theirs to keep to the rules and to learn. Then it dawned on me – these teenagers wanted to be taken seriously as individual human beings! I had to laugh. I noticed at the same time how the tension of the situation evaporated.
The outcome was that we went for a “working lunch” over a Chinese meal together. It was the beginning of a wonderful relationship with that class. Of course, I still had to be strict. Three of them had to leave the school because of serious offenses. But from that time, mutual trust and recognition played a big role in our work together as a class. Four years later, when my wife and I moved to a different city, ten of them helped us with the move and held a farewell party for us. This is what can happen when pupils educate their teacher!
- Stefan
Forgive as Christ Forgave
As a very young and inexperienced teacher, I gained a position in a Catholic secondary boys’ school. This was not a matter of choice, but rather the place where I found a job. I went with entrenched assumptions from my Protestant background about what this place could offer me, and I was very much on guard from friends about not being “affected” by what I might see and hear. However, as I discovered, the people and place had much to teach me in many ways. This is just one small anecdote.
One very old Marist Brother would constantly remind the younger staff that all students deserved our respect, understanding, and forgiveness, as Christ had given it to us, totally and repeatedly.
In a Year 9 (14/15-year-olds) English class, there was one boy with whom I had great and constant difficulty. I attempted to apply many of the theories and practices learned from teacher training, but he was a match for them all! My attempts to make progress with him within the group and as an individual failed continually. Each lesson, he would aim to derail the process and unsettle the group, leading them into some kind of resistance. This continued for the year, and at the end, I described my time with him as a total failure. He had certainly learned nothing new about English reading and writing—creatively or analytically.
For the remainder of his time at the school, three years, we avoided contact, both verbal and even a smile, and I carried a real sadness that he would leave the school with a relationship left unresolved.
Four years later, he returned to the school for a reunion. He approached me tentatively and bashfully and engaged me in conversation. We talked politely for a few minutes, and it was time to move on. I was glad to talk to him, and as he moved away, he said words to this effect: “I am so relieved and glad to have this opportunity to see you, as I want to say sorry for how badly I treated you during Year 9. You may not realize that the reason I spurred myself on to more and more misbehavior was that I wanted to make you lose your temper and give up on me. But you kept on being patient, respectful, and always said please and thank you when giving an instruction. You never carried a grudge and gave me a fresh opportunity each day to be involved and learn.”
- Susan
Commentary: This, of course, is not my recollection of the events as often I felt extremely frustrated and angry. Our reunion was very moving and from this story I am reminded of two key and critical truths about teaching. Firstly, Ii we join a community we will receive guidance and inspiration from the least expected sources. Secondly, despite our weakness, if we rely upon God’s strength and aim to behave following Jesus’ example, we can be used, though we may never know this. It is grace that I was given the opportunity to find this out on that day.
