As a new, young, and (I would like to think) cool potential teacher, I am used to students making me a bigger deal than I actually am. “You’re a college student?!”, “You’re so cool!”, “Can you teach me how to do makeup?” are a few phrases that I have heard a considerable amount of times since I entered the classroom during my first field experience. Needless to say, I loved it. I was relatable to the kids, and I think that’s what they enjoyed so much about me. Yes, I was their teacher, but I could also talk to them about the new Migos album, the occasional temptation to eat Tide Pods, and how sucky the new Snapchat update is. It is fair to say that I felt pretty secure in my student’s minds as “literally the coolest teacher ever.”
This semester started off no differently. I was still the same cool, relatable, and hilarious teacher candidate I had been for the past few semesters. Just like always, my students loved me. But, there was one student who just wasn’t buying the whole “cool teacher” thing. While the other students would flock to me to tell me about their weekend or show me their new phone, he stayed to himself, seemingly disgusted by it all. “How strange,” I thought to myself, “he doesn’t want to talk to me?” (I know I sound terribly conceited, just roll with it). I figured, “Maybe he’s just shy and a little introverted. I don’t want any of my kids feeling uncomfortable in my classroom.” From that day forward, I made it my mission to bring him out of his shell.
I started with a daily check-in. “Hey John, how are you? How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun?” He would always reply with a bland, “Nope.” Any attempt at conversation was always immediately shut down by him. Eventually, I tried talking to him about what the other students talk to me about. Their favorite sports team, what happened at the school dance this past weekend, I even complimented him on his new Vans. Nothing seemed to spark his interest. Until he came to school with a tee shirt with the band The 1975 on it.
Little did he know, I was obsessed with The 1975 in high school. I had all the albums, I went to one of their concerts, and I even own some merchandise myself. When I saw his shirt I complimented him on it as casually as I could. My compliment was met with a doubtful, “Do you even know who they are?” His response conjured up multiple emotions. One was joy. That was the most that he has ever said to me. The second was surprise. Was he really doubting my status as a real deal fan of The 1975? Regardless of my emotions, I knew I had to keep this conversation going. “Oh, I see…I have to hit you with some cold, hard facts,” I replied. I listed off my favorite albums and songs of theirs; I was sure to not mention any of the popular songs so that he knows I’m a “real fan”. I told him about the first time I saw the band live, and I even told him about why I like them so much.
I saw the look of doubt become replaced with disbelief by the time I completed my rant. I could tell that he was extremely surprised at what I knew. After a brief pause John responded, “So, you really got to go to one of their concerts? I wanted to go so badly and I never got the chance! Do you think they’ll tour again?” I was so relieved. “Yes,” I thought, “I finally found something that we have in common.” We spoke for about 10-15 more minutes about the band, the possibility (and our hope) of a new album, and my experience at their concert. That conversation set the tone for the rest of the interactions between John and I. No, he still did not think I was cool, but he now thinks I’m “not as lame as I appeared originally.”
I learned a couple of important lessons from my experience with John. The first is, you always have something in common with someone. No matter how different you all might seem, there is something that you guys have in common. It could be that you all have the same favorite soda, or that you all are both the middle child, or that you both just started watching the television series The Office (even though you’re extremely late to the party and everyone is constantly reminding you of that). I think that it is even more important to try to form those connections and relationships as a teacher with your students. As a teen in a middle or high school setting, having a bond with someone, even a teacher, is monumental in their confidence and comfortability levels.
I also realized and was a little taken aback by my need to have a student like me. Despite how happy I was to have finally gotten through to John, I realized that John thinking that I was a cool teacher is not important. John getting an education from me is what is important. As long as I provide a safe and comfortable environment for my students and perform my duties as a teacher, the other frivolous things do not matter.
Teaching as Storytelling 