I define a mistake this way: If I had a chance to do it again, would I do it differently? If the answer is yes, than it was a mistake. Not all mistakes require me to beat myself up…some do, but not all. Most mistakes are just excellent learning opportunities. If I make a mistake, I hope to learn from it and move on.
I made a mistake the other day. I was closing out the last day of school. I asked each student to share what it was that they wanted for Christmas. One of my students, let’s call her Betty (and Betty, when you call me, you can call me Al) told us all what she wanted. I didn’t understand her.
At this point it is important to note that I have a certain amount of hearing loss from years of creating loud music. When a student says something to me, it can be difficult for me to understand. Factors like hearing loss and thick accents lead to things having to be repeated. When a students says something and I don’t understand it, I am immediately faced with having to make choices. Do I ask the student to repeat it? Do I pretend to understand and smile and nod? (“Mr. Harrison, you’re an idiot!” – I smile and nod.) Is the misunderstood comment important? Is it part of an assessment? I have to decide how to handle each incident of misunderstanding in a constantly moving, changing environment where I am often the center of attention of 24 children. In this case, I chose to ask Betty to repeat herself, because I wanted her to know that I cared deeply about what she has to say.
Betty is coming out of a period in language acquisition where she has been quiet. She is getting the language skills now to express herself in speaking and writing. While I was checking her science portfolio on cell structure, I made a startling and wonderful discovery. When Betty takes notes in class, it looks like a college kid did it. She writes down everything she sees on the board. She spells every word correctly. Her handwriting is perfect. Turns out, Betty is a worker. She has deep purpose. So, when I didn’t understand what she had said, it was important to me that I show her that it was important to me.
So Betty repeated what she had said before. I didn’t understand. Now, in the do-over situation, I would have smiled and nodded. (“Mr. Harrison, for Christmas, I want your teeth to all fall out.” -I smile and nod.) But I didn’t. I asked the class if anyone had understood what she was saying. In my zeal to show her how committed I am to understanding her, I had put her in a situation where she was embarrassed. Do you see how easy it is to make a mistake in my business?
Betty started crying. This is not what I had planned for the final meeting circle of the semester. I took Betty to my desk and asked her if she was crying because she was embarrassed that she was having trouble being understood. She indicated that that was indeed the case. I comforted her, and another student came to reassure her that most of the kids in the class have been in that situation, and that it would pass. Many of my students are English Language Learners. That is defined by the fact that there is a different native language being spoken in the home. Many of these students were born right here in Nashville. Many of their parents don’t speak English…at least not well. These EL’s, as we call them, have certain traits in common. Most of them are hard working, family centered, and bilingual. They often must act as an interpreter for their parents. They are a bridge between their parents’ country of origin and this new country of opportunity.
Well, the other student and I got Betty settled and the half day of school ended. I spent a little time beating myself up, which was completely unnecessary, but inevitable. I needed to run back to my house to get something before our Christmas luncheon started at the school. My car radio, tuned to NPR, was telling me a story about El Salvador, Betty’s country of origin. It wasn’t a pretty tale.
The reporter was speaking from the morgue. There had been 52 murders in 72 hours. We say “Appalling! Outrageous!” They say “Tuesday.” The details were horrifying. “If they find a head,” the report said, “that’s an El Salvadoran gang. If they find a dismembered body, that’s an El Salvadoran narco-trafficking gang, and if they find a body that was dismembered while the person was still alive, that’s a Mexican narco-trafficking gang.” Then came the stat that blew me away. “If you live in New York City,” the reporter stated, “you have a 1 in 25,000 chance of being murdered. If you live in El Salvador, you have a 1 in 14 chance of being murdered.”
1 in 14. That’s the reality that the people of El Salvador and Guatemala face every day. That’s the reality that weighs on the mind of every parent that put their child in harm’s way, into the care of a “coyote” just to get their child to the United States. Making it to the US used to represent increased opportunity. Now, for these children, it represents survival itself.
I don’t know much. I know that Betty is without parents here in the States. I don’t know why. I will probably never know why. But I know this: WE can all do better. Shame on Fox News. Shame on those people that lined up to scream “Go home!” to the children packed onto a bus. Shame on them for hating with such zeal that they ended up yelling at a bus filled with American students on their way to school. Shame on anyone who supports a school evaluation that requires Betty, and the many like her, to take a test designed for middle class white children to pass, and label her a failure when she does not. Shame on anyone who would use that “failure” as an excuse to hand over an institution (neighborhood school) to a private corporation to correct the failure. And make no mistake…When these private corporations fail at educating our children (and they will, I promise), they will move many of these children into our privatized prison system. How long will it take these private institutions to realize that they should get into the prison business? Shame on all of them.
Betty lives in my heart. She enters my mind so often each day, that I find her directing my efforts, informing my decisions, fueling my passion for teaching, and counting my blessings. Her uncle is a saint! She has never missed a day of school. She has never been late. She has never given me anything less than 100%. How can I EVER give HER less than 100%? She is one of 24 students in my class. They come to me with problems at home that I can’t imagine. But they also come to me with a sense of wonder, a thirst for knowledge, and a desire to better themselves.
I learn more from my students than they ever learn from me.
Stephen Colbert once described the US as a country of immigrants that hate the new immigrants. I say, “If your last name isn’t Running Bear, I don’t want to hear anymore about “your country”.
fedupteacher53 