French Class

In my French 101 class, I have learned that it takes a lot of work to be a teacher.  My professor is from France and is super young.  When I first realized her situation, I figured that teaching us French would be a piece of cake for her.  After all, who knows French better than a native speaker?  I'm not quite sure how it slipped my mind that her native French-ness might be more of a hindrance than a help.  At first, she had a rough time understanding our questions, and we had a rough time understanding her instructions.  Everything is much better now, and I think she is a great teacher, but it made me remember something my sister, Bailey, said a few years ago.  Bail wants to be a kindergarten teacher.  When she was talking about it, she said, "Plus, college shouldn't be that hard.  I mean, you just have to know the alphabet and stuff because that's all the kindergarteners know."  I then explained that teachers have to be able to teach effectively, not just know the material.  My French teacher knows the material better than anyone--she's been living it for years!  However, until she learned how to communicate and teach effectively, we weren't learning.  I think this is an important lesson for all future (and present) teachers.

Battles with Babbitt

In my Music Theory III class, we have been discussing atonal music.  I don't know the depth of your knowledge about theory, so I'm just going to say that atonal music (especially serial atonal music) sounds awful.  It is basically music without any of the pleasant aesthetic qualities that music usually possesses.  Serial atonal music is very mathematical.  The composer is required to use all twelve tones of the chromatic scale without repetition in a single line of music.  A matrix (that's right, a matrix) is made based on this "tone row", and the entire composition must be created out of the matrix.

Most of our class times have revolved around us sitting and listening to different examples of atonal music, our gigantic, spiral-bound Burkhart Anthology of Music books open in our laps, small lines of drool slipping from our mouths.  As we sit in class and the strange noises are blaring through the large speakers in the choir room, I cannot help but imagine dozens of students--poor, innocent bystanders just lounging around J-Nobes--running out of the building screaming and covering their ears.  Many students in our class would probably be doing the same thing if they weren't concerned with their grades or their reputation. ("Have you seen that crazy, screaming girl running laps around Jensen wearing earmuffs?  What a weirdo...")  In class, some students talk about the beauty of the mathematics of the music and some of them say that atonal music isn't really music at all.  This leads to some interesting in-class "debates", which the rest of us watch eagerly.  As I sit there, watching the steam roll out of the Bach-Lovers' ears and trying to tune out the sounds of a boys choir singing diminished triads, I often wonder, "How does our professer deal with this?"

I mean, come on.  No matter how much our professor loves atonal music, it can't be fun trying to force-feed sassy students information.  How does she deal with the constant negativity?  And am I ever going to run into this while teaching choir?

After thinking about it for a while, I realized that I probably won't have to force-feed my students songs very often.  If my students really, unanimously hate a song, I won't make them sing it.  However, for every song, there are probably going to be a couple of students who grumble and roll their eyes when I tell them to pull it out of their folders.  What I have learned from my professor is that you just have to explain the value of the music and hope that, even if they don't end up loving it, they can at least understand the merit of it.  In our theory class, even the kids who hate the music can realize that a lot of time and planning goes into the mathematics of the music.  When I have my own class, I will make sure my students always know why we are doing the music we're doing.   Hopefully, they will become more tolerant of it through their understanding of it.  Maybe I'll even make them sing something atonal, just to drill this whole "tolerance" thing into their brains.
...
Just kidding.

Seriously, though.  If you ever find out that I am making my choirs sing atonal music, come find me and slap me up a bit.

Humility

I am often humbled by my stupidity, my ignorance, and my social awkwardness.  But I'm okay with that.  After all, stuck-up people are the worst.  The last time I was wrong was about fifteen minutes ago when I was studying for my french test and I mixed up "faire le marche" and "faire le menage".  (Going shopping and doing chores are basically the same thing, right?)  Earlier today, I spilled chipotle sauce on my pants, wrote down the wrong rhythm while doing a rhythm dictation, forgot to modulate during my ear training hearing, and told my friend to stop speaking in an Australian accent when he was actually trying to be British (that one wasn't entirely my fault).  I am wrong a lot.

I think teachers need to be confident in their subject matter.  They need to know what they're talking about and be ready to answer any questions the students have.  However, I think that, on a personal level, they need to be humble.  Weston Noble said that the best quality in a teacher is vulnerability, which I think goes along with humility.  These qualities, I think, help students connect more to their teachers because they can see that they're human, too.

Collaborativeness

I think that effective teams are made up of people who are willing to listen and consider what others have to say.  I think that the members of the team should be creative, interesting people, as well.  In order to come up with out-of-the-box ideas, you have to have out-of-the-box thinkers.  If you have interesting people who are willing to listen, I think there is potential for some great ideas.

In my experience, group work tends to be a group of people sitting around while one person does all the work.  I think of collaboration as being more of a team effort, where everyone has input and puts forth effort.

Efficacy

Self-awareness, confidence, persistence, work ethic, and belief in one's ability are all super important traits which all teachers should try to acquire.  I think it's kind of hard to lump all of these traits into one group, so I'll split them up.  Clearly, I have excellent problem-solving skills.  Here goes.

Self-awareness is an important trait to have as a human being in general, but it's especially important to human beings who happen to be teachers.  It's always good to know how you're perceived.  If students aren't responding to you because you're super lame, it's good to be aware of your lame-ness and do something to change it so they can relate to you better.

Confidence and belief in one's ability kind of go hand in hand.  They are both good skills to have, because people tend to listen to people who seem to know what they're talking about.  If students don't think that a teacher knows their stuff, they won't think that they have to know the material, either.

Persistence and work ethic good qualities for teachers to have, as well.  Students are not always going to have an easy time learning material, or they may not want to learn the material at all.  Teachers need to be persistent so their students will learn what they need to learn.

I think that all of these attributes are either learned or inborn. Belief in one's ability sometimes comes with time and experience.  However, work ethic is kind of something people are born with, although I guess it could be learned.

Inventiveness

I don't think that inventiveness and creativity are rewarded much in schools.  For the most part, students are instructed to complete worksheets that ask questions taken directly out of the textbook and tested on said worksheets.  They do projects created by the teacher with little to no autonomy involved in the process.  Conformity, not creativity, is rewarded in schools. 

I think this lack of creativity in schools is sad, because creativity is an incredibly important skill in the 21st century.  Employers are looking for employees who can come up with new ideas and solutions to problems, not employees who look up the answer in a textbook.  It is amazing to me that the American education system knows what employers are looking for, and yet does nothing to drastically change curriculum as it needs to be changed.

I think the best way to "teach" creativity is to incorporate autonomy in classwork.  Let students choose their own method of completing assignments or let them create their own project.  Teachers could also ask questions in class that force students to think out of the box--things that don't come out of a textbook.  If students are given more freedom, I think they will flourish creatively and become more productive (and interesting) adults.

Reflectiveness

I think that many teachers and students find it difficult to reflect on things because that kind of thinking isn't what we've been taught in schools.  We have been taught to fill in blanks on worksheets and to use "process of elimination" on standardized tests.  To just think about things and what they mean is a foreign concept to most people.  This is sad, because reflection is a vital part of the learning process.  Filling in blanks or bubbles with a #2 pencil won't necessarily help you remember things.  Thinking and reflecting on a topic will actually teach students.

Personally, I reflect on things all the time.  I don't really talk very much in class because it makes me a bit nervous, but I'm always actively listening and thinking about what we are talking about.  That's why I think that "class participation" is a little bit overrated by most teachers and professers.  Some students think and some students talk, and a few do both.  I don't think that any one of these catagories is better than the others.  But alas, I digress.  I think that effective reflection can only happen when a student has really been stimulated  by a lesson.  If they aren't interested, they won't want to put very much thought into it.

Passion

Passion is vital to being successful in any field, but in teaching it is especially important.  Passion can make or break a subject for a student.  I know that personally, I have had experiences on both ends of this spectrum.

In middle school, I hated choir.  I loved to sing, but I couldn't stand being in choir.  I would constantly watch the clock and I never seemed to be able to stand straight.  My body seemed to naturally align itself in a cool, slouchy pose.  I hated choir so much that, in eighth grade, I almost quit it.  Then, for some unexplainable reason, when I registered for my high school classes, I chose to take choir instead of band.  I really don't know why.  I loved band and couldn't stand choir.  None of my friends were joining choir.  I just took it.  It ended up being a life-changing decision.  My high school choir teacher was amazing.  She absolutely loved what she did.  She told us once that even on her worst days--when the kids were snotty, the tenors were sharp, or we were running out of time before Solo & Ensemble--she would, on a scale of one to ten, give her job an eleven.  She made me realize that choir is amazing, and because of her, I am a music education major.  Her passion rubbed off on me and almost everyone else who took choir.

On the other end of the spectrum was my experience with English.  I love English.  I've always been a bookworm, and when I was five years old, I taught myself how to type with my dad's Mid-State (Tech College) typing program and began to write reports on things because I was disappointed in the lack of homework given in kindergarten.  Needless to say, I was excited to come to high school and start taking harder English classes where the teachers would be excited about my love for literature rather than discourage me (like my sixth-grade teacher did when I started reading Jane Eyre) or think I was weird and a little nerdy (like some kids in my grade).  However, I ran into the same thing all over again.  One of my teachers picked on me for reading "difficult" books and suggested that I read the Twilight series.  Need I say more? 

While my bad English experiences didn't make me love reading and writing any less, it did prevent me from loving a class which I should have loved.  In my eyes, someone who is passionate about literature should encourage others to read, or at least be excited when they do.  And they should not encourage people to read Twilight.

Just Give it to Me Straight...

I am actually really excited to talk about authenticity in the teaching profession, because I think it is one of those subjects where most teachers tend to go to one of two extremes.  Either they put a wall up in front of students and think of themselves as purely a lecturer, or they (like one of my high school history teachers) talk about their marriage problems and their depression medications.  Apparently, teachers have a hard time finding a happy medium when it comes to being authentic.
I think the key here is to be real with reasonable limits.  You want to be yourself in front of your students because in my experience, students respect teachers more when they feel like they know them.  Kids can smell a faker a mile away.  They know when a teacher is being overly cheerful or when they don't laugh at something funny in class to maintain their "disciplinarian" status.  People tend to dislike people who aren't themselves, and less respect means less learning.
So how can we set limits?  When do we make the transition from being an authentic person who students like to telling our students about how Walgreens messed up the dosage on our depression meds?  Mainly, I think it's just common sense.  If you have problems, don't hide them, but don't talk about them incessantly either.  If the topic comes up somehow, maybe it would be a good thing to talk about what the experience is teaching you.  After all, students don't only learn math and music from teachers; they learn about being good people, as well.  Maybe you could help your students learn to find the positive side of bad situations. 
There are other tricky situations, such as telling students your political views.  I think it's important to be diplomatic.  Don't only tell students your side.  Show them the pros and cons of both sides, allow them to choose, and then tell them your own opinion if they want to know.  That way, your point of view isn't the first one they hear.

Compassion

My high school choir teacher is one of the only teachers who stands out in my mind as being great at her job.  She is hard-working, talented, down to earth, and compassionate.  I think that her compassion towards her students was felt by everyone who took her classes.  Her job title should have been "Choir Teacher/Guidance Counselor" for all the kids she helped.  Students came and talked to her about everything--friend problems, abusive parents, addictions, and even little things like tough homework.  She was always there, willing to listen and give advice when necessary. 
I think that compassion is incredibly important when you are a teacher.  Students should feel like they can talk to you.  I think that creating that bond can help teachers better understand their students as people as opposed to mere sponges, ready to absorb facts and equations.  By being compassionate, teachers can really help their students.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

I think that respect is extremely important in the classroom.  I'm sure Aretha Franklin would agree.  And this respect isn't a one-way deal--teachers need to respect their students as much as students need to respect their teachers.  This mutual respect creates a better learning environment for everyone.  I know that I have had personal experiences with teachers who I didn't respect.  My AP Lit and Comp teacher in high school (we'll call her Trixie) was a horrible teacher.  She gave us word finds constantly.  (As a side note, I would like to say that I hate the use of word finds in the classroom.  They are simply a waste of time with no educational value whatsoever.  Okay. Rant over.)  Trixie also had "Media Exams" on Fridays.  This fancy-sounding term basically meant that we would watch a movie and write ten sentences about it using some of our vocab words from the week.  And they weren't even educational movies.  They were things like Finding Nemo and He's Just Not That Into You.  And as far as the vocab sentences go, some kids wouldn't even use the vocab in a sentence.  They would just write sentences about Nemo or Jennifer Anniston.  I was disgusted by Trixie's teaching methods.  I mean, she was butchering one of my favorite subjects.  Not cool.  As a result, I put forth only the small amount of effort required to get an "A".  Clearly, respect is important in classrooms if even I, the girl whose only non-"A" grade was a "B+" (in eighth grade gym, of all classes) didn't care enough to try. 

I guess the real question here is "How do teachers establish respect?".  This is obviously kind of a tough question to answer, since many teachers (at least in my town) are about as respected as Richard Simmons.  (No offense to anyone who doesn't make fun of him.)  I think the key here is common sense.  In order to gain a student's respect, a teacher should be a fair and decent person who sincerely wants to know and understand each student.  The teacher should also be knowledgable in their particular subject area and should believe that every student can do great things.  While I realize that these ideas would not work for every student, I know that I would respect a teacher who possessed these qualities, and I think many other students would feel the same.