“This is how we’re going to…”
Eyes scan the sheet, mouth slightly open. A sudden stop as the spoken and written words coalesce like the click of a combination lock. A subtle widening of eyes and flaring of nostils, and a whispered, “Yes!” cuts through my explanation and the ringing of the bell, just on time.
Why does it feel so good when students become excited about ideas we propose?
I realised very early in my career that we don’t all understand the value of something just on the face of it. I still catch myself naïvely thinking that my students will appreciate the amount of thought and effort I’ve put into preparing a lesson, a task, a unit, even a moment of realisation I share with them. I still carry this notion that they will always be able to project themselves into the future and see with clear optimism the potential of growth and learning that will be facilitated by something I have planned.
The reality, usually, is quite different. Sometimes it’s dragging them kicking and screaming, sometimes it’s beckoning gently to the edge of the pool, sometimes it’s carrying their comatose bodies through a jungle while waist deep in a swamp.
I often worry that it’s me. I think: I’m not explaining it well enough, I’ve overcomplicated things, I’ve made this too long, I’ve made some serious error of judgment, I forgot that class is right before lunch. It’s an odd niggle of nerves.
And so, when I hear a “Yes!” it’s like when I recognise my name in the middle of peak hour at the train station. It’s a moment of recognition, connection, a meeting point, someone saying “Me too.”. It’s a rainbow appearing, it’s stars aligning, the solar eclipse, Haley’s comet, Adam and God’s fingers touching.
It’s the joy of understanding and the spark of optimism saying: “It will be…”
