Kinesthetics + Moral Support = Happier Me

After spending over half of my Saturday in my classroom, cleaning out old materials, putting up colorful decorations, and organizing my desk and other supplies, I feel much more ready to take on the first day of school.

As I was moving around my room, getting the sense of it, imagining myself teaching in there this upcoming year, I realized that it was this concrete imagining—actually being able to SEE myself teaching in THIS specific space—that was making all the difference in my anxiety level (it’s lower than it was last week, but still above baseline). Then it occurred to me: I have never been a particularly kinesthetic learner. Even when training in karate, I always found it more helpful to define the movements and concepts linguistically, as opposed to just observing my instructor and then imitating him or her. But when it comes to teaching, I find myself to be VERY kinesthetic. If I can’t move around, manipulate things, get a sense of my physical space and the things in the room I can touch and interact with, I have a much harder time visualizing teaching at all, much less teaching a specific lesson. And if I can’t visualize it ahead of time, the lesson suffers.

Educators these days either preach about Robert Gardner’s theory of “multiple intelligences” (linguistic, bodily-kinesthetic, logical-mathematical, musical, spatial, interpersonal, and intrapersonal) or spend many professional development hours listening to such preaching. “Make sure your lesson plans address the different modalities of learning!” is not only a popular catchphrase, it’s a requirement—implicit or explicit—in some districts.

But I never hear anyone preaching about the other side of the coin, how a teacher can best teach. The assumption is that most teachers, if left to their own devices, will simply talk too much, and lecture the students into boredom. I know that I have been guilty of this current cardinal sin of teaching enough times in the past to make me rather sheepish when the subject is brought up. But I am rarely, if ever, completely still in the classroom. I like to move around. I move back and forth in front of the blackboard, trying to infuse whatever I write on it with the same enthusiasm I feel about my subject. Even if I’m more or less stuck next to an overhead, I still move around as much as possible. I don’t particularly like overhead projectors because I have to keep my writing on the transparencies small—i.e. normal and unexciting—and I can’t move around as much. I like to walk around the classroom, getting closer to students to help them feel and share my interest in the story we are reading (and it’s a good classroom management tactic, too).

Current educational theory is much invested in Gardner’s theories. But only as they apply to students. I wonder how much better I could make that all-important first day of school if I had known, from the last day of school last year, or even from the beginning of August, or with only a week before school started, what room I’d be teaching in, and what resources I would have access to; if I had been able to spend more time getting the FEEL of my classroom, that kinesthetic connection that I find essential to my teaching. I wonder if other teachers feel the same way. This is a subject that NEVER once came up for discussion in any of my teacher education classes. Certainly, we need to focus on our students, to meet them where they are so we can see to their educational needs. But if teachers’ own needs aren’t being met, how can we meet our students’ needs?

It’s a question I have only recently begun asking myself, spurred not only by my experiences here, but also by reading Teachers Have It Easy: The Big Sacrifices and Small Salaries of America’s Teachers (Moulthrop, Calegari, and Eggers, 2005). I’d settle first for better working conditions, but these authors think the biggest and most important change should be a drastic increase in teacher’s compensation (which, just for the record, I’m not at all opposed to). Either way, this statement has particular resonance for me:

“The mood of a school starts with its teachers. If teachers are content and can be proud of their work and compensation, their self-respect trickles down and is felt by every student.”

Now, I’ve never been a firm believer in any kind of “trickle-down” theory, but this one makes a lot of sense to me.

For now, in lieu of that salary commensurate with the amount of responsibility and stress of the job, I’ll take the kind of interpersonal support I’ve been getting from a few key people.

Although the Achievement Academy is currently without a principal, the regular high school principal has been fantastically supportive of not only the Achievement Academy as a whole, but also of me personally. He mentioned the other day that he noticed I was showing leadership initiative in trying to get things done for the Academy. That was a nice pat on the ego, good fuel for the effort I’ve been expending these past few days.

My parents, of course, have been their usual unconditionally supportive (and parentally concerned) selves, especially my father, who has 32 years of teaching experience to share with me. He, more than anyone else I’m close to, I think can acutely share my disbelief and disappointment at some of the circumstances I have had to navigate.

My girlfriend’s parents have even gotten in on the act, offering moral and other kinds of support; they read this blog. If nothing else, knowing that I’m being heard and appreciated is a wonderful comfort.

Speaking of my girlfriend, she’s been an absolute dream. Not only does she provide unwavering, unconditional, and unselfish support in all ways, shapes, and forms of which she is capable (she, more than anyone else, has seen exactly what the stress of this job can do to me), in addition to all of this, she came with me at 8 a.m. this morning to help me clean and arrange my classroom. And she actually enjoyed herself! If dating me doesn’t prove that she’s crazy, this most definitely should. When given the chance to arrange things, whether they be desks or computer settings or bulletin boards, the OCD in both of us has a chance to swell, shine, and pulse in a simpatico beat that makes normal people stare incredulously, then shrug and shake their heads. She’s definitely the right woman for me.

And perhaps the most unexpected, but no less appreciated, support has come from some of my former students. On Thursday, when we Academy teachers were realizing just how many desks and computers and books and such we needed to move between rooms before Tuesday (everyone was moved to a different room) someone had the idea of calling up some of last year’s freshmen. I whipped out my laptop, upon which was my call log from last year, and proceeded to call about ten different students and ask their parents for their help. Every student I got in touch with agreed, and most of them even showed up the next day. Legal reasons prevent me from mentioning them by name, but they know who they are. And they got lunch out of the deal. One of those students even came back for a second morning of work. There wasn’t as much heavy lifting to do, but he still helped out tremendously.

So now I have a physical sense of how I will teach, and I have a supportive net to fall into when I need to duck and cover from the strain of teaching.

Now all I need are some finished lesson plans and the inner authority to keep my classroom running smoothly. I’d love about another month to prepare—hell, I’d take one more day than the two I currently have to work with (and I’m taking tomorrow completely off—I’ve earned it this past week), so I’m looking at having all of my remaining prep done—syllabus, letter to parents, lesson plans about the rules, signs and attendance sheets for the first day, and a host of other things that will just keep growing until next June—on Monday.

I guess that’s why they call it Labor Day, right?