My head is too big

Where would I be without my students, Possums?

Today was the last day of semester at uni. My three classes of post graduate students came in dribs and drabs to hand in their assessment tasks. Throughout the day I had to say goodbye to all sixty odd of them. I wished them well.

Becoming a teacher is not an easy journey. Its risky. Its the most intensive personal development course anyone could take, I reckon. As a consequence, if you care about these students and model good teaching practices yourself, they appreciate you. I usually get pretty good feedback on this course, but this year’s bunch of students were exceptionally fluent. I’m not talking about ‘thanks it was great’ sorts of comments (although I did get some of those too), I’m talking about critical, positive feedback on aspects of my teaching. Its the best sort of feedback I could ever hope for.

But do you really know what its all about, Possums? This teaching/ learning/ education thing? Its about listening and building relationships: creating a space for open communication. So that’s what we were saying goodbye to.

One of my students from last year wandered into my classroom today. She sat down opposite me and struck up a conversation about what she’d been doing since last year. She stayed for over half an hour and participated in my conversations with the current students as they filed in and out with their essays. After the last of my current students left she explained why she had come:

I was in a lecture about mandatory reporting, and I couldn’t cope. You see I had a rough childhood. I ‘ve suffered post-traumatic stress. But I’m thirty now and I’ve had councelling. I thought I’d be OK. But I started wondering whether my teachers could have seen the signs in me, yet did nothing about it. I had to leave. I didn’t want to start crying in there. When I came upstairs and saw the classroom open I decided to come in. I loved your classes last year. I felt like I needed to be in a space where I could feel safe. I thought it might bring back how happy I felt then and calm me down. I didn’t even expect to find you here. I just wanted to be back in the room. But finding you has been a bonus.

Did it help? I asked. (It did).

I packed up after she left and went downstairs. On the way out I saw another of my students from last year.

I walked up to him and, with my best authoritative teacher voice said, where’s your assessment task?

What assessment task? He looked worried.

Just kidding! I’ve been missing bossing you around, you know, and just felt like a little power trip!

He smiled. I’ve missed you too, he said. His sweet reply was unexpected. Well look me up on facebook, I said. We both laughed.

So I had a good day. I was just about to shut the computer down and go to bed when I found an email from another ex-student who is now teaching in a school: Hi Bindi remember me? I’m teaching grade 3/4 students and wonder if you could send me that info you had about making the best pin hole camera?

Any teacher knows you don’t often get feedback. I used to joke that for a teacher, one tiny skerric of positive feedback can keep you in teaching for five years. But I’ve just had a whole day of it! I shall bask in it while it lasts! Somebody widen my door so I can fit my head through it please.