Resilience in Response to Tragedy
One time when I truly felt like an educator was
when I was a principal in St. Louis in 2001,
when our students led efforts that resulted in
passage of the Stray Dog Bill. These students
were responding to a horrible event that tested
their resilience—the death of one of our 4th
graders, Rodney McAllister, who was killed
by stray dogs on the way home from school.
Following the tragedy, we taught lessons to
empower students to create a safer community.
As a result of the students’ advocacy, the Stray
Dog Bill was enacted, promoting a safer city
for students. Our handprints remain imprinted
on the park pathway where Rodney died; they
are my reminder that as educators, we have the
power in our hands to help our learners shape
their future.
—Tiffany Anderson, chief academic officer,
Kansas City Public Schools, Missouri
A Listening Ear
As a teacher, it always gave me an adrenaline
rush when students’ eyes widened and their
nonverbal cues showed that they “got it.” Sometimes, however, their eyes revealed the opposite.
One particular day, as I taught a lesson on
latitude and longitude, I knew by Brandon’s eyes
that he wasn’t paying attention. After class, I
spoke with Brandon about what I had observed.
Brandon stated, “I can’t concentrate—I have
bigger problems than finding the latitude and
longitude of Paris, France.” He told me about his
undesirable situation at home, which prompted
him to question life. I knew that he needed a
listening ear, and from then on I made a point of
building a trusting relationship with Brandon to
enable him to share his problems. At the end of
the school year, Brandon told me, “Thanks for
saving my life because you listened and cared!” I
knew I was in the right profession.
—Joris M. Ray, director,
innovative and charter schools,
Memphis City Schools, Tennessee
Whatever It Takes
Shortly after I began teaching, I had a student
in one of my classes who rarely came to school
and consequently struggled to keep up. I had
talked to him about his absences and attempted
to contact his guardian, but my efforts had been
fruitless. I asked several of my colleagues about
the student, and they said that he had struggled
since the death of his parents; he was living
with a sister, and he frequently just bounced
from house to house, staying with relatives and
friends. They had tried to help him, but he was
never at school enough for their help to make a
difference. I talked to the student and told him
I would pick him up every morning for school.
There were many times when I had to wake
him up and insist that he go. But gradually he
became more responsible, and he eventually
defied the odds by graduating on time. At gradu-
ation, he thanked me for never giving up on him
and for pushing him to do his best, and he told
me he would have never made it without my
help. That day reinforced my desire to help more
students reach their goals.
From Obedience to Engagement
I am 6' 2" and pretty intimidating. When I
started teaching at an inner-city middle school,
I was determined to have good classroom
management—and I did. I was that first-year
teacher who could get 25 8th graders to sit
quietly and read for 90 minutes. I created procedures, I enforced consequences consistently,
and I worked hard to make sure every single
one of my students behaved correctly. I was
Harry Wong on steroids. My aha moment came
when, after a year or two, I realized that all I was
teaching was obedience.
I knew I was a real teacher when I embraced
the social justice perspective I had come to
education with in the first place. Rather than
seeing middle schoolers as founts of potential
chaos, I began to see them as individuals who
needed my help to challenge their boundaries and to progress as readers, writers, and
thinkers. Control took a backseat to engagement.
Teaching took a backseat to learning. Activities
took a backseat to students. These days, as I help
prepare new teachers to enter the profession, my
work always ties back to that initial realization:
engagement, learning, and students—that’s what
it’s all about.
—Jennifer Morrison, assistant professor,
Newberry College, South Carolina
For more stories from
outstanding young
educators about the
first time they felt like
a real teacher, scan this
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vol69/num08/The-First-
Time-You-Felt-Like-a-
Real-Teacher.aspx.
