Success Story
The following is the 'Success Story' assignment Ben is expecting from us. My 'Failure Story' should follow sometime by the end of the weekend. Sorry for the lack of paragraphing, I just copy and paste some of these posts and assignments from Word and don't touch them up.
It is with no small amount of trepidation that I undertake the task of sharing an anecdote that exhibits a specific success from the past school year. On the one hand, I am by nature a self-deprecating fellow, afraid to admit that I have in some way succeeded because, whether through a sense of humility or jealousy of other’s seemingly larger successes I do not possess the self-confidence necessary to boast to the world of any particularly proud professional moment. On the other hand, this is and entirely irrational view, in that it is not difficult to discern that I am certainly not at the lowest end of the totem pole even if I am not at the highest at my school, and while my successes may pale in comparison to some of my colleague’s, it is important for others to understand that successes and failures are both inherent to the teaching profession. While one may argue to a certain extent that complete empathy does not exist given that anyone’s unique individual experience can inherently never be the same of another’s, sharing one’s experience, good and bad, is the cog in the wheel that keeps our human (and specifically here, teaching) community running smoothly. It is both comforting and challenging knowing that it is up to the reader in this context to emulate a similar experience, since such experiences do not transpire by chance nor are they overtly evident, especially when one is swamped in apparent failure as most beginning teachers tend to be.
Arriving at my anecdotes, then, let it be known that even a middling teacher such as I encounters uniquely rewarding experiences, and the first of two I wish to discuss is a student named Mike. Mike is from a Hispanic family with strong roots in Miami, Florida, and is clearly the child of Caribbean immigrants. (Unfortunately, it never occurred to me to inquire from which Caribbean nation his parents immigrated.) Our rapport was instant, he naturally being a fan of Miami Hurricanes football and I being a loyal Golden Domer who advertises the fact to the world. I believe my intense interest in sports in general to be an asset and a worthy complement to my intellectual tendencies if for no other reason than sports’ social aspects, and Mike proves that rule. The Hurricanes of course are naturally inferior to the Fighting Irish in all facets of life ranging from football prowess to manliness, though Mike to this day remains unconvinced by my eloquent, logical arguments demonstrating exactly this. The icing on the cake in our bond, however, was that we were two Catholics drowning in a sea of Protestants, and although we both grew up with different flavors of Catholicism, his curiosity and lack of formal grounding in the faith brought about endless ‘teaching moments’. I took pains to remain relatively neutral when speaking of these religious concerns, but nearly every day Mike and I would engage in a conversation ranging from sports to theology to history. He will never know that his failing grade in Latin magically transformed into a ‘D’ by the invisible work of some unknown hand, but his life was so unwittingly enriched by our bond that the unknown hand feels justified in its work.
This brings about a study of contrasts, then, as I share my second success story, concerning my relationship with a student named Dasha, who lurks at the opposite end of the achievement scale. Dasha is, quite simply, incredibly bright; she is not only the best that Murrah High School has to offer, she would be among the best at any given expensive prep school in the nation. She practically teaches herself and soaks up everything presented to her as if her mind were a sponge, so much so that it is difficult to claim her as a prized student since she elicits the best offerings and pride of all her teachers. She handily recognized my myriad struggles in the classroom but maintained a good faith in me (and a good humor, too) because my knowledge, experience, and wisdom were obviously ready to burst forth from me given the chance. She was willing to take that risk on me. Constantly striking up relatively deep historical, political, cultural, and philosophical conversations with me outside of class, she gleaned from me an extensive albeit superficial knowledge of the limitless subject matter of academia to augment her inherent desire to know. She is currently studying her Latin II via e-mail with me over the course of the summer, and by the end of next spring, we will have covered four years worth of Latin within the span of two years and hopefully she will have scored above a three (3) on the Latin AP exam. I am not entirely sure why she choose me for such a task – perhaps she would have done the same with any Latin teacher who came to Murrah – but I choose to believe that she profoundly appreciates my potential intellectual offerings, and it is a testament to both my character and hers that she is the catalyst for my potentiality becoming such a rich, rewarding, and beneficial actuality.
Unfortunately, our culture is hypnotized largely by the idea that every good story must preach a ‘moral’, that a text without an explicit point or ethical meaning is not worth reading. We reduce the natural beauty of the diction, syntax, and compositional skill to little more than vehicles for the crux of the argument rather than appreciate them for their own sake, much to my abhorrence; nonetheless, this exercise necessitates that I spell out my precise ultimate message, so here it is. Successes and failures are intrinsically subjective judgments left to the discerning eye of the beholder, and the grass generally looks greener on the other side of the fence, if it may be permitted to me to employ mixed metaphors. Teachers often do not see the big picture within their profession, being comparatively harsh in judgment on themselves as successful educators while simultaneously lauding the puffed-up images of others. But of course no one desires to share failure so easily. One must attempt to step back and observe that even the best teachers are severely flawed in some way (or ways), and although it is a difficult task, find the merits within oneself that deserve laudation.
It is with no small amount of trepidation that I undertake the task of sharing an anecdote that exhibits a specific success from the past school year. On the one hand, I am by nature a self-deprecating fellow, afraid to admit that I have in some way succeeded because, whether through a sense of humility or jealousy of other’s seemingly larger successes I do not possess the self-confidence necessary to boast to the world of any particularly proud professional moment. On the other hand, this is and entirely irrational view, in that it is not difficult to discern that I am certainly not at the lowest end of the totem pole even if I am not at the highest at my school, and while my successes may pale in comparison to some of my colleague’s, it is important for others to understand that successes and failures are both inherent to the teaching profession. While one may argue to a certain extent that complete empathy does not exist given that anyone’s unique individual experience can inherently never be the same of another’s, sharing one’s experience, good and bad, is the cog in the wheel that keeps our human (and specifically here, teaching) community running smoothly. It is both comforting and challenging knowing that it is up to the reader in this context to emulate a similar experience, since such experiences do not transpire by chance nor are they overtly evident, especially when one is swamped in apparent failure as most beginning teachers tend to be.
Arriving at my anecdotes, then, let it be known that even a middling teacher such as I encounters uniquely rewarding experiences, and the first of two I wish to discuss is a student named Mike. Mike is from a Hispanic family with strong roots in Miami, Florida, and is clearly the child of Caribbean immigrants. (Unfortunately, it never occurred to me to inquire from which Caribbean nation his parents immigrated.) Our rapport was instant, he naturally being a fan of Miami Hurricanes football and I being a loyal Golden Domer who advertises the fact to the world. I believe my intense interest in sports in general to be an asset and a worthy complement to my intellectual tendencies if for no other reason than sports’ social aspects, and Mike proves that rule. The Hurricanes of course are naturally inferior to the Fighting Irish in all facets of life ranging from football prowess to manliness, though Mike to this day remains unconvinced by my eloquent, logical arguments demonstrating exactly this. The icing on the cake in our bond, however, was that we were two Catholics drowning in a sea of Protestants, and although we both grew up with different flavors of Catholicism, his curiosity and lack of formal grounding in the faith brought about endless ‘teaching moments’. I took pains to remain relatively neutral when speaking of these religious concerns, but nearly every day Mike and I would engage in a conversation ranging from sports to theology to history. He will never know that his failing grade in Latin magically transformed into a ‘D’ by the invisible work of some unknown hand, but his life was so unwittingly enriched by our bond that the unknown hand feels justified in its work.
This brings about a study of contrasts, then, as I share my second success story, concerning my relationship with a student named Dasha, who lurks at the opposite end of the achievement scale. Dasha is, quite simply, incredibly bright; she is not only the best that Murrah High School has to offer, she would be among the best at any given expensive prep school in the nation. She practically teaches herself and soaks up everything presented to her as if her mind were a sponge, so much so that it is difficult to claim her as a prized student since she elicits the best offerings and pride of all her teachers. She handily recognized my myriad struggles in the classroom but maintained a good faith in me (and a good humor, too) because my knowledge, experience, and wisdom were obviously ready to burst forth from me given the chance. She was willing to take that risk on me. Constantly striking up relatively deep historical, political, cultural, and philosophical conversations with me outside of class, she gleaned from me an extensive albeit superficial knowledge of the limitless subject matter of academia to augment her inherent desire to know. She is currently studying her Latin II via e-mail with me over the course of the summer, and by the end of next spring, we will have covered four years worth of Latin within the span of two years and hopefully she will have scored above a three (3) on the Latin AP exam. I am not entirely sure why she choose me for such a task – perhaps she would have done the same with any Latin teacher who came to Murrah – but I choose to believe that she profoundly appreciates my potential intellectual offerings, and it is a testament to both my character and hers that she is the catalyst for my potentiality becoming such a rich, rewarding, and beneficial actuality.
Unfortunately, our culture is hypnotized largely by the idea that every good story must preach a ‘moral’, that a text without an explicit point or ethical meaning is not worth reading. We reduce the natural beauty of the diction, syntax, and compositional skill to little more than vehicles for the crux of the argument rather than appreciate them for their own sake, much to my abhorrence; nonetheless, this exercise necessitates that I spell out my precise ultimate message, so here it is. Successes and failures are intrinsically subjective judgments left to the discerning eye of the beholder, and the grass generally looks greener on the other side of the fence, if it may be permitted to me to employ mixed metaphors. Teachers often do not see the big picture within their profession, being comparatively harsh in judgment on themselves as successful educators while simultaneously lauding the puffed-up images of others. But of course no one desires to share failure so easily. One must attempt to step back and observe that even the best teachers are severely flawed in some way (or ways), and although it is a difficult task, find the merits within oneself that deserve laudation.
posted by David Jones | 21:50
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