Last period of the day. Eighth grade math class. This group is the "band section." It has been demonstrated that there is a positive correlation between musical ability and math ability, which is to say this was a bright bunch of kids, but disadvantaged by being in a last period class. That is, the kids, and the teacher, had already been through six other class periods.
Keeping their attention a top priority, the teacher is performing brilliantly. In the course of the exposition, he makes a statement that inspires Jack to inquire about an issue that is not germane to the lesson, but related to the topic. Teach understands that this is a valid question and responds, and I quote, "I don't know right off-hand, but I have that information in my drawers. Give me a chance to look for it."
No reaction, except that I note that fourth seat back, far right hand row, Jane has a wicked sparkle in her eye and the formation of the grin on her face tells me she is about to let go. I make eye contact with her, hard stare, glower as if silently to say, If you do, you're dead. She relaxed, I relaxed and proceeded with the lesson.
This has been one of my favorite "teacher" stories over the years. Were I to meet Jane somewhere today, she would be fifty-eight years of age and probably would have absolutely no memory of this incident. And I would not remind her.
2 comments:
I would have let her laugh! I guess that's why I'm not a teacher!
Yeah, but I had to maintain control of that bunch for another 25 minutes. And I've laughed about it a lot since then.
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