Let me bring you up to speed without a lot of bla-bla: during class with the 6th graders, we were working on how to ask and tell someone's age. "How old are you?" "How old is your mother?" "How old is your father?"
Well, Marina answered "My mother is thirty-two." Marie said "My father is thirty-four."
Maxime: "My father is thirty-five." Alexia: "My father is forty-seven." Louise: "My mother is forty-two."
Okay, so I knew I was old enough to be these kids' mother, but can I just say?
I'M OLD ENOUGH TO BE THEIR MOTHER.
Um, hello? I'm older than Marina's mother.
Now that I'm over the shock, I can tell you the best part of today's 6th grade class:
We went over vocabulary such as mother, father, sister, brother. And someone asked about "daughter." I wrote daughter and son on the whiteboard. One girl kept saying "Doctor, doctor," so I went over the pronunciation of both words.
"Son," I said. (sounds like "sonne" in French)
"Oh, that's like Ah-lee-SONNE," said Alison.
"Yes," I replied, and I wrote Alison on the board. I continued, "Alison is an Anglo-Saxon name."
"What's Anglo-Saxon?" asked Alison. Her neighbor filled her in.
I reiterated, "Alison is an English name. Listen. Son and son." I pointed to son and Alison on the board.
The bell rang then, and the kids left the classroom. I gathered my things, locked the door, and headed down to the teachers' lounge. As I neared the double doors that head to the administration wing (and lounge), I saw Alison. She approached me.
"Madame, is it true that your name is Alison?"
"Yes, my name is Alison. Who told you that?"
Alison smiled. "Oh, I just heard it around."
I smiled back and said "Now you know, Alison really is an English name."
Alison said "Can I give you a kiss?"
I said yes, and she gave me a peck on the cheek. Une bise. She was pleased that we share a name, and I was pleased that I'd reached her.
Teaching sucks. It really sucks. And then there are moments like this, when you realize that you have had a positive effect on a child.
Last time I done let a 6th grader kiss me, I had her Daddy's shot gun at mah back, a preacher in fronta me and' her Maw-ma cryin' "Just like MY weddin'!"
Posted by: Thomas | January 20, 2005 at 15:41
Wow. Thanks for sharing that moment.
Posted by: Allan | January 20, 2005 at 15:42
Lovely story, I bet she'll remember that years from now.
Posted by: Daisy | January 20, 2005 at 21:17
It's amazing, isn't it?
I had a similar type of moment today at school. One of my students, one that has been in at least one of my classes each quarter since I started teaching, was talking about some of the design work he's started doing over the break. He has been working in a style that he learned about in the History of Design class I taught last quarter. A style that started back in the early 1900s in Russia.
It made me feel SO good to know that he took something away from the class, that it impacted him in a positive manner. This is the kind of thing that keeps me excited about teaching.
Posted by: newwavegurly | January 20, 2005 at 21:33
That's one of the most irritating things about teaching: Just when you think you're through with it for good, something like that happens and you find yourself back in love with it.
Posted by: e | January 21, 2005 at 05:39
I have to say, I love all the kissy-kissy stuff over here. It's right up my tactile alley.... um... bwahahahahahahaha! Um... sorry... ok *backing away from the blog now*
Posted by: Amber | January 21, 2005 at 09:32
if it makes you feel better, my students are 13 & 14 and i am the same age as their mothers. and i am 30! THAT IS FRIGHTENING!
Posted by: nicole | January 24, 2005 at 21:59