Without fancy measurements or elaborate testing, I came to understand the true value of teachers and teaching.
In addition to being a volunteer math teacher, I mentor students at an inner city charter school that is focused on social justice, a wonderfully aspirational program nestled in an inner-city environment not far from the Capitol. One of the program requirements is for seniors to complete an in-depth study on a remedy to a social ill of their choosing, preferably one that fuels their interest in social change and provides an outlet for their passion. This past week I was invited to be a judge for the senior thesis presentations, a required milestone for this school’s pending graduates. I participated along with four other judges in evaluating four students’ capstone presentations. The students’ teacher as proctor prepared us for our duties carefully describing what we ought to expect from the students, what a “B” looked like and how we ought to provide constructive feedback. There was a fairly complex, two page rubric I was to complete for each student where numerical scores for things like “analysis of controversies surrounding the policy” and delivery style were distilled to arrive at a letter grade.
I took to the task following the directions I was given, capturing solid feedback in the various rubric areas with enough positive input to help balance out the constructive feedback I planned to give. The first three students each got the full treatment: lots of kudos, constructive feedback and a rubric that arrived in the B range. The last student of the evening began her presentation and it was obvious that she was struggling to communicate her topic. In addition to a significant speech impediment, she was inarticulate and chose to read all of her comments off of the notes tightly clutched in her hands before us. I started taking notes about things like “over-reliance of note cards” and “reading from the screen presentation” but also noticed that the material she presented was amazingly well researched, among the strongest of the presentations I had seen tonight. She had three times as many charts as her cohort, and each was directly related to her topic. Clearly there was something incongruous here but I continued taking my notes and preparing my comments for the review of her presentation.
At the close of a presentation, the student led the evaluation process, seeking input and answering questions posed by the judges. At the close of this last student’s presentation she simply became silent and stared off into the distance. After several seconds of awkward silence, the teacher guiding the proceedings, prompted the student to get questions from the judges. The student’s gaze turned downward and her entire frame slowly started to melt, fainting in the slowest of motion. The teacher quickly but unobtrusively walked up to the student and gently put her arm around her, helping the student to stay upright. The teacher’s demeanor quickly turned from being the presentation proctor to the reassuring older sister, offering loving words of encouragement without an ounce of discomfort in front of the audience. The student regained her posture and a little of her composure, took a breath and refocused her gaze on the audience. The teacher guided her to a chair and at the teacher’s urging, we each took turns providing supportive feedback to the student about her presentation, noting any other feedback in written form on the rubric. We later learned that this student, though clearly bright and with true potential, had significant learning disabilities and suffered from anxiety within the classroom, something she and the staff have worked together for many years to overcome.
Though awkward at first then subtly but powerfully poignant, this teacher’s response was as natural as a sibling and as loving as a parent. It was also apparent that this was not the first time this teacher had responded in such a loving fashion to one of her students. It was natural and well received. Love and connection would make the difference for this student, enough that she will emerge from this program when the odds were clearly stacked against her. She along with countless of her peers will make it through in spite of learning issues, inner city pressures and an environment of low expectations, by the loving support of this teacher and many others willing to expose their hearts a bit. It became obvious after watching this student slowly wither before my eyes that I wasn't there to "judge." I wasn't really even there to provide feedback. I was there to provide support. If only so lovingly as I witnessed that evening.