My dream

My dream is to bring up myself as a worthy person, wife, mother. Perhaps, it’s a little bit selfish I want my children to remember me for a long time, let it be my own children or my schoolchildren. I think that it should be a good beginning for a purposeful life.

I clearly understand that I have a lot to do: to improve my thoughts, English, methods of teaching, and it’s not the end of the list. But I believe I’ll have some wisdom to make a point, and that day I’ll be the happiest person in the world, because if you know what to do you are on half a way to solve it. I’ll do my best to achieve this him.

A LITTLE PROGRESS EVERY DAY ADDS UP TO BIG RESULTS

Being a teacher for me means to be a very noble, clever, good-natured and good-hearted teacher. At the same time the teacher must be strict and exacting like “Terrible” Miss Dove after F.G.Patton.

… In the silence little Randy kissed “the terrible Miss Dove”. On girl said, “It’s like a medal. It’s just a medal he has given to Miss Dove”.

I teach my students:

- to be faithful to God and Ukrainian heritage;

- to be always honest;

- to be always optimistic and happy;

- to be always clean and tidy;

- to know how to cope in life;

- not to be afraid of life obstacles;

- to be an example for others.

I am sure that a little progress every day adds up to big results. To sum it up, I want to wish all teachers to be loved and respected by all the pupils and their parents.

CHILDREN ARE GIFT FROM GOD

Some three thousand years ago the Bible declared: “Children are gift from God. They are a real blessing”. Children are our future. Every child is talented and teachers can help nurture their talents. The more often a child is encouraged and showed that s/he does something useful and good, the more successful he will be in an adult life. So, in such a way teachers touch the future and bring up mature personalities.

While working with young generation I try to teach everyone individually taking into consideration psychological peculiarities of pupils, pay much attention to the development of their inclinations and abilities, mould pupils’ literacy and motivate them to learn English. So, the most important aspect here is to find the proper key to each child’s heart.

That’s why I often tell my pupils, “I know you can do it. Please try”. I persuade my learners that every English lesson is a step to mastering the language that they acquire step by step.

“The best way to educate pupils is to make them happy.” This quotation is used as a motto in my English lessons.

MY EARLY TEACHING JOB

One of my early teaching jobs involved teaching at an alternative school. This school had “the worst of the worst, ” the students that even public alternative schools had expelled. The students who straggled in the door every day were living lives of quiet desperation, labeled as failures and never expected to amount to anything. Our school had an on-premise day care, so we had a lot of teen mothers who were trying to break free of their cycle of poverty. Every student who came to us realised we were the last chance they had to make something of their lives.

As a fairly new teacher, I was terrified of them. They were mostly African-Americans from the inner-city, and I was a white teacher who grew up in the affluent suburbs. I had visions of what they were like gleaned from countless hours of television and movies. I was sure these kids were violent, amoral people, and somehow I envisioned myself as their saviour, the person who would turn their lives from violence and poverty to peace and prosperity. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My first day there, the students knew they had me in a corner and took advantage of every misstep I made. The first scene in Dangerous Minds could have been my classroom, and I had no ex-Marine moves to get their attention. I was scared and nervous, and I wondered why I ever thought I could teach these incorrigibles. As I was about to leave, certain that I would turn in my resignation that afternoon, one of my students came over and said, “Oh, you’ll be okay. They’s just testing’ you”. With a smile, he sauntered out.

I have never been a person to turn down a challenge, so I came back the next day and the next and the day after that. After a while, the challenges came less often, and I knew I had “made it” when I heard one of our students tell another, “You got Miz Nelson? Yeah, she cool”.

I came to the school determined to teach the students how to read. Instead, the students taught me how to live. I learned what it is like to be truly poor, to be told that you are nothing and to have suspicion and fear follow you every day of your life. I learned about the joy you can find in the little things in life and why teenagers want to have babies. I learned what makes a young man join a gang and even take a life. When the student who had reassured me that first day was cut down in a drive-by shooting, I learned a lot about grief. I learned even more about the human spirit and how truly resilient it could be.

My homeroom students were the most special to me. I saw them every morning when we prepared for the rest of their day. We talked about what was going on at home, at school, and everything and anything they wanted or needed to discuss. In the afternoon, before they left, we had study hall and again talked about what was going on in their lives.

Each homeroom teacher was responsible for his or her homeroom kids. We were their advocates, their friends and, for some, very much their “parents” since many of these kids didn’t have an available parent figure. If they didn’t come to school, we found out why. We visited their homes to meet their families, and we were available at every turn at school to give whatever assistance was needed.

Then, midway through the year the announcement came. The organisation that had sponsored us had sold the land, and at the end of the year, our school would be closed.

We teachers were devastated. We loved our kids like our own, and we hated to let them go. The students were even more destroyed. This school was their last chance. Many of them literally had nowhere to go. The public schools had expelled them, and no one else would take them either. Once again, they would fail.

The students responded to the news with one of two attitudes. Many just dropped out, feeling rejected again. Those who stayed decided to work until their last breath and get as much as they could from school. When protest after protest failed, they finally resigned themselves to the fact that they would be moving on. They chose new schools or stepped up their work so they could graduate with the final class.

As the school year came to a close, I wondered what I could give to these kids who had given me so much, who had taught me about myself, and about my prejudices, and about what is really important in life. I didn’t have much money, and I knew that material gifts wouldn’t impress many of them anyway. So I wrote each student a letter telling them about the wonderful qualities I saw in them, my hopes and dreams for their futures, and the ways they had changed my life. I told each of them that I loved them.

The day before the last day, I handed out the letters and waited calmly, expecting these “tough” kids to reject my words and toss them into the trash. Instead, I was met with absolute silence.

“Do you really mean this? ” one asked.

“Of course. Every word.”

“Wow”.

One big hulking boy, who had never succeeded in school until the came to us, sat silently in a corner of the room. I thought he was just waiting for the moment I wasn’t looking so he could throw my letter out. Instead, he came over, hugged me and sobbed. I heard him say, “No one ever told me that I was this good before”.

My heart broke. Imagine living your life for eighteen years and never having anyone tell you how valuable and special you are. I couldn’t fathom the despair with which this child had lived his life.

That day, I determined that my role as a reading teacher was not merely to teach students to read, but much more importantly, to teach them of their value in life. To this day, every holiday, I write every one of my students a letter telling them about the gift they are to me and their class-mates. In never fails that a few kids cry, and most of them are amazed that someone cared enough to tell them they are valuable people. The letters are tucked quietly into notebooks and some even stapled into binders, lest the letter be lost and the reminder of their value be gone forever.

I often think of those kids and wonder if they know how many lives they have truly touched by having first touched mine.

THE BIG KID

I was only twenty and weighed about 102 pounds when I started teaching. One of the students in my first speech class was tweny-one years old and weighed about 290 pounds. The principal brought him to my class, told him to take a seat and said: ”We have to get rid of this kid, this year … so pass him no matter what! ”

This was my first experience as a high school teacher. It was my first day in the job. Because “pass this kid, no matter what” was against my principles, I said to the principal, “No, I will pass him because he deserves to pass. He will pass, I guarantee it.”

This “kid” was the youngest of seven brothers. They were all as big as he was, and they would not let him quit school until he graduated. He had taken every class in the school and was teetering on a D average.

After everyone settled in their seats, I introduced myself, set my standards and assigned them to share something good they had done for someone else.

The Big Kid, as he was not so affectionately called, didn’t start to work when I said, “You can start preparing what you want to say”. He just sat there.

As I approached him, one the students stopped me and said, “He never does anything. Don’t bother him”.

I thanked the student for his advice but ignored his well-meaning words and sat down beside the Big Kid. I looked at him as if I were definitely his size and said, “Let’s begin”.

“I am not going” to give no speech, “ he said with a grin to let me know that this was a very firm and absolute final resolution.

“There is no way out, ” I responded as I looked at him with the same resolve, as if I were bigger, taller and stronger than he was. I also smiled, paused and then continued as if the agreed with me that he was indeed going to give that speech. (To me this was not a power of will, but a power of right.) “Let me see, something good that you have done for someone…” We started talking and soon he told me about making a tree house for his nephew. His brothers were all carpenters and made everything around the house that anyone wanted except tree house for their nephew. So he decided one day to do it on his own. The way he told the story was beautiful, filled with love and goodness for his nephew and with a rare insight into the needs of another. He described his nephew in every detail, and added with a smile that broke across his entire face, “That little kid would smile inside out when I’d lift him into his tree house. He’d look down at me as if I had made him King of the Mountain”. The Big Kid added shaking his head in disbelief, “You know, everyone thought I was crazy making that tree house for him on account of because he was so crippled”.

Our eyes met. Mine were filled with tears. I thanked him for sharing his beautiful story with me and said, “I have a reward for you: you get to be… first! ” Before he could say a word, I stopped the class and announced, “We have our first speech ready”. He looked terror-struck, as if he was facing the biggest hurdle of his life. I quickly ushered the Big Kid to the front of the room. “Tell it exactly the way you told me, ” I whispered to him. “Have the courage to be ‘King of the Mountain’ like your little nephew has taught you.” Encouragingly, I added, “I believe you can do this! ”

After some delay, he opened his mouth to speak. His hands were on top of his head, his old torn, shabby T-shirt revealed a bulging fat stomach hanging over his pants. He twisted and turned; he was definitely uncomfortable and struggling.

I nodded my head. “Begin, ” I mouthed. “No way out.” Only a way into the hearts of everyone in that class.

When he finished his speech, there was not a dry eye in the class of those sophisticated seniors and their teacher – me. There was silence. He just stood there with a helpless or hopeless expression on his face, then the class exploded in applause as they jumped to their feet with a standing ovation. He savoured, or I should say we all savoured, the moment.

I gave him an A. Then he cried, “Nobody aren’t never gave me no a before”.

“You gave us the gift of telling us your story, ” I sniffed. “You earned the A”. I have never seen anyone improve so much in my life. The students became his friends, and he became theirs. They still called him the Big Kid, but the meaning had a big heart in it, now. There was such unity and support in that class that everyone was eager to speak.

But that’s not all…

The next semester, there he was in my journalism class, front and centre. We were to produce the school newspaper. Help! I had never had a journalism class in my life. I had never put together a newspaper and never worked on a yearbook, even when I was in high school. The students who were in second-year journalism asked me where the dummy sheets were. I said, “Show them to me when you find them”. I didn’t have the faintest idea where a dummy sheet was. I studied the book and learned a lot.

But I didn’t learn half as much as the Big Kid did. It was in this class that I discovered he couldn’t read or write. I was horrified by the “pass-‘em-out-of-here-and-forget’em” policy in place in our schools at that time.

How could he do his assignments without being able to read or write?

No way out.

Okay! I accepted the challenge. To fulfil his assignment the Big Kid collected his stories by interviewing the students. We confided in one of the second-year journalism students that he could not write, and that person wrote his story each week from his dictation. Soon other students found out about his inability to read and write, and they eagerly offered to help him, as well.

At that time, there were no teachers assigned to teach reading or writing to nonreaders in high school, so the students helped him learn to read and write.

By the end of the year he could read and write. He wrote:

“ Something Good You Have Done for Me

Thank you. The good you have done for me, I hope I can repay to others.

The Big Kid has learned to read and to write and gets to graduate! ”

He received an A and the Most Improved Student Award.