One can learn a lot just by looking

My pencil scratches across the lined page as I write: ‘I notice that an elementary school is never quiet, even when it’s supposed to be.”

Tucking the pencil inside my writer’s notebook, I rise from my seat to walk around the room one last time before stopping students, now immersed in their own writing, for our regular end of writing workshop share time. Today’s lesson has been the first in a unit on living the lives of writers; a unit on paying attention to the things around us and noticing what’s really there and what we can learn from it. As we share aloud, I expect most students to just be warming up to the idea of observation, so I am not surprised when some of their notebooks include the mundane — I notice the carpet is multicolored — and the predictable — I notice that the sun is shining.

As a teacher, it’s my job to pay attention. I am expected to not only observe, but to learn from my observations on a continual basis and to use my observations, experience and training to guide my thinking as to what a child needs. But it isn’t as easy as that, and sometimes what’s on the surface hides a deeper story, one that is easily missed in the hustle to meet a packed curriculum, upcoming testing schedules and deadlines, and finally drowned out amongst the messy noise of an elementary school. And so, I continually learn to listen. I learn to pay attention. I learn to see.

I’m trying to encourage my students to find the value in seeing themselves as writers, in thinking as writers and making connections to their world. In doing so, I know they will reach deeper understandings of where they fit and, ultimately, of who they are. I believe these things are important for all children, and because I believe this I made some extra effort this week. I paid closer attention and tried to move beyond the surface, beyond simple observations and generalizations into something a little deeper, hoping maybe if I lead by example I’ll convince them to do the same, and just maybe, learn a little something along the way.

Early in the week, one of my students asked if he could get two hot lunches. I replied that if he paid for two lunches I guessed it would be OK. When I asked him why he wanted two lunches he replied, “Because I’m always hungry, and I don’t get breakfast.” Listen. See. This is a child who I am always on about finishing up his meal so that we can be on time for our next task. He’s messy, disorganized and often late. As his teacher it frustrates me. He gets our class off schedule and he has a tough time catching up once he’s behind. He wants two lunches because he doesn’t get breakfast. Well, that explains why he’s often behind the eight ball and why his emotions run so high. Lesson learned.

A different student asked me this week what the name of Don Quixote’s horse was. I asked where she had heard about Don Quixote.

“My dad and I were talking about him at home. My dad can remember the names of all the NFL teams, but he can’t remember the name of Don Quixote’s horse.” she replied with a sigh and shake of her head.

Listen. See.

“You know, my favorite author named his truck after Don Quixote’s horse,” I called to her over the morning bustle of our classroom. She narrowed her eyes and called back, “Who is your favorite author?” I narrowed my own eyes in return and replied, “John Steinbeck. That should help you find the name of that horse kiddo.”

So this child loves a challenge and she’s motivated to make connections and find answers. Lesson learned.

As adults, we are always asking kids to do things that we don’t really do ourselves and to be what we know we often times aren’t.

Maybe the ultimate lesson here is one that I had not intended. Maybe I need to forget what I “know” to be true and wonder for a little bit. Maybe I need to listen more closely to the silence in my little corner of our elementary school, because in the silence there are children with stories to tell.

Vanessa Powell is a National Board Certified fifth-grade teacher at Snowshoe Elementary School. Her Chalk Talk column appears every four weeks.