As my practicum is coming to a close, I find myself thinking over not just the many amazing educators I have seen in these short weeks, but the many many educators who have influenced me throughout my time alive. And I can't help but wonder to myself, who - out of all these truly amazing human beings - has rubbed off on me enough to make me teach like them?
I remember having a conversation with my best friend about teaching several years ago. She told me that I would make a fantastic teacher because I wanted to be everyone's friend. And that made me really angry! I didn't want to be one of those teachers. That one teacher who would rather be your pal than your drill sergeant. I truly felt insulted when she said this trait was within me. Several years after that one of my former teachers (and current mentors) mailed me a box of books. One of the enclosed boxes was titled Teaching with Humour. While discussing these books with my former teacher, she specifically said to me, "you'll use this book more than I ever did," and again, I was insulted! Sure I like to make people laugh, but I'm not a jokester. I don't like playing games instead of learning things. I don't like fooling around instead of being on task. Being on task is one of my favourite things!! So why do people keep implying these things about me?
And finally I have figured it out. It is not silliness or unprofessionalism. It is not a lack of control or a desire to goof around. What these wonderfully wise folks were trying to communicate to me (and my defensive self was taking no part in it) was the importance of joy.
A principal literally on the floor with a student, determined for that student to enjoy a Christmas concert rehearsal. Joy. A staff member sneaking around with a small stuffed elf, determined for students to believe. Joy. A group of teachers giggling in the corner after realizing that the word "generous" is infinitely better if pronounced with a 'w' instead of an 'r'. Joy. A teacher smiling as a student went on and on and on about the very specific colour of one tiny popcorn kernel. Joy. This week I found myself holding back whole-hearted chortles of laughter at some of things my students said and did. At one point, while filming what will go down in history as the greatest summary of Judy Blume Freckle Juice ever, I literally had to stop the video to laugh because I was shaking too much. And maybe that is a little silly. And no it wasn't the stern, professional reaction to the situation that some part of me still almost wants. But it was most definitely joyful.