Reich College of Education

“Mr. MacDonald…hey, Mr. MacDonald, can I…?” Hold on a second.

Mr. MacDonald?

 Oh, wait. That must be me.

No matter how many education classes you take, nothing quite prepares you for becoming a teacher than physically getting into the classroom. Thus far, my third year in the Reich College of Education has consisted primarily of inclusivity, accommodation and assessment — three crucial tools to add to my teaching toolbox. My second semester will be spent in Valparaíso, Chile studying abroad and taking various education classes in Spanish. I look forward to sharing those experiences with you in my next essay.

Without connection, there is no classroom. Fostering this connection through an inclusive learning community is achieved through advocacy and understanding your students. Our students come from a multitude of backgrounds: gender, race, sexuality, learning abilities, spirituality, social class, physical ability, age, etc. One student may go “home” to a warm hug and homework support, while another may go “home” to a car or uncertainty from where dinner will come that evening. This is where inclusivity and accommodation intersect and impose the question: where do I, as a teacher, begin to connect with my students when each of them comes from such unique circumstances? This question has led me to begin to investigate what a teacher needs to be. I have asked my peers, fellow educators, my grandmother, and even my massage therapist, “What kind of teacher did you need growing up?"

Aside from the cliché answers, from one of my respondents, I listened to the story of a young individual who felt they could not permit themselves to trust others. They recounted a teacher who allowed their students to feel comfortable enough to be themselves. At the end, I was left with one quote that I immediately wrote down in my journal: “I needed someone I could trust.” From another respondent, I listened to an individual who had not had great experiences with their teachers. This individual had teachers that would always attempt to neutralize his struggles by making comments such as, “ I understand” or “I know how you are feeling.” This respondent told me, quite clearly, “Listen to your students. Don’t pretend like you understand their situations.”

I recently attended the LGBTQ Education Conference for Teachers & Support Staff in North Carolina where I learned more on the concept of active listening. Active listening, for educators, refers to the openness and judgment-free attention we give our students. For example, if a student comes to you to discuss an incident of verbal bullying, active listening gives us, the educators, to put students in the position to say as much as they need to (as comfortably as they can). Instead of making comments like “I understand,” active listening helps us respond with comments such as, “How does that make you feel?” or “You can tell me more, if you’d like.” These types of comments allow the student to continue speaking and work issues out on their own, with the listening and guidance of the teacher. Even if we cannot personally assist the student with

whatever they may be experiencing, we can be active listeners, and, if needed, guide them towards the people and resources they need.

With these stories in mind, I return to the question: where do I, as a teacher, begin to connect with my students when each of them comes from such unique circumstances? I would elect that I find it more valuable to work on myself rather than prepare myself to “work” on my students. The role of the educator is more than the responsibility of teaching. I am the teacher, parent, food provider, psychologist, bus driver, self-esteem booster, encourager, and so much more. If I can educate myself to be the person that my students need, I wholeheartedly believe I can become the educator who can better connect, in some way, to each of my students. It is through these connections and understandings that I can most effectively make accommodations for my students in my classroom. I can custom tailor my lessons to reach my students, according to their interests, their senses of humor, their states of being, and their personalities. There is no easy way to ensure you reach every student in your classroom; however, the effort to do so is what matters all along. For some students, I may be able to help them achieve competency in explaining the difference between the two past tenses of Spanish. For other students, I may be able to provide them a listening ear and a clean pair of clothes to wear for school. Wherever they go after school, I hope all of my students can close their eyes at night knowing that there is at least one person who cares for them.

In addition to inclusivity and accommodation, I have been instilled with a new and motivated understanding of assessment. My course in educational assessment gave me ample opportunities to practice effective grading and feedback. The course requires each pre-service teacher to complete an Analysis of Student Learning (ASL) in order to demonstrate their learning of how to assess students and provide effective feedback. I learned many “pitfalls” of educators that take away from the purpose of assessment.

Such “pitfalls” include grading students based upon participation and formative assessments in standards-based grading (assessments FOR learning). If we include participation and formative assignments, we are not grading the content that the student knows, but rather their effort. While it is important to recognize effort, the purpose and honesty of standards-based grading must be based upon the summative assessments (assessments OF learning). This is what truly allows educators to give accurate grades based on standards, not emotions. This also guides teaching and learning as a progressive process. Interventions and challenges can be assigned based upon the work we grade. Viewing assessment in this light has allowed me to realize how miniscule grades should be in my professional field. Our grades should not be the most important part of the classroom; they take away from learning. In my profession, the curriculum, and even my assessment, as a teacher, is guided by standards. In order to uphold validity and reliability of assessments in my classroom, it is these standards with which I must become familiar in order to become a better educator. I feel confident and competent to implement a more honest and accurate system of assessment in my classroom that better enables my students to further their knowledge and understanding.

As my last year approaches before I finally enter the classroom, I realize how much my heart has grown for teaching. I have spent my entire life working to the point of becoming a teacher that I am excited to begin preparing for my life after I step into the classroom. From as early as primary school, I remember watching my teachers: how they stood, the words they used, and the ways they made me feel. As I grew, I noted these characteristics and tried to make them my own. I found myself standing taller like Ms. Bajorek, making connections with others like Mr. Schafer, and speaking Spanish like Doña Johnson. It is these experiences and people that have guided my growth and my learning; the idea of teaching has always resided in my mind. Appalachian State University and the Reich College of Education have allowed me to complete a teacher preparation program that has challenged me and molded me into a better version of myself. I know I want to be a teacher because I wish to cultivate a love for learning in others. I hope to challenge others to critically think about the world around us. I want to embody the brilliance and intelligence of those teachers who inspired me to be a part of something bigger than myself. With the many forms of support I have had throughout college, I especially thank the James Patterson Teacher Education Scholarship program for their gracious contribution to my future. It is my intention to pay forward the kindness and generosity of this program and the countless others who have helped me create a reality that reflects my dreams of making a difference, one student at a time.