The other day I was having the typical morning at LINK Community School. I arrived barely on time, cold and hoping to learn from the mistakes I made the day before. I kept telling myself that today I would actually give a detention to every kid that said, "shut-up" or rolled their eyes or sighed when I gave directions to the class. Or, today I would make sure that I was constantly present in every conversation I had with a child. These seem like pretty strait forward goals, and yet, they become so difficult. I'm halfway through my day and I realize that I've lost. Conversation after conversation become one long day, and at the end, I stand in front of an empty class asking myself, "Did I reach them today?" "Did I make a difference?" Will I ever know the answers to these questions?
These are the thoughts that greet me each afternoon, but thankfully I have found a release. Beginning about two weeks ago I began working everyday with the 7th and 8th grade girls and boys basketball teams. (For those that don't know me, I love basketball. I have been playing competitively and for fun for nearly 14 years, beginning in the 3rd grade). My role on the LINK staff is the assistant coach, a position of authority--but the role of disciplinarian and all-around tough guy is reserved for Coach Jones. It’s at this point that I can talk to the kids about something they love and make them appreciate it even more.
It’s a chance for me to talk about something I love and know. I feel like that's major part of being a successful teacher - when a teacher is passionate about a subject, not because they have to teach it, but because they love the subject itself. When the time comes for them to share their knowledge, it’s not a class/teacher scene, but a conversation between people. They bounce ideas and questions off each other to find the best understanding.
I've had one of these "conversations" recently. Cassie is not your typical/ideal student. She is not eager to pay attention to a teacher lecture about algebraic equations or scientific theories. But, mention basketball, and she is all ears. Sort of. She is a 13 year old girl, born and raised in Newark, New Jersey. You can't tell Cassie what to do; you just hope when you give her an assignment, all you get back is a sigh and a role of the eyes. It’s that, or she is out the door ready to do her own thing.
During a recent practice Cassie was taking several jump shots, becoming more and more frustrated with each subsequent miss. I walk over to the basket and begin rebounding for her. She misses again and is ready to chuck the ball through the ceiling. Luckily, I retrieve the ball first and calmly walk over to her. I hand her the ball and remind her that Steve Nash shot 1-9 the previous night and he has two MVPs under his belt. She nods her head reluctantly, takes the ball, and then we begin to talk about her form. We decide on a comfortable shot for her and test the results. She makes the first shot from twelve feet out. She makes the second. I pass her the ball and remind her to use her legs. She hits a third shot in a row. She begins to smile and quickly hides it, because for Cassie, she expects to make every shot. We work for another 25 minutes. She takes nearly 60 shots. When practice ends, she jogs over to me and asks if we can work on her shot tomorrow after practice. I say yes, of course--trying to hold back my own beaming smile, less she find out exactly what that means to my heart.
Learn more about Daniel here.
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