It was a good day to be a teacher.

Well, yes, any day is a good day to be a teacher, but today in particular.

I don't know why today and not any other day felt this way, but maybe it was because the young college student who is working on her special education methods practicum spent the entire day with me. She came prepared today to do some of the things she had planned to do to complete her case study.

Her day started early, with a running record (for those not in the field, that is a reading assessment which provides information that leads to a thorough analysis of a student's reading skills in the area of fluency, decoding, and comprehension) of a second grader, a math activity (focusing on reading decimals to the thousandths place, using dice to create the numbers) for two fifth graders, followed by observations of myself and other teachers. Near the end of the day, she led a reading skills activity with two of my first graders, then tutored a first grader while he wrote a rough draft of three sentences from his flow map.

As she worked, I only caught glimpses of her, for I was deeply involved in my own teaching with the other students in the room. Such glimpses result in lengthy thought trails that follow one throughout a busy day. Not until one has time to sit down and reflect can a thought trail be fully appreciated and pondered over.

Back in August, when I was first asked to be a cooperating teacher with the local university, my first reaction was to say "No thank you!" My plate was quickly filling up, having just changed schools following my seventh year as an EC teacher, increased my student case load by 25%, and added two grade levels to my usual two. I did not think I would be able to effectively mentor and guide a senior in the Special Education program of a highly esteemed institution. Too much felt unbalanced, unfamiliar. I did not feel like I was in my element, nor did I think I could handle the extra work it would entail.

Although the introductory letter stated I would not have to do any paperwork, I knew that I would be doing a lot of mental work, that we would have to talk about things, she would be asking questions, and I would have to explain things. Explaining takes time. Further, I don't like talking about what I do. I just like doing it.

And if she were to notice things that didn't seem right, or that seemed effective, or if she were to criticize my methods, or even the methods of other teachers, would I be able to temper my words in a thoughtful manner? Would my words encourage her to continue to ask such questions of veteran teachers, or would my words discourage her and forever brand me as someone who doesn't love her work? Would she leave my classroom inspired, disappointed, or indifferent?

(all these concerns and I hadn't even met her yet!)

In the beginning, I almost responded to that first letter asking if I would be a cooperating teacher for the fall semester with a loud, emphatic "No! I don't have time. Maybe later, in a couple of years when I've settled down into this position. Ask me when I have a few years under my belt. Ask me when...."

That's what I thought. At first.

Good thing I don't always follow my first thought. My second thought, which came after a couple of days of thinking and not thinking about it was to say, "Bea, what is there to lose by taking on a college student for a couple of months? She gains experience in an area that is often difficult to manage these days, and I gain an enthusiastic young person to influence, who will one day be a better teacher than I."

I remember when I was in her shoes. My first case studies nearly ten years ago were second graders with genuine reading problems. Two little kids, who could barely read a first grade level reader. I remember how hard I worked preparing reading lessons for them, not only to help me get my course work done for the 'A' I wanted, but also to help them improve their skills in the process. It remains one of my fondest memories as a student-teacher.

I can still hear their voices as they gleefully read a story they had written together to accompany the pictures in the wordless picture book, "Good Dog, Carl," by Alexandra Day.

                                                              

Yes, if you haven't seen a wordless picture book, my friends, you have missed out on reading. They are delightful treasures that allow even readers who can't read English words to tell/read a story. When a child creates a story based on the pictures they see in a well illustrated volume, rich with color and detail, they are able to use their own words to tell a vivid, inviting story. The teacher writes the words for them, and the student reads it back. His own words. He is reading a story that he has told. The confidence gained by successful reading is invaluable to a beginning reader.

By the way, here is a link to a list of 50 high quality wordless picture book titles. Some of my favorites include Free Fall by David Wiesner, Tuesday, by David Wiesner, Sector 7, also by David Wiesner, The Snowman by Raymond Briggs, A Small Miracle by Peter Collington, and any of the Carl books by Alexandra Day.

But I have digressed.

I was writing about my college student. To think I nearly said no.

After the students were dismissed at the end of their school day, I was mentally drained. My books were scattered about the classroom. She was asking me about next week, what would the fifth grade students need to be focusing on in math so she could plan two lessons. During one of them she will be observed by her professor. I didn't even want to think about next week, but I knew we had to talk about it.

So we did. After an hour of looking through materials, making copies, discussing activities, and setting up a time for her lessons, she left. It was 4:30 pm. I could see that she felt  confident after her work today, and I was pleased that it went well for her. I knew she would look forward to next week, even as I wondered how I was going to get all my planning done for the rest of my students, in their various classes, struggling with their various difficulties. I knew I'd be back here on Sunday.

As I turned out the lights of my classroom, and locked the doors, I stole a glimpse back into my room, dark and quiet. After what I witnessed today, I know she is going to make a fine teacher.

I am glad I said "Yes!"