Things We Would Change (if we could)

I think all of us have thought about the things in our lives or days that we would go back and change if we could.  Here’s my list of what I would do differently:

1) Not jumped in the deep end of the pool without my floaties when I was 4.  I thought I could swim.  I thought wrong.

2) Realized BEFORE middle school that playing Dungeons and Dragons really wasn’t so cool.

3) Concentrated on football early in life instead of violin.  Oh, high school could have been so different…

4) Asked out that pretty redhead in college that always smiled at me when we passed.  If only her smile didn’t render me completely speechless as well…

5) Not gotten in the car the night of March 21, 2001.  The next time I would be conscious would be 2 months later.

I look back on these moments with remorse, but would I really change them? 

-          Almost drowning at age 4 didn’t make me fearful; rather, it helped make me realize (along with a bunch of other foolish things I did over the next 25 or so years) that there is a difference between fearlessness and reckless impulsivity. 

-          Not being cool enough for my best friend gave me a lesson on what is socially acceptable and what isn't.  It also gave us both lessons on friendship and forgiveness. In 2005 – almost 20 years later – I was the best man at his wedding.

-          Waiting until my senior year to play football because I thought I was too small – and subsequently becoming a starter – made me realize that I should never underestimate myself. 

-          I’m pretty sure my future wife (whoever she might be) will make me thankful that I never ended up with anyone else. 

-          Despite the grueling recovery path and the things I’m no longer capable of, the car accident 11 years ago had a profound impact on my outlook on life and my spiritual walk.  I’m a better man because of what I went through.

Yesterday, I had another moment which I wish I could change.  On the day before Spring Break, I gave my students a math test.  I really wish I hadn’t.

I don’t remember a whole lot of what I thought when I was in the 5^th grade.  I’m guessing many of us don’t – either that or we have a warped opinion of what went through our minds at that age.  My only thought yesterday was,

“I should give this test because we just finished the unit, and I’ll have time to grade them over the break!”  

I never once thought that the kids wouldn’t be focused.  That is, not until they were taking the test and 2 of my most responsible students kept looking around like they thought the Easter Bunny was going to walk through the door any moment and give them chocolate eggs. 

Mr. Lin:  “Willie*, what are you doing?”

Willie:  “Huh?”                   

Mr. Lin: "Are you OK?  You haven’t written anything in 10 minutes.”

Willie: “My brain hurts.  I don’t want to do any more math.”

Haley*:  “Same here.  Do I have to finish this?”

Note to self:  The day before vacation is NEVER a good time to give assessments.  Almost all the kids turned in their tests with 20 minutes remaining.  Several students left full pages without answers on them.  3 kids fell out of their chairs for no apparent reason.  What a disaster.

A few weeks ago, I had this conversation with a student after she had gotten angry as I was trying to help correct her homework:

Mr. Lin:  “Are you angry because you did your homework wrong?”

Student:  “Yes.  You’re always mad at me because I get things wrong.”

Mr. Lin:  “Look at me.  Do I seem mad?”

Student:  “No.  But I didn’t do it right.  So you’re mad.”

Mr. Lin:  “Getting things wrong isn’t a bad thing.  We can always learn from our mistakes.”

Student:  “But I don’t want to make mistakes.  I want to do things that are easy.”

Mr Lin:  “No one is perfect, so we all make mistakes.  The important thing isn’t that we don’t make mistakes.  It’s that we are able to make mistakes and learn from them.  If you always do things that are easy, would you be learning anything?”

Student: “No…”

With all the mistakes I’ve made while teaching over the past two years, I’ve had all too many times where I wanted a do-over on my day.  I’ve had all too many times where I’ve been angry.  I’ve been angry at my students.  I’ve been angry at myself.  And, I’ve been angry because God’s plan for me was to become a teacher.  In this moment however, I realize that God is speaking those same words to me that I said to that little girl several weeks ago. 

Here’s to learning and reflecting on my experience.  Here’s to (hopefully) becoming a better teacher.

*Note:  Names are changed

Dispelling a Myth

The story of Cassandra

In Greek mythology, Cassandra was a Trojan prophetess who had the curse of always being correct, but with no one ever believing her. Her story takes place during the Trojan War.

After 10 years of war with Troy, the Greeks left an infamous gift of deceit for their opponents – the legendary wooden horse that served to end the war victorious for the Greeks. Cassandra was the only voice of dissent in the city, saying that bringing the giant horse inside the gates would lead to the destruction of Troy. She was mocked for her opinion, and the rest is mythological history.

One of the most frustrating things as a person is when you know the answer to something but your opinion goes unheeded. While it might make us feel better to say, “I told you so,” we know in the grand scheme of things being right isn’t all that big of a deal. However, there are times where the stakes are high and the consequences of our decisions reverberate for years to come.

Uncultivated Brilliance

Isaac* is a brilliant young man. He knows more about science, history, and random facts than anyone I have ever encountered. He takes an unparalleled fascination with things that pique his interest, and he devours information that he takes upon himself to research about these subjects. In essence, the boy is a walking encyclopedia whose mind is like a steel trap – nothing escapes it.

Is this boy the next Bill Gates? Will he be headed to the college of his choice in a few years? Will success at every level be this child’s academic trajectory? I dream wistfully at the possibilities he has in front of him. If only this wasn’t just a vision. What does the future behold for such a fascinating young man?

Sadly, the answer is in question because the decision on how to educate students like Isaac is not in the hands of the various Cassandras that are providing sound and expert advice. The decision is in the hands of people that are experts in loving their child and have the best intentions – but not true experts in child development. This is similar to the decision to bring a wooden horse into the city of Troy - it wasn’t the decision of the resident expert, Cassandra. It was in the hands of King Priam, the king who loved his city as his own children. As much as this great king knew what was best for his city in most instances, at the moment it mattered most he didn’t follow the advice of the person that knew the most. His decision doomed Troy.

The reason I am discussing Homer’s Iliad is because brilliant young Isaac is a child that has special needs. Not in the sense that many of us from an older generation view it; he doesn’t have Down’s syndrome, doesn’t have low IQ, and he seems completely normal – even brilliant – when speaking and interacting with him. However, somewhere along the way from his brain to his pencil, his thoughts get lost. Isaac, a boy that might live down the street as you, go to the same church you do, or even live under you own roof, is a boy whose mind requires special cultivation in order for it to achieve it’s full potential. But then again, aren’t we all uniquely and wonderfully made? Don’t we all need to be nurtured in a manner that is befitting our own special needs?

As brilliant as Isaac is, and as much as his parents love them, parents of Isaacs around the nation are ignoring the advice of others that also want what’s best for their children. They are hesitant to adhere to the advice that a more accommodating environment is needed to harness their precious child’s immense talent. They are listening to the gremlins of the past as opposed to the knowledge of people trained in education and human development.

A long time ago, special education was limited in scope to certain disabilities. Although it has undergone a significant overhaul over the years in both the spectrum of students it covers (gifted students, students with processing issues, and attention deficit students are now classified as special needs students) as well as the way that special education is administered (in most cases students stay with all other students in a classroom while specialists push in), the stigma of being a special ed student is still present. However, it isn’t present in the classroom with the students as it was when many of us were children. The stigma is felt by their parents. As a result of these misconstrued notions, well intentioned parents end up withholding the services that their children need. These parents are like King Priam – their love and intentions are not in question, but the results of their decision are destructive to the people they were seeking to protect.

This is not to say that Isaac’s future is as sealed as the citizens of Troy after King Priam ignored the pleas of Cassandra. Children sometimes outgrow obstacles to their learning. Other times, they find ways to cope with these issues. Maybe parents find other ways to help their child or get them the help that is needed later in their lives. However, that doesn’t change the fact that listening to Cassandra would have been sound advice.

Like most people, I like to be right. It’s a smug feeling when my opinions have been validated by results. However, when it comes to the education of brilliant young Isaacs around the world, it won’t feel good if I’m right. I want them to succeed without the help that child psychologists and teachers feel is essential. Whether or not these children get the help that they need, it doesn’t change my desire for them to achieve their highest potential. It also doesn’t change my desire for their parents to get them the help that will help them achieve their best.

Should I ever have an Isaac in my classroom, I hope I never have a time when I look sadly at the outcome of his life and think, “I told you so.” Instead, I hope more than anything to think, “Wow, look what he accomplished! Boy, was I wrong.”

*Editor's Note: Issac is a metaphor for special needs children across the nation that are not receiving the support they need. This is not intended to represent any individual student.

The Year of the Nickname

The Year of the Nickname







At the end of last quarter, as I was grading papers, one of my students walked in my door before her afterschool program began and said,

“Hi Bigfoot.”

I looked at her questioningly as she stood there without expression in front of me, blinking from behind her horn rimmed glasses. She is the smallest student in the 5th grade, has an adorable and ever-so-slight lisp, and a dry sense of humor that belies her age. I looked from my feet to hers, then replied,

“Hi Littlefoot,” and picked up the next test I was grading while pretending to peruse it.

“Why did you call me Littlefoot?” she asked after a few seconds.

I looked up from the test in my hands.

“Why did you call me Bigfoot?” I asked back to her.

“Because you have big feet.” Apparently, my size 10 shoes appeared enormous to this small child.

“Well, you have little feet,” I responded.

“Oh, ok. Bye!”

She turned around and walked out the door, a little spring to each step accompanying her little feet.

I’d guess that my experiences as a teacher aren’t entirely unique comparative to other teachers. With each day comes something totally new and unexpected, and with each year come things that resonate as the central theme of that school year. For me and my classroom, last year was the Year of the Stick.

According to the lunar calendar, the New Year began on January 23rd of this year. According to the Chinese zodiac, 2012 is the Year of the Dragon. In my classroom, this is not the Year of the Dragon. It is the Year of the Nickname.

The first nickname was borne from a joke one of my students told. The second – a nickname given to their teacher – came from the children’s imaginations. Along the way, other nicknames have been doled out to various members of the class – Pluto, Brynoceros, Gizmo, and Littlefoot among them. In January, Littlefoot came to me before school began one day as I was writing a message on the board. She handed me a note that now hangs on my refrigerator door:

Dear Mr. Bigfoot,

I need help with these things below. (Geometry, algebra, and fractions are circled). I really want to bump up my grade.

Love, Littlefoot

Underneath her writing she had drawn a series of feet of varying sizes. After I had finished reading, I looked at the adorable, bespectacled face that was blinking expressionlessly up at me. Although I was beaming inside, I did my best not to let that show.

“Don’t worry about algebra. That’ll be something you do in depth in the 7th grade. We will cover fractions again in our next unit so you’ll get plenty of practice. And, we just started our geometry unit so let’s wait a few days before you think you need help. If you still think that, I’ll be happy to work with you after school or during lunch.”

“Oh. Ok.” She turned and began to walk away.

“Hey Littlefoot,” I called to her. She turned around and looked expectantly at me.

“I love how you are taking your learning seriously. That means you will be just fine.”

She smiled at me, then turned and walked out of my room with the little spring in her step accompanying those little feet once more. She might have thought I meant that her math grades would be just fine, but my words were meant to have a larger scope. According to the Chinese Zodiac, a person who is a dragon has the following characteristics:

A dragon overcomes obstacles until success is his. He is energetic, decisive, optimistic, intelligent and ambitious. The Dragon person is self confident and impulsive and consequently does not always listen to the advice of others. He is also a perfectionist and he sets high standards for himself.




Sounds about right for my friend Littlefoot.

One day, long after she has left fifth grade, and after her high school and college graduations, maybe I’ll catch wind of what lofty heights she has achieved. In a moment which would epitomize the reward for being a teacher, my heart would smile as I think fondly back at my Valentine’s Day gift from her – a chocolate apple wrapped in gold foil simply labeled,

To: Bigfoot

From: Littlefoot

My dear Littlefoot, may those little feet spring you to great heights in your future.

Love,

Mr. Lin