I started this a couple weeks ago.
But poetry, even bad poetry, is more difficult than counting out 250 words so there was some… waiting.
Teaching makes me think about waiting from the other side. Not like Jonah sitting in the whale’s belly, or Buddha under a tree doing nothing. Teaching makes me think of waiting as the purposeful time between actions. More like the civil rights lunch counter sit-in,
or standing stalwart in front of tanks at Tiananmen Square.
It is much harder to describe. But mastering waiting means using that time between actions to set the course for the next action.
I firmly believe that great educators are great waiters.
Never try to out wait teachers:
They are masters of the waiting arts;
- Pregnant pauses
- Averted glances
- Awkward silences
Master teachers wield with patience and calm
Undeterred by defiant sweaty palm
Where mere mortals will push through or call a victim out
A teacher will hold and force the dormant thoughts to sprout.
Seconds tick by, each carefully;
- And Stirred
While the educator calmly waits unperturbed and cool.
Time is never wasted, too precious is that in school.
They watch for fidgeting fingers or a curiously itching head,
Those brave enough to struggle, those that left the problem dead;
- Ripe with contemplations
- Seasoned with frustrations
- Asked in expectations
The answers’ rightness or wrongness are nothing but a ruse
It’s the learning the teacher awaits and will not refuse.