Angela's Lesson

I stand in front of the class for the first time. This is going to be difficult. What am I even doing here? This is the class I didn’t want.

Usually, the first day of school has smiling students dressed in new clothes. The children staring back at me have clean clothes; they aren’t smiling. These are kids from the Colonias. Not all of their homes have running water and sewer. Before the end of the year, many will do a seasonal migration up north to pick crops.

Spotty school attendance and frequent migration have somehow caused these students to be about three years behind on average. Some have a language barrier. Some are probably hungry. Their textbook screams low expectations.

As I begin my first-day introduction at my classroom podium, I hear a knock at the door. When I go to open it, I am greeted by a security guard and a student.

“I have one that’s in your class.” The security guard ushers the student in. The child is about five feet six and is wearing an odd-looking cowboy hat. He has a huge grin on his face. The security guard gives me an accusing look as though I’m responsible for the episode.

That was the day I met Adan. Adan wasn’t mischievous; he just liked to be everywhere and investigate everything.

What a way to start the year!

I can feel the tension in the back of my head. I wish this were not my first class of the day; I am expecting headaches this year.

When I showed one of the older, more cynical teachers my schedule, he said, “Don’t worry too much. They’ll never graduate anyway.” Perhaps that’s part of the reason no one wants these classes. It’s easy to look like a brilliant teacher when you have motivated, problem-free students.

Back at the podium, I launch into my first-day introduction. Bored stares greet me. I pump up the enthusiasm. Part of my enthusiasm is speaking faster and louder. A hand goes up in the back.

“Yes?”

“Can you speak slower? We’re having a hard time understanding you?”

“Oh, sure.” I resume the lesson and finish. The classwork I assign seems to be met with more apathy than I have ever seen. About half the students attempt the work. I have to remember to stay positive and perhaps create a reward system. I’ll figure that out later.

A couple of weeks into the year, Angel stands up and walks to the back of the room. He’s punching the wall, softly but repeatedly. I continue teaching and ignore his behavior for about five minutes. Finally, “Angel, sit back down.”

I’m concerned. This guy is so tense, he looks like someone who wants to explode. I need to check with the counselor to see if he has outbursts.

Later that day, I located the freshman counselor. “I have a student in my class named Angel. He’ll get up and punch the wall for no apparent reason.”

“I know Angel; that’s just the way he expresses himself.”

I really don’t know what to say. The poor woman is a counselor to almost two thousand students. I guess she doesn’t have the time to dive into anything too deeply. I get the message, deal with it.

About four weeks into the year, my evaluator comes into my room for an informal walk-through. He is the person who grades me. It is a bad time. Angel is punching the wall. No one notices. But Adan is crawling across the desks in the back, and he is bothering people.

My evaluator looks at the students. “Is this your fundamentals class?”

“Yes.”

“Good luck.” He said with sincerity.

It seemed more of an acknowledgment of the difficulty of the situation. If he were more direct, he would have said something like, good luck, you’re on your own.

The implication was I know this one is difficult, I probably won’t grade you based on this class.

I feel a sense of relief. If this class won’t affect my continued employment, I can experiment. Traditional teaching doesn’t always work.

The days pass, and we become accustomed to each other. Not comfortable, accustomed.

The students file into the class and begin taking their seats. Class will start shortly.

Looking out the window, Adan is running across the lawn in the wrong direction. Oh well, the security guard will bring him to class, eventually. The child is just a free spirit! Another day in education. Time to start.

I stare out at the class and start marking on the overhead projector.

“The purpose of today is to learn to do one-step equations…”

“You know, I can do that better than you.” Angela speaks up.

“What?”

“I can do that better than you.” She rises from her desk and starts toward the front.

“Wait, there is more to teaching than just the lecture.”

“Like what?”

“Decide what to teach, plan the lesson, and then decide how to test the material.”

“I can still do that better than you.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll give you the topic I am going to teach two days from now. If you can come in with some sort of plan and assessment tomorrow, you can have the class the next day.”

“I’ll get it, you’ll see.”

Angela and Adan are my two extremes. Mostly, Angela is dead serious. Despite her small stature and plain appearance, she’s a leader. She is equally likely to be helping a student as she would call them out for disrupting the class. She acts more like an adult and can be as stubborn as one as well.

The next day, Angela comes to my desk after class.

“Here.” She places some papers on my desk.

I look at the papers and am actually impressed. She has her plan for teaching the lesson typed out. Accompanying that is a worksheet for the students to show their understanding of the lesson. This should be interesting.

The big day comes. Angela is at her desk with her papers and ready to go.

“Class, you heard Angela a couple of days ago. She wants to teach today, and so far she has done a great job, so treat her as the teacher.”

I step to the back of the room. It amuses me somewhat to see a five-foot, fifteen-year-old female at my podium standing with authority.

“The purpose of today is to learn to solve two-step equations.” I notice her intro is much like mine. But, all students pay attention to her but one.

“Eyes up here, Juan.”

Now she has everyone’s attention.

It’s very enlightening to watch. Not only are the students listening attentively, but they actively support Angela during the lecture. They ask questions and seem eager to answer when she calls on them.

“And that’s the end of the lecture part. I’ll give you an assignment now.”

The students cheer her lecture!

Having one of their own at the front seems to empower all of them.

They receive the work and, as if to prove a point, all finish. Angela collects their papers as they are done.

“I forgot my least favorite part of teaching — grading.”

“No problem, I’ll have them for you tomorrow.”

The experience of the class was so different I can’t ignore it. I speculate about what the difference was. The main idea I came up with is that when Angela was teaching, my classroom became their classroom. They had control. Given their living circumstances and the way some teachers treat remedial students, that could be very important.

I get the graded papers from Angela. “Very nice, I say.”

At the podium again, I see the students and remember yesterday.

“Let’s stop today and regroup.” I start.

“I’ve been teaching by the standard method they tell us to use in school. I get the sense that there may be another way. It’s a partnership; I teach, you learn. For now, forget the teaching; tell me how you can best learn the material.

“You talk too much.” Dawn says.

“Got it.”

“No homework!”

“Nice try.”

“What would help you learn the material?”

I see some doubtful faces that seem to say, “Is he serious?”

“We want to talk to each other while we do the work. Why do I have to wait for you to come around when I can ask the person next to me?”

“Good point.” I see hope in some eyes.

“Group work!”

“Group work is fine as long as we have individual testing.”

The students become more interested.

“We want to choose our groups.”

“We can do that, but if the groups no longer function for learning, I am going to choose the next time…”

The discussion goes on for a significant portion of the class.

Now that we have the new scheme implemented, I am more of a leader and supporter. The students’ goal is now learning. They get to suggest improvements. I get to test the improvements against test scores.

Angela has become my second in command. She and the other three group leaders keep everyone focused and learning. They own the class. I provide a brief lecture and help where needed.

I am not sure whether I will have to make adjustments later. For now, I just appreciate having an easy class in the morning.

I think I will go back and tell my cynical teacher friend that Angela plans not only to graduate but to go to college to be a teacher. I am sure she will make a good one.