Friday, March 02, 2007

what goes around...

I try to put all of life into perspective, and oftentimes other people or situations do it for me. I was sitting at the kitchen table last night eating a rather old and frost-bitten Lean Cuisine dinner, and my 16 year old came bursting through the door. Her day hadn't ended on a good note to say the least, and she was on the verbal warpath, talking about her art teacher. He's a personal friend and gives her private art instruction as well, so I understood exactly what she was talking about as she went on and on. He apparently had not had a good day either teaching high schoolers art concepts, and thus, her class being the last one of the day, the difficulties mounted and compounded with interest. While I don't like cutting my kid (or anyone else's) slack for not doing work or knowing what they ought to know, Beck was right on the money about her teacher. He's talking to his students, who are basically pretty uncultural KIDS, on the same level as personal friends and with the same experience. The problem here is knowing how to address the group you're working with, repeating, re-enforcing, reiterating and tying concepts together with what is being done hands-on. It's just like-Beck said it well-being a mom.

So there stood my teenaged daughter, talking passionately about what her teacher should have done, how he could make things easier for his students, how she works with our neighbor's son who is in elementary school, using fun stuff, music and food if necessary (he's not a lightweight by any stretch!) She kept telling me, "You know, Mom...you taught Sunday school, AWANAS, us kids..." Ah, now that was nice to hear. It seemed to me that I have a budding teacher on my hands! She told me she was so angry after class that she chased some little brats who were throwing snowballs at a little girl down our street, caught one, grabbed him by the shoulders and read him the riot act. Is this MY kid? Wow. I think she could hold her own in any teaching situation.

I had no idea when this postscript was born that she would find her heart where mine is, but even more so. Moments like these sure restore faith to a body.

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