Skip to main content

Child to Child...10.8.10

Child to Child
I watched in amazement how two of my students interacted this week.  It reminded me of my own kids.  You see, sometimes my 2-year old son will turn a deaf ear to me when I need him to do something; yet when our 3-year old daughter steps in, he listens.  It's almost as if they are in their own little world; communicating in some "kid" language that we, as adults, have long forgotten.
I noticed the same thing in my classroom this week.  I was struggling to get something across to one of my students.  I just wasn't making the connection I needed to make.  Another student of mine, who was right by us, stepped in and like magic, the child-to-child connection manifested itself.  I sat back and watched the two interact in a way that was so utterly natural for them.  The first smiled as the second explained what needed to be done.  The second sounded so mature in their speaking yet maintained a connection with the first  that superseded that maturity.  A connection that, as an adult, I have long forgotten how to establish.
At least I thought I forgot.
Later in the week, I witnessed the same exchange between the same two students.  I watched closer this time---ignoring the words being spoken and focusing on the delivery. 
There it was--the delivery. 
Smiling eyes met and a gentle voice ensued.  A aura of cooperation was instantly felt between them and laughter was present.  Heart-felt praise was given and respect for each other was demonstrated.  All of this happened in a matter of 2 minutes.  The idea was conveyed and the first child was all the better, as was the second. 
And of course, so was I.  For my students (and my own kids) just taught me something. 
Mr. Casten
Oct. 8, 2010

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Looking Out

Looking Out Originally written May 27, 2015 Lightly edited for clarity in August 2026. Just hours ago, my students left. They are on their way to summer adventures, family time, and friends. Just as quickly as they walked into my life, they walked out again. Yet each of them will always be a part of my life. When a school year begins, my new students are just that—students. They arrive as a group, and at first there is little that distinguishes them beyond their physical appearance. They are quiet, reserved, and and still unknown to me. During those first few days, I snap a picture of each one, not yet knowing who they really are. I work to learn their names and match each one to a classroom number. I try to figure out who knows whom from the neighborhood. I share pieces of my own life, hoping they'll eventually share theirs. Time meanders on. Slowly, they begin to let their light shine. Slowly, they begin to share what's important to them. Slowly, I'm afforded the opportu...
Post a Comment
Read more

Art & Science

     The familiar winds of autumn blew rapidly through the playground.   Ponytails flying, unzipped jackets flapping, and soaring playground balls all took errant paths.        Just as fall has briskly left so has trimester one.   Reports cards were sent home today and I plan on placing the final touches to each student’s conference narrative.   The practice of filling out the narrative for my students has become one of my favorite “at home” aspects of teaching.   I look forward to retreating to my little office in the basement, surrounded by the faint noises of my family upstairs, and writing.   I seem to enter into a world only my students and I really know; the life of Room 211 on a daily basis.       My mind pictures each student as I am writing about them.   Their faces make an entrance into my thoughts followed by the smile I see each day.   I travel back in t...
2 comments
Read more

Running...

Running... Original post written on August 18, 2012. Minor changes for clarity made in Aug 2026. Twelve years. That's how long I have been teaching at Lincoln. Twelve years. That's how long I have taken the same route from my house to school. In that time I have seen many houses for sale, then sold. Some were torn down to make room for a new house, a new family, and new students. I've seen the streets that I traverse through Elmhurst being ripped apart and rebuilt to make them safer and more driver friendly, not to mention more car-friendly. Twelve years. I've seen high school kids standing on corners, waiting for the school bus to pick them up for school. Some of them recognize my car while others recognize me as their former teacher. Most of them, however, probably do not pay much attention to me as I pass by. Among all that I see, Monday through Friday mornings there is an unmistakable figure, usually two blocks ahead of me on Fairfield. He is a man. He has slightly ...
Post a Comment
Read more