I teach a lot of class sessions at my job. Last year alone I taught almost 150 information literacy sessions. These ranged from classes about how to find books on the shelf and how to efficiently find scholarly articles to how to read those articles and what not to do in a presentation. Before taking the job, I had taught exactly one such session to a group of 8 undergraduate college students. Thankfully I'd also taken a brilliant one-semester class in graduate school about information literacy pedagogy. That is the extent of my formal training.
To fill in the rest of my repertoire, I beg, borrow, and shamelessly steal ideas, activities, style, and inspiration from some of my best teachers and professors. The rest of this post is a thank you letter to those amazing people who have helped make me the teacher I am today.
David Bowman, my high school choir teacher is one of my biggest inspirations. From him I've borrowed a lot of my style and my approach, and my philosophy. He always got to know us as human beings as well as singers. He opened his classroom space before and after school to give us a haven to escape the rest of the drama of high school. He challenged us and didn't let us rest on our laurels. He found a way to show us that music is about more than just the notes on a page. He taught me about death and loss, political oligarchies, British naval history, Spanish poets, and the beauty of Hebrew prayers. He was theatrical and exuberant feeding off our energy. But it wasn't all fun and games. He commanded that space and earned our respect. And we were given that respect in return. My spark and my flame I take from him. And my horrible habit of tossing the wireless mouse or whatever is in my hands around while I stalk around the room. That's his fault too.
My storytelling and whiteboard skills I've borrowed from a college history professor. You haven't learned about the Civil War until you've had M. Phillip Lucas chalk each battle on the board of a freezing basement classroom. He could take the driest content and find a way to spin it into a story that not only included, but required visual aids. These spun tales covered ditch digging, Lincoln's rise to power, the dangers of sharecropping, and naval blockades. You couldn't read a word of his handwriting, but you knew the peach orchard and sunken road when you saw it. (Each battle seemed to have one, he figured they just loaded it up on a wagon and took it with them.) And because you too were so often a part of the story, you remembered it. My COM101 arrest story and my ENG101 paper organizing charts are all him.
Lynda Hakken and Catherine Stewart, the choir accompanist and my college history adviser, are to thank for my office and out-of-classroom demeanor. Their offices' were havens to me in college. As soon as you walked into either one, you found yourself in space entirely theirs, but one you felt welcome and almost at home in. Lynda sometimes had candy and answers to question beyond her piano and organ expertise. And Catherine. She's the reason I became a librarian. From day one, she got to know me the scared and slightly-overwhelmed 18-year old girl who claimed Vanity Fair was her favorite book. Three years later, she asked what I had thought of the film and enrolled me in her Chicago course that changed my entire career path. They were sideline cheerleaders and confidants for me, even when I didn't know I needed it. I can only hope to be half as instrumental in one of my students' lives. They taught me how to be a teacher outside the confines of a classroom's four walls.
And my intentionally intrusive classroom management and student organization advising style I patterned after John Harp, Student Senate faculty adviser. JHarp as we affectionately called him, mostly behind his back, lead from the side. He handed us the reins, and occasionally called out questions from the back seat of the car until he felt the need to step in and ask if we needed help. He taught me how to say no. And how to balance work and social life. (Yes, this is more balanced than I used to be...be scared.) From the observer position he got to know us better than we knew, and provided us with the silent confidence we needed to succeed. Oh, and how to needle us into being the best student leader we could be all while reminding us that sometimes taking cold medicine and going to bed was smarter than staying up all night to finish that last bit of politics homework.
Beyond these amazing people I get my timing and willingness to teach beyond my expertise from Shannon Reed, my creativity from Rosemary Urbanick, my digital organization from Craig Allin, my affinity for bribing with candy from Christine Meyer, and my passion for what I do from every great teacher I've ever had.
Thank you.
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Post word total: 860
Overall word total: 2,198
Words left to write: 22,802
To fill in the rest of my repertoire, I beg, borrow, and shamelessly steal ideas, activities, style, and inspiration from some of my best teachers and professors. The rest of this post is a thank you letter to those amazing people who have helped make me the teacher I am today.
David Bowman, my high school choir teacher is one of my biggest inspirations. From him I've borrowed a lot of my style and my approach, and my philosophy. He always got to know us as human beings as well as singers. He opened his classroom space before and after school to give us a haven to escape the rest of the drama of high school. He challenged us and didn't let us rest on our laurels. He found a way to show us that music is about more than just the notes on a page. He taught me about death and loss, political oligarchies, British naval history, Spanish poets, and the beauty of Hebrew prayers. He was theatrical and exuberant feeding off our energy. But it wasn't all fun and games. He commanded that space and earned our respect. And we were given that respect in return. My spark and my flame I take from him. And my horrible habit of tossing the wireless mouse or whatever is in my hands around while I stalk around the room. That's his fault too.
My storytelling and whiteboard skills I've borrowed from a college history professor. You haven't learned about the Civil War until you've had M. Phillip Lucas chalk each battle on the board of a freezing basement classroom. He could take the driest content and find a way to spin it into a story that not only included, but required visual aids. These spun tales covered ditch digging, Lincoln's rise to power, the dangers of sharecropping, and naval blockades. You couldn't read a word of his handwriting, but you knew the peach orchard and sunken road when you saw it. (Each battle seemed to have one, he figured they just loaded it up on a wagon and took it with them.) And because you too were so often a part of the story, you remembered it. My COM101 arrest story and my ENG101 paper organizing charts are all him.
Lynda Hakken and Catherine Stewart, the choir accompanist and my college history adviser, are to thank for my office and out-of-classroom demeanor. Their offices' were havens to me in college. As soon as you walked into either one, you found yourself in space entirely theirs, but one you felt welcome and almost at home in. Lynda sometimes had candy and answers to question beyond her piano and organ expertise. And Catherine. She's the reason I became a librarian. From day one, she got to know me the scared and slightly-overwhelmed 18-year old girl who claimed Vanity Fair was her favorite book. Three years later, she asked what I had thought of the film and enrolled me in her Chicago course that changed my entire career path. They were sideline cheerleaders and confidants for me, even when I didn't know I needed it. I can only hope to be half as instrumental in one of my students' lives. They taught me how to be a teacher outside the confines of a classroom's four walls.
And my intentionally intrusive classroom management and student organization advising style I patterned after John Harp, Student Senate faculty adviser. JHarp as we affectionately called him, mostly behind his back, lead from the side. He handed us the reins, and occasionally called out questions from the back seat of the car until he felt the need to step in and ask if we needed help. He taught me how to say no. And how to balance work and social life. (Yes, this is more balanced than I used to be...be scared.) From the observer position he got to know us better than we knew, and provided us with the silent confidence we needed to succeed. Oh, and how to needle us into being the best student leader we could be all while reminding us that sometimes taking cold medicine and going to bed was smarter than staying up all night to finish that last bit of politics homework.
Beyond these amazing people I get my timing and willingness to teach beyond my expertise from Shannon Reed, my creativity from Rosemary Urbanick, my digital organization from Craig Allin, my affinity for bribing with candy from Christine Meyer, and my passion for what I do from every great teacher I've ever had.
Thank you.
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Post word total: 860
Overall word total: 2,198
Words left to write: 22,802
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