Precious Cargo

Teaching does have its down days though, doesn’t it.

Those days when you’ve planned the best lesson you can and 10×9 still manage to derail it.

I’m no stranger to this. I still vividly remember J. rolling sideways along the desk growling in a deep, rich, gravelly roar (having just thrown his book across the room). Mercifully this was moments after a member of senior staff walked OUT of the room. Even more recently, same class, different student, A. brought his feet up onto the desk, grabbed them and pretended to drive himself, all the while making loud engine noises.

These things happen.

I guess the big question is: how do we deal with this?

Don’t think that this is a behaviour management post. It’s not. The real question is more:

How do we maintain a positive outlook on teaching and our students when we all know the realities of the classroom?

The only way I’ve found to be an idealist in the very, very real world of teaching is this: remember that every one of our students (and even colleagues) is someone’s Precious Cargo. Whilst I might only see them once or twice a week, to someone the child in front of me, growling or ‘driving’ their own feet, means the world to someone. They are their entire lives.

At 20, I went abroad on a trip with my two younger sisters and my mum said to me, in all seriousness, “Look after them.” What did she really mean by that? Actually, I think what she meant was that she was out of her mind with worry because all of her eggs were going to be in one basket. Sitting on the same plane on the way to Kenya, sitting on the same bus on the way to Voi, working in the same slums in Nairobi. If anything happened, she would lose us all. At once.

We are her Precious Cargo.

When J. and A. are there in front of us, giving it their all and inventing new ways to vex, perplex and stretch us, they are still someone’s Precious Cargo.

They’re the longed for baby someone delighted to hold in their arms. They are someone’s beloved grandchild, the proverbial apple of their eye. They’re someone’s pride and joy, their treasure to be protected above all else.

With this in mind, it forces me to think: how would I like my Precious Cargo treated? Can I dig deep and find the patience to care for them too, even when I’m at the end of my natural patience?

Can we see our classes as our Precious Cargo?

I like to think that, even on the worst day, the answer is, “Yes”.

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