A few days ago I met the brightest eight-year old I’ve ever encountered.
We talked about his love of books and he patiently spent some time explaining his attempt to solve a maths problem that I struggled with. He mentioned to me that he’d been reading about relativity recently. The only thing I know about relativity is that it kind of rhymes with nativity.
What amazes me most is that this child isn’t overbearing in the classroom. I’ve seen him work alongside his classmates with care and consideration, encouraging their participation in a group instead of simply taking over a project. When he responds to a question, he doesn’t do so in a bored, know-it-all voice; he often prefaces his answers with an earnest “Is it...?”
This child is clearly unique in his academic ability and regard for others. I do not think, though, that he is unique is his ability to teach us. I am convinced that there are many things that children can show us; things we may have forgotten.
I know this because in the past few months, I’ve been shown several things.
I listened to a nine-year old who came up to me to excitedly share the fact that he’d made up a song about a sharpener. Yes, that’s funny. But it also made me think: if a sharpener can be exciting, so can many other things in life.
I’ve met six-year olds who made it clear that hugging is a completely acceptable way to show your affection for someone, even if you’ve known them for less than a week.
I watched as a class full of eight-year olds erupted into spontaneous, heartfelt applause when an autistic student who often finds it difficult to communicate her thoughts came up with a good answer to a question.
I learnt that you can make friends in about six seconds when a five-year old girl I’d never met before smilingly and spontaneously informed me what her special nickname for one of the teaching assistants was. She said this to me in a matter-of-fact-tone as she walked along the school corridor, as though we had known each other for years.
The irony of it all is that they call me a teacher.
We talked about his love of books and he patiently spent some time explaining his attempt to solve a maths problem that I struggled with. He mentioned to me that he’d been reading about relativity recently. The only thing I know about relativity is that it kind of rhymes with nativity.
What amazes me most is that this child isn’t overbearing in the classroom. I’ve seen him work alongside his classmates with care and consideration, encouraging their participation in a group instead of simply taking over a project. When he responds to a question, he doesn’t do so in a bored, know-it-all voice; he often prefaces his answers with an earnest “Is it...?”
This child is clearly unique in his academic ability and regard for others. I do not think, though, that he is unique is his ability to teach us. I am convinced that there are many things that children can show us; things we may have forgotten.
I know this because in the past few months, I’ve been shown several things.
I listened to a nine-year old who came up to me to excitedly share the fact that he’d made up a song about a sharpener. Yes, that’s funny. But it also made me think: if a sharpener can be exciting, so can many other things in life.
I’ve met six-year olds who made it clear that hugging is a completely acceptable way to show your affection for someone, even if you’ve known them for less than a week.
I watched as a class full of eight-year olds erupted into spontaneous, heartfelt applause when an autistic student who often finds it difficult to communicate her thoughts came up with a good answer to a question.
I learnt that you can make friends in about six seconds when a five-year old girl I’d never met before smilingly and spontaneously informed me what her special nickname for one of the teaching assistants was. She said this to me in a matter-of-fact-tone as she walked along the school corridor, as though we had known each other for years.
The irony of it all is that they call me a teacher.