zxing
Sep 13, 2011
Undergraduate / "If at first you don't suceed..." Yale Supplement [5]
Excellent essay, just needs a few wording changes
"If at first you don't succeed..." I prompted Jamie. The blonde 9 year old looked at his tennis racket and then down at the floor. Dribbling the green ball with his malformed right arm, he suddenly looked up. "Get new batteries!" he exclaimed, gleaming with pride. "It works for everything!"
What I was attempting (and clearly failing) to do was to teach Jamie a lesson in resilience. Missing his overheads for the past 5 feeds, Jamie refused to go on. And I, being his coach for the outreach tennis program, kept coaxing him to try once more.However, my stab at wisdom evidently surrendered to Jamie's practical reasoning . "And so it does, and so it does...But since your racket doesn't have batteries in it, I guess we need to do it the old fashioned way! Come on, Jamie, one more try. You'll get it this time!" I cheerfully encouraged. After demonstrating the correct way to hit that pesky overhead, I fed him one last ball. And sure enough, he nailed it.
It's bizarre being a seventeen-year-old educator. On one hand, I'm very much a kid myself-hitting the snooze button no less than 3 times most mornings , having many almost- late moments to class, dressing up for the midnight premier of Harry Potter 7... Yet oO n the other, I'm a tennis coach for disabled kids, a tutor for K-8th graders in math and reading, and anteacherinstructor for my piano students. I'm just an average sleep-deprived high school-er to the world, but a role model and leader to my kidspupils . I continually find myself alternating between feeling far younger and far older than I actually am, and strikingly, although I learn a great deal as a student, it's the times that I'm instructing that I gain the most knowledge.
Often times when I'm demonstrating how to divide correctly with candy pieces, my kids exclaim "Wow! How did you do that?" Often times when new piano students see the inside strings of my piano, they question, "Why are there wires there? Is it to pluck them like a rubber band-so they go doiiinnnggg?" I chuckle, amused that they notice such detail, and move on. But I've realized that these 'off the wall' commentsmeanrepresent far more than just the peculiar words of children. They representstand for ideas often forgotten or lost bylost to 'adults'-ideas like simplicity and optimism, inquisitiveness and innocence. They provide the window to see inside children's unique societies, their views of the world, the psychology of their minds. Observing them, I've noticed an amusing age hierarchy, where a six often sulks butand defers a wanted toy to a seven. I've perceived the aloofness kids give toward 'scary adults', then discard it when withamong others their age. And the fact that many of these odd behaviors transcend into adulthood, just under the guise of politeness and formality? Truly fascinating.
When I had set out to teach, I expected to do just that, teach. Yet the teaching became two-way as I learned as much from my kids as they did from me. With their odd anecdotes, petty fights, unusual observations , and spontaneous verbosity,my teachthey taught me how to understand the world the world better, remind me that I'm getting old, and enlighten me of the simplenesson the simplicity of life. Of the bright optimism of the future, of the inherent curiosity we have, of appreciating today--and most importantly-- of striving for the good in the world. For, when asked what you want to be when you're growing up, who doesn't reply, "I want to be a cake when I get older. Then people will enjoy me and smile when they eat me!"
Excellent essay, just needs a few wording changes
"If at first you don't succeed..." I prompted Jamie. The blonde 9 year old looked at his tennis racket and then down at the floor. Dribbling the green ball with his malformed right arm, he suddenly looked up. "Get new batteries!" he exclaimed, gleaming with pride. "It works for everything!"
What I was attempting (and clearly failing) to do was to teach Jamie a lesson in resilience. Missing his overheads for the past 5 feeds, Jamie refused to go on. And I, being his coach for the outreach tennis program, kept coaxing him to try once more.
It's bizarre being a seventeen-year-old educator. On one hand, I'm very much a kid myself-hitting the snooze button no less than 3 times most mornings , having many almost- late moments to class, dressing up for the midnight premier of Harry Potter 7.
Often times when I'm demonstrating how to divide correctly with candy pieces, my kids exclaim "Wow! How did you do that?" Often times when new piano students see the inside strings of my piano, they question, "Why are there wires there? Is it to pluck them like a rubber band-so they go doiiinnnggg?" I chuckle, amused that they notice such detail, and move on. But I've realized that these 'off the wall' comments
When I had set out to teach, I expected to do just that, teach. Yet the teaching became two-way as I learned as much from my kids as they did from me. With their odd anecdotes, petty fights, unusual observations , and spontaneous verbosity,
