How teachers in the classroom are like magicians on the stage

Sometimes the best way to describe the work a teacher does in the classroom is with the word magical. Simply magical. I’m not referring to fancy card tricks, pulling rabbits out of hats or making people disappear. I am talking about magical in terms of wonderment and delight, the remarkable and the incredible, the hard-to-believe and exceptional. What our teachers deal with on a daily basis and yet overcome so that they can still mold the minds of children is nothing short of incredible.

Of course, yes, I am certainly biased. In my humble opinion, teachers are some of the most important people who walk this Earth. They can be found hidden in the background of every medical advancement, every technological progression and every historical movement that has altered the course of humankind. If we pause to consider the many remarkable feats a teacher accomplishes in a career, there is no way we couldn’t marvel in the magic.

But sometimes, though, the little things seem the most incredible, and that’s why teachers are so lucky. Every day is an opportunity to make small miracles happen in the lives of children. Miracles that culminate into a phenomenon, the very definition of magic.

Teachers use every personal tragedy, every life-lesson, every moment of truth, and every bump in the road as a trick up their sleeve, a tool of the trade that will one day, someday marvel a child. They waste no personal experience. Countless times in their classroom, teachers will draw upon the lesson of the greatest teacher of all time – LIFE. They will dig deep into their repertoire of life lessons and make poverty disappear, disability vanish, and impediments cease to exist, if only for a moment. That’s why teachers are so lucky. They get to be magicians.

Take Melissa Phelps, fifth grade math teacher at Blanchard Elementary School. She is the David Copperfield of magical teachers. She has used her past experiences as a bench warmer and a wallflower to find the invisible kids in her classroom and bring their existence into the spotlight.

Mrs. Phelps wasn’t always the outgoing individual you may see boldly teaching a group of high-energy fifth graders. She grew up as a self-proclaimed “wallpaper child”. Her shy demeanor caused her to find contentment in the shadows, but as a counterbalance to her comfort on the sidelines, Melissa’s teachers drew out the hidden jewels of her personality. They helped her see her trustworthy character, her friendliness and kindness and her positive leadership. They worked their magic, and Melissa outgrew her shyness.

So when she met a blonde haired 10-year-old boy who reminded her a lot of her former, overshadowed self, she perked up and knew exactly what to do. She returned the favor. She did what her teachers had done – she worked her magic.

He was a test, though. His inferiority complex was entrenched. His quitter mentality was deep-rooted. His lack of confidence was demoralizing to both him and his math teacher. But Mrs. Phelps became laser-focused on the blonde haired 10-year-old boy. That alone was a massive step in the right direction because she noticed him. She made the invisible visible. From there she just chiseled away at the concrete wall he had built around himself. Slowly, methodically, Mrs. Phelps introduced the young boy to his own ability and helped his low self-esteem disappear.

The lessons Mrs. Phelps taught this little boy about his own capabilities go way beyond mathematics. They go much deeper than skills with numbers. The magic Mrs. Phelps sprinkled on this little guy will far outreach any content he learns in school because what she taught him will last a lifetime. She has altered the very course of his life, and you just can’t debate how important that is, how exceptionally incredible that is.

This blonde hair 10-year-old boy just might win the Nobel Peace Prize one day. He might find the cure for Alzheimer’s or invent a way to teleport. He may grow up to become an awesome father of four or save an elderly lady from a house fire. Who knows what the future holds for Mrs. Phelps’s student? It sure is fun to speculate, though.

I do know one thing for sure. The magic dust his fifth grade math teacher sprinkled all around him certainly changed the direction of his life.

It doesn’t get any more magical than that.

Sheryl Green is a secondary educator from Columbus. Email her at sherylgree14@yahoo.com.