We teach children, not subjects

When I was about 10 years old and starting my third year playing soccer, I showed up to the first day of practice to a disappointing rainy evening. My coach piled us all in her station wagon and began interviewing her new team on key information, namely what position we played. Most of us already had given our answers, when my coach asked the new chick sitting beside me, “What do you play, dear?” The rookie responded, “Soccer.”

I am publicly confessing that I laughed a little on the inside at the ludicrous response. “Duh! Everyone knows we’re out here to play soccer. Coach wants to know what position you play. You’re new at this whole soccer thing, aren’t you?” Mom would be proud; those were my thoughts, and that was one of the few times in my life when I actually thought before I spoke.

Imagine our reactions if we received similar answers to similar questions: What kind of doctor are you? A people one. What kind of law do you practice? The legal kind. Oh, you’re a salesman; what do you sell? Stuff. Ah, you’re a teacher; what do you teach? Children.

Some days all of us teachers feel less like we teach children and more like we teach school. Admittedly, we lose sight of the little human beings in our desks and are consumed with fulfilling curriculum quotas and state-testing mandates. Then comes along a fellow teacher or a young student who inspires us to refocus on the child behind the lesson plan.

Mrs. Kelli Kelley teaches children. She teaches eighth grade children the subject of science at Arnold Middle School, and she is one of those inspirational teachers who can redirect our attention to fact that the educational profession remains the most important profession on the planet.

The Academic Bowl team at Arnold is a group of top-notch students who try out for the team by completing a series of content tests. The competitions involve academic skills, so most team members are at the top of their classes. Coach Kelley, however, got wind of an eighth-grader who appeared to be the polar opposite. He was failing all of his classes, but his teachers swore he was brilliant. So, Coach Kelley decided to see the child and not his shortcomings and invited him to join the team.

See, sometimes we teachers have an innate ability to see potential in kids when others see failure. I firmly believe the skill is divine and mirrors the calling true educators heeded when they chose the classroom as their profession. Such a commitment is rewarded with a depth of sight very few other professions can acknowledge exists.

Coach Kelley saw it in a 13-year-old boy. She took a chance to see a child, not a lost cause, and that depth of sight presented potential to a young man. And he responded. Her insight allowed her not only opportunities to challenge and teach him academically, but moments to learn about him as a person as well. His failing grades, Coach Kelley learned, were not due to his lack of effort or lack of intellect. Far from it. He was a son watching his mother slowly succumb to the devastation of colon cancer. He was watching his mother die.

There comes a time when teaching a subject no longer matters. When doing homework doesn’t equate with getting your sick mother a glass of water. When scrounging for a blanket in the back seat of a car means more than a history test tomorrow.

I will be the first to recognize the power of education and how it promotes us in a competitive world such as ours. But I’ll also be right behind Coach Kelley in seeing past today’s lesson on wave properties in order to look into the tired, teary eyes of a 13-year-old boy and take a chance on him.

May we all take note of the people behind what we do, and may what we do be more than just a profession. What do you teach? I teach children.

This story was originally published May 10, 2016 at 5:11 PM with the headline "We teach children, not subjects."