Island of Misfit Toys and ME!

I am in the hospital today. I am sick, but not sick enough to miss class. While my students were sitting with my substitute and my student aid, I was sitting at my computer talking to them. They were downloading the lesson plans. They were downloading files I shared with them from my web site. I presented the lesson, They were asking questions, and getting answers. All of this happened while I was 250 miles away. This small miracle all happened because of a video chat.

As I was beginning this "interaction" with my students, I hesitated to actually follow through with the video chat. I thought maybe I would limit it to an audio chat. I was worried about how I look. I have 25 electrical wires connected to my head and 2 to my heart and they are doing a 5-day EEG to try to diagnose my brain seizures. (Sounds worse than it is, believe me. It is mostly frustrated stuttering and trying to say the right word is not always easy.) Essentially I have 25 globs of super-sticky gum in my hair and a ponytail of colored wires that lead to a bag around my neck. (If you are friend on Facebook you can check out these pictures for yourself, for the rest of you, I didn't want to torture you with the UGLY!)

When the class came on live, and I could see them. I could tell one student his aunt had stopped by to see me. I could see that one student had moved onto the next novel in the series she was reading. I could see one with curly hair and one with big grin. I could see one whispering - probably in sympathy, and I could see one smiling right into the camera right back at me. I realized it was only fair for them to see me.

I took a deep breath and clicked the video button knowing how bad I must look. I couldn't help but think, "I am a broken person and that is what should make me more human to my students." Part of being human is admitting that you make mistakes; that you do get sick; and that you can get better. They laughed and enjoyed the close-up tour of my wire globs via my built in camera on my laptop. We spent more time talking about my tests and my ugly hair than we did talking about their English assignment. Was this an educational moment for my students? Probably not, it was more entertainment.

However, it also makes me a more credible teacher to my students. If I can admit my frailties, then I can admit when I am wrong. In the past few weeks, I have made a conscious effort to admit when I am wrong, when I have made a mistake, and to admit when I didn't get papers graded on time. And in return, the students enjoy being the "expert" and finding the right answer. They enjoy pointing out my mistakes and getting extra credit points for it. And they enjoy the reprieve they get from homework when I don't get mine done.

I can admit that broken has potential for learning about each other. Look at the Island of Misfit Toys. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5SH1j1luFOw) The Jack-in-the-Box named Charlie, the spotted elephant, a choo choo with square wheels on his caboose, a water pistol that sprays jelly, the bird that swims, a cowboy who rides an ostrich, a boat that won't stay afloat, and Rudolph with his red nose. We can all learn a lesson about seeing each other for who we are instead of who we are expected to be. Seeing other sides of people is a good thing.

If only one good thing has come from my illness, then I would have to say what I have learned about my students over the last 10 months is best part. I have learned they are concerned. They care, even when they don't show it. They can be patient while I try to find the right words. They can be humorous to lighten up a potentially embarasing situation when the English teacher can't talk. They can be helpful when I am not at my best. They can be thoughtful and forgiving, kind and tolerant and pleasant, and that's not just on their good days. On their bad days, which those aren't so bad, they are just kids. Kids who are curious and learning.