The Flavor of Smartness

"What is the flavor of smartness?"

The kindergarten teacher asked that question of her students through the computer screen.

As an observer I wrote it down in my notes...

and promptly began to consider such a compelling question.

What is the flavor of smartness?

The kindergarteners looked through their screens at their teacher.

She was wearing a plastic shield over her face.

She was sitting in her empty classroom with the afternoon kindergarten teacher sitting a proper distance away.

The teacher lets the question sit in the air...and then quickly says that the flavor of smartness is chocolate chip cookies.

She leans in to the screen and asks her students what they think the flavor of smartness might be.

I am an extra box on the grid of people attending this virtual classroom.

I observe teachers for my job.

I watch them on the tightrope of teaching...twisting to connect with a student...walking with flare to model the latest educational concept...gripping the rope as they barely hang on as it sways with uncertainty and upheaval.

Mostly I observe beginning teachers...but sometimes I am gifted with a shining moment of academic clarity or super human compassion from the resident teacher that generously shares the classroom with and mentors my student teachers.

This was one of those times.

What is happening in virtual classrooms right now has never been done before.

It is innovative.

Creative.

Difficult.

Heartbreaking.

Silly.

Embarrassing.

Brilliant.

Teachers are exposed like never before.

The ones I see, labor for hours figuring out an app or a website or a way forward for students.

They read stories.

Do art projects.

Tackle science experiments.

Sing and dance.

Teach math and history...

all over a screen.

They try to make the distance shorter with familiarity.

They use pocket charts or posters or puppets that the students know from school.

They try to maintain the routines that made their classroom a community.

They smile and cheer over a screen.

What is left unsaid is the colossal loss for the students.

Classrooms are more than the shared space.

They are more than the students and teachers.

They are a magical brew of intimacy and knowing...the instantaneous teacher response to a student's facial expression or body language...the unwritten comfort of a teacher placing a student in a specific space...or the hand over hand guidance of beginning writing...or the millions of micro-encouraging moments that teachers do without even thinking...

the smile...the eyebrow uplift...the wink...the nod...the deep breath.

It's the give and take of conversation...and commotion...

that kids and adults have everyday in the classroom.

All of that is lost today.

But for a split second, the magic happened over the screen with that mind-tickling question.

*****

Eight weeks earlier...that same mentor teacher used her decades of knowledge of five year olds and her deep understanding that all students want to learn...and tried something unusual with a student who was struggling.

It was center time and this student was working on handwriting and letter formation. 

The student put his head down.

Forming words with a pencil, fitting it onto a line...it all seemed like too much.

Overwhelming.

In order to avoid that, the student left the table and meandered over to the easel. 

He crawled underneath it.

Positioned himself like the roly poly bugs the kindergarteners find in the garden.

Most teachers would cajole the student...or reprimand the student...or sigh at the student and imply that the student was making a bad choice.

The master teacher chose none of those options.

Instead, she was curious.

She asked a question:

"I see you are over here in a tucked in place but you don't look happy. Do you know why?"

The student pointed at the table.

She asked him if he would like to try writing in this small tucked in space.

He nodded.

The teacher created a hard, stable writing platform resting on two wooden blocks...

AND THE STUDENT WROTE.

After a while, the student walked himself back over to the larger table where students were working on handwriting.

The teacher made space for the student to learn.

She sent the message that she knew the student could do the work.

She offered her encouragement and her belief in him.

She adjusted and modified.

While at the same time holding the student to the same expectations as other students.

Her ability to be curious instead of angry allowed the moment to be educational and productive.

I just took notes.

*****

What is the flavor of smartness?

Like so much of life, there is no right answer.

It is wide open.

Negotiable.

Is it the crisp freshness of a crunchy apple?

The cozy of hot buttered cinnamon toast?

The comfort of ginger peach tea?

The tang of an orange?

The exotic gift of mangoes?

The flavor of smartness is within every student.

It takes a master chef to see the beauty in each ingredient.

To find a way to bring out the flavors in a complex dish.

Whether it is done over a screen or in the classroom, 

teachers find a way to bring out the flavor of smartness in their students.

Indescribable.

Ineffable.

Sometimes impossible...yet they do.

May we stop and notice the impossible done with grace.

Thank a teacher. Today.