my kids don't learn in class

I happen to have wonderful parents that instilled a respect for handwork, honesty and kindness in me, as well as any number of other lessons. Over time, I have not so much discovered new stretches of that land as come to understand better many of the lessons they taught me. One of the greatest of these is independence in learning. They have always encouraged me to learn for myself. To explore the world of my own volition. To make errors and learn from those errors.

I do not have kids of my own. But I am surrounded constantly by my students. To me, they are my kids. I work with them, teach them, play with them and ultimately have to punish/reward them. They spend more time with me than any other singular adult in our quarter. From this, I get a unique perspective into their world and, in my ways, my own.

From a teaching perspective, I have at times felt inconsequential to their lives. I can teach and lecture till I am blue in the face and get nothing but blank stares in return. Questions and attempts at intriguing my students can bounce off those stares and disappear into the heavy, heated air. Then the next day, without a thought to yesterday, the faces will be full of knowledge and understanding, questions and answers. Where did it come from?

i may have posed a question in class but it is not until the kids can turn it over, explore it, make errors, chew it up and spit it out that they own it and send forth answers. In the classroom with over a hundred students, there is no time for this. They are trapped in a confined space with masses of sweat and odor where whispers turn deafening in their quantity. How can one learn in such places?

So it is the evening dusk and nightly stars that watch them trace over the questions I have posed to make them their own. It happens often through repetition. I can hear it outside my window. It is almost a song, a repetition of verbs and nouns in a singsongy tone. Sometimes it comes as a knock at my door and a few red marks of error. Then discussions, even debates, can ensue. At some point, they digest it and absorb some of the energy and vitamins from that day's portion.

So I have learned to look at my job in this way:

Indeed, I can only lead a horse to water but not make it drink. However, I can sure make that water look mighty enticing.

P.S. I now know a piece of what my parents must have felt all those years. I was truly a stubborn child that had to learn it of my own accord. Thanks Mom and Dad for sticking to it.