Thriving in Your Imperfect Space
Recently I enjoyed the opportunity to visit another school while classes were in session. I visited various classrooms and was able to observe a slice of the daily life of a school somewhat like my own. This school moved into a new building only a few years ago, and the whole place is modern, efficient, and beautiful. Things appear to run like a well-oiled machine. I watched a friend of mine teach her class of fourteen in a spacious, sunlit room considerably larger than my own little basement room where twenty-two students are stuffed into a space that might be ideal for a dozen or so. You can probably imagine some of the thoughts that were running through my head.
Let me tell you about the place where I teach. During the heat of early fall each year, my first task when I arrive at school is to empty the dehumidifier that has been running overnight. I deal with the daily decision of whether to put up with the heat all day or to wear out my voice by trying to talk over the noise of the air conditioner. One day a few weeks ago when we flipped a breaker (for the umpteenth time) while running the microwave at lunchtime, the students wondered why it keeps flipping. I said, “This is an old building. It wasn’t wired to run a bunch of microwaves and air conditioners.”
“When was this school built?” asked one student incredulously. “1993?”
“Actually, 1952,” I replied.
“Well, I was close,” he said. I suppose 1993 and 1952 are equally ancient to him. I hid my amusement and noted the need to keep teaching math skills.
Old buildings have their quirks, and living creatures find ways to get in. One of the many unexpected skills I have acquired as a teacher is dead aim with a fly swatter. I’ve had a student get stung by a bee in the middle of class (Lesson learned: When there is a bee in the classroom, stop everything until that bee is dead or is chased out the window). And do you want to hear mouse stories? Ok, it may be best if I don’t get started on those.
I write all this because my guess is that most of you who read this blog do not teach in state-of-the-art buildings, nor do you teach under ideal circumstances. As we deal with inconveniences, we can choose complaining and frustration, or we can choose gratitude, creativity, and a sense of humor.
Gratitude lets us focus on what we have, not on what we wish we had. I am immensely grateful for a positive school culture, a strong staff team, and a supportive school community. All these things are much more important than having the perfect classroom with all the latest teaching tools. I would far rather deal with flies and flipped breakers than with bad attitudes or relational issues.
Creativity helps us realize that even the inconveniences can be part of our students’ education. Those ants that literally come up from under the edge of the carpet and start building a home there provide a free science lesson. Being a little uncomfortable from the heat or from the crowded room does not hurt my students in the long run, and it may in fact help them build resilience. Creativity lets me find joy in fixing the broken flushing mechanism in the toilet with a paper clip or in finding that I can make the clock work by stuffing a folded piece of paper beside the battery to make it fit more tightly. We teachers can be masters of creativity when the occasion calls for it, and it is our privilege to revel in this ability.
Keeping a sense of humor is a good way to keep our sanity. After all, sometimes the ridiculous inconveniences make the best stories afterward, and it can be delightful to laugh over them with fellow staff members. I can tell you that experiencing mouse escapades together is a quick way to create some great staff camaraderie.
Plans are underway for our school to construct a new building sometime in the next few years. Though I look forward to things like a larger classroom and central air, I will miss some things about our old school. I hope that we will not take the conveniences for granted. No matter the space in which we find ourselves as teachers, we can choose to make the best of what we have and to teach our students to do the same.
Photo by Khay Edwards on Unsplash
