My Best Teaching Experience

Tyler was only in my senior class for a semester. He had been suspended (使停学) many times in previous years because of his anger issues. When he entered my class, I thought the worst.

Tyler sat in the back row. Every time I talked to the class, I would ask students questions, calling them by name. Unfortunately, every time I called on Tyler, he would respond with a joke. If he got an answer wrong, he would become angry.

About a month into the year, I was still trying to connect with Tyler. I can usually get students involved in class discussions or at least have them sit quietly and attentively (专心地). By contrast, Tyler was often loud and sometimes rude.

He had been in so much trouble over the years. He expected his teachers to know about his past; about how many times he had been sent to the office or suspended from school. I had found that these sorts of referrals (移交) were not very effective and that students would return from the office behaving worse than before.

One day, Tyler was talking over me while I was teaching. I stopped my lesson and said, “Tyler, why don’t you join in our discussion instead of having one of your own?” With that, he got up from his chair, pushed it over and yelled something. I can’t remember what he said other than that he included some impolite words. I sent Tyler straight to the office, and he received a week’s suspension.

To this point, this was one of my worst teaching experiences. Tyler’s anger was almost too much for me. The week Tyler was suspended from school was a wonderful time, and we got a lot accomplished as a class. However, the suspension week would soon come to an end, and I was fearful of his return.

On the day of Tyler’s return, I stood at the door awaiting him.

A spark of surprise flashed across his face.

Jenny was the only child in her family. She had a quarrel (吵架) with her mother that afternoon and she ran out of the house angrily. She couldn’t help weeping sorrowfully when she thought of the scolding from her mother. Having wandered aimlessly in the street for hours, she felt a little hungry and wished for something to eat. She stood beside a stand (货摊) for a while, watching the middle-aged seller busy doing his business. However, with no money in hand, she gave a sigh and had to leave.

The seller behind the stand noticed the young girl and asked, “Hey, girl, you want to have the noodles?”

“Oh, yes, but I don’t have money on me.” she replied.

“That’s nothing. I’ll treat you today,” said the man, “Come in.”

The seller brought her a bowl of noodles, whose smell was so attractive. As she was eating, Jenny cried silently.

“What is it?” asked the man kindly.

“Nothing. Actually, I was just touched by your kindness!” said Jenny as she wiped her tears. “Even a stranger on the street will give me a bowl of noodles, while my mother drove me out of the house. She showed no care for me. She is so merciless compared to a stranger!”

Hearing the words, the seller smiled, “Girl, do you really think so? I only gave you a bowl of noodles and you thanked me a lot. But it is your mother who has raised you since you were a baby. Can you remember the times she cooked for you? Have you expressed your gratitude to her?”

Jenny sat there, speechless and numb with shock: she remembered her mother’s familiar face and weathered hands. “Why didn’t I think of that? A bowl of noodles from a stranger made me feel grateful. Why haven’t I thanked my mum for what she has done for me?”

On the way home. Jenny made up her mind to make an apology to her mother for her rudeness as soon as she arrived home.

Nearing the doorway, Jenny took a deep breath.

At that time, her mother came back and touched her hair gently, which called her mind back.

It was in the afternoon before the end of the Second World War that Antonio Black, who was twelve, caught sight of a beautiful brooch (胸针) in a shop window. The brooch is so beautiful that he was unwilling to leave the store until he had purchased it. But it was too expensive — $5. His family was very poor and his parents struggled to make ends meet. Five dollars would buy almost a week’s food for his family.

Antonio couldn’t ask his father for the money. Everything his father made through fishing went to his mother, Susan. Slim and beautiful, his mother was the center of the home and the glue that held it together. The housework was never-ending, and she struggled to feed and clothe their five children, but she was happy as her family and their well-being were all she cared about.

Nevertheless, he opened the shop’s door and went inside. Standing proudly and straight in his flour-sack (面粉袋改做的) shirt and washed-out trousers, he told the shopkeeper what he wanted, adding, “But I don’t have the money right now. Can you please hold it for me for some time?”

“I’ll try,” the shopkeeper smiled. “People around here don’t usually have that kind of money to spend on things. It should keep for a while.”

Antonio respectfully touched his worn cap and walked out. He would raise the money and not tell anybody, for he thought Mum would be surprised when she saw that brooch. On hearing the sound of hammering (锤打) from a side street, Antonio suddenly had an idea that he could raise money by selling the used nail bags. People built their own homes in Bay Roberts, using nails bought in bags from a local factory. Sometimes the used bags were thrown away at the construction site, and Antonio knew he could sell them back to the factory for five cents a piece. That day he sold two nail bags and hid the money in a rusty soda tin.

Every day after school, Antonio started his plan.

The day finally came!

Holidays are not necessarily for fun or rest. Doing something meaningful can also gain special pleasure. When the final bell rang, the students were reminded that there was no school on Monday—the Labor Day. “Enjoy your extra day off” said the teacher to her class.

An extra day off unsuited Kayla just fine. She loved breaks. She wanted to go out to play with her friends. When the school bus dropped Kayla off, she ran into the house happily.

“How was school, Kayla?” asked her mom.

“It was great, Mom. I am excited about no school on Monday.”

“You just started back to school two weeks ago. Already in need of a break, huh?” asked Kayla’s mom with a laugh.

Kayla slept in the next morning. Saturday was her favorite day of the week. I trained most of the day, so Kayla enjoyed playing videogames inside. On Sunday, her friends came over and they played basketball for several hours.

Then it was Labor Day, you know, the extra day off that Kayla was so looking forward to. But Kayla was awakened early that morning by her dad. He told Kayla that in honor of Labor Day, the family would be cleaning both inside and outside the house. Kayla couldn’t believe it. This was a holiday. A day when she was supposed to be enjoying freshly squeezed lemonade while playing in her tree house. As Kayla wiped here yes, she began to wonder if this was just a bad dream.

“Kayla, your breakfast is ready. We have a lot of work to do today. Let’s get a move on,” said Kayla’s mom. As she sat down at the kitchen table, Kayla asked her parents，

“Are you serious about working today? Isn’t Labor Day a holiday?”

“Yes, Kayla. It is,” replied her dad. “But your mom and I thought working hard today would make you appreciate why Labor Day was observed in the first place.”

At first Kayla felt disappointed at her parents’ plan for the holiday.

But things began to change as she was doing the chores.

There are many things in senior middle school that I still remember clearly. I studied three years in a country school, which is faraway. However, it has a good environment and strict but kind teachers, so I loved the school and all my teachers very much.

One Friday, just as we began to read books in reading class at our desks, our teacher, Mrs. Hill, said that she needed to be out of the classroom for a few minutes. She asked the class to read in silence while she was gone. And she said that those who didn’t read books in silence would have to be punished when she returned. It was well-known that Mrs. Hill was strict. So we had to be on our best behaviour.

But that Friday, Mrs. Hill hadn’t been gone for ten seconds before some students in the classroom started to talk. From one corner of the room I heard Josh ask Nick, “Can I trade my candies for your toy?” At the other end of the room I heard Samantha tell Kayla, “Let’s sit together on the bus for the museum field trip tomorrow.” And so it went all around me, until about half of the students communicated with each other.

After a while, I, too, forgot about Mrs. Hill’s instructions. I turned back and asked my friend Liza, “Can I borrow your storybook and keep it for a day?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Mrs. Hill walked into the classroom. The whole class returned to silence immediately. And we were full of fear.

Mrs. Hill slowly looked around the classroom and said, “If you were talking while I was gone, then please stand up.” The guilt (内疚) suddenly weighed heavily on me. “I shouldn’t have talked while she was not in the classroom. And now I should be honest and admit my mistake bravely. This is what my parents have always told me.” I thought. Then, I summoned up (鼓起) my courage to stand up, worried about the punishment that waited for me. Then I looked around.

To my surprise, no one followed me and I was the only one in the classroom standing.

With Mrs. Hill’s encouragement, another student stood up.

It’s hard being an astronaut’s son. I often wonder how my father ever had a son like me. I mean he’s so special and so good at everything he does. But I’m just an average eleven-year-old kid.

Nowadays I dream about being a famous writer, but I used to dream about doing something special to impress my father and make him proud of me-something like rescuing a child from a burning building.

I was dreaming in school one morning, which I often do. I was daydreaming about being some kind of hero when my friend Ellen reminded me of my English teacher’s announcement about a Father’s Day essay contest.

“I hope we have a winner right here in my English class.” she said. “There are three prizes for each of you.”

When I got home, I kissed my mom quickly. Then I went upstairs to my room and sat down with a pen and a pad of paper. I started to think about what I would write.

How did I see my father? Mmm…

I saw him teaching me how to use a bat and how to throw baseball.

I remembered how he hugged me for hours when my dog Spotty was hit and killed by a car.

And I remembered how he sat and tried to explain death to me when Grandpa Bob died.

These were the things I was going to write about my dad. To me, he wasn’t just a famous astronaut. He was my dad.

I wrote about all these memories and put them in my essay. I handed it in the next day and was surprised to find out that the winning essays would be read in the lecture hall on Thursday night. All the parents and students were invited.

My parents and I went to school Thursday night. One of our neighbors said, “I bet you’ll win the contest, David. I bet you wrote what it’s like to be the son of an astronaut, and you’re the only one in town who could write about that. ”

I shrugged and then the first winner - Ellen was announced.

The second prize winner was announced next - It was me.