“Teacher, do you have a question for us today?”
The first few students in line begin to hound me daily on the way to lunch. I have approximately 50 steps across the campus plaza toward the cafeteria door to think of a question to ask my students, a question that will be engaging, revealing and require more than a one-word answer.
The walk to lunch is probably my favorite five minutes of the day. Even if it’s been a rough morning, that little few-second connection with each student unifies us again. If we’re late to lunch or there’s already a long line, something dumb usually pops out of my mouth. “What’s your favorite color?” “What pets do you have?” “What’s your favorite number?” (For the record, almost every student has a favorite number. Only one looked at me in disbelief and asked, “What would be the point of that?”)
Better questions give me a tiny peek into their worlds and minds. For example, the question “What do you like to do when you aren’t in school?” yields the expected number of iPad, Xbox, soccer and bicycle responses, and the much unexpected “I like to crank up the music and clean the house,” whispered with a sheepish smile by the tiny quiet boy who lives in a motel. I was equally taken aback by the boy who hesitated, and then asked if he absolutely had to answer the question. When I told him he did, he said, “I do bad things. But I’m not going to tell you what they are because they’re bad.” I arranged my face into a blank canvas, made a mental note to look into his files, and moved on to the next kid.
Two girls made me smile with their embarrassed confession that they still play with Barbies.
A recent question opened my eyes. “What university would you like to attend?” I asked. The first student answered promptly, “University of Oregon! Go, Ducks!” I gave him a high-five and let him pass. A few other students answered with the names of cities, or even countries. They dream large: New York, Paris, London, Los Angeles. One student wished to go to college in Antarctica to study penguins. About half the class chose either San Diego State or Southwestern College as their future path. A number of students, though, looked at me with confusion. One finally said, “Teacher, I don’t know how to answer that question.” Others nodded in agreement. They didn’t know the name of a single college. A few didn’t know the difference between high school and college. Higher education is not on their radars at all.
This shouldn’t surprise me as much as it did. I teach in a community in which, as of the last census, 50 percent of the adults have a high school diploma and only 17 percent of the adults have a college degree.
I should know many children aren’t aware of college. Certainly, living here isn’t an automatic barrier to success; I occasionally hear from former students who are attending or have graduated from college. I was filled with joy when I received an email from the ex-student, fairly unremarkable in the sixth grade, who wanted to tell me he’d just earned his master’s degree and was contemplating going back to school for another one.
However, when I look at the class before me, a jumble of fifth-graders who read at a first- or second-grade level mixed with students who write brilliantly and can do mental math faster than I can, I’m unsure of their chances. Some have to overcome learning disabilities, homelessness, family violence or exposure to substance abuse. Some are unmotivated, some are unprepared. It’s probably heresy for a teacher to say that not every child is college material, but vocational education or trade school would serve many of these students well. In the absence of that, they need to be guided toward options for success.
Others are sharp, prepared and hungry for success. They merely need the word “university” whispered consistently into their ears for the next seven years and they’ll be well on their way. Starting now, we need to create that whisper until it becomes a roar that’s impossible to disregard. We need to fill their heads with big dreams and push and pull them toward achieving them.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to ask my students questions — some dumb, some funny, some revealing and many that leave me with questions of my own.
