The photo above is of my father teaching a group of farmers at the county extension office in the 1950's. I was probably about 9 or 10 at the time.
In my 20's when I took a teaching position with Bellin School of Nursing, my father asked me what I was going to teach. I explained my contract outlined that I would be teaching on the freshmen level, teaching the basic skills of nursing, which I listed for him.
No, he said, That's not what I mean. You need to understand in your heart what you are teaching. You should be able to articulate in a short sentence what you are teaching.
I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, but he had confidence in me and continued: Think about it, Mary Lou. Sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow. You will find in your heart what it is that you want to teach your students.
In my 20's when I took a teaching position with Bellin School of Nursing, my father asked me what I was going to teach. I explained my contract outlined that I would be teaching on the freshmen level, teaching the basic skills of nursing, which I listed for him.
No, he said, That's not what I mean. You need to understand in your heart what you are teaching. You should be able to articulate in a short sentence what you are teaching.
I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, but he had confidence in me and continued: Think about it, Mary Lou. Sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow. You will find in your heart what it is that you want to teach your students.
It is the cornerstone of your teaching you are looking for.
Oh dear. What did he mean? I trusted my dad. He was a life long educator, being the County Agricultural Agent of Calumet County through the University of Wisconsin
He taught farmers how to farm.
He took school children from field-trip buses out on fields to teach about strip cropping, erosion, wild flowers, birds.
He taught 4-H'ers how to plant trees on bare slopes, creating a forest of 50,000 trees that grows tall, green, shady, and cool today at the Calumet County Park over Lake Winnebago.
Or, at least that's what I thought he taught.
I went to bed that night, in the bed of my childhood, and wondered, wondered what he meant. I thought about it because I believed what he was teaching me was going to be important. And I understood on some level that he couldn't tell me what I wanted to teach because he didn't know. He knew that I had to find it in my own heart.
I don't remember if it was as I fell asleep that night, or as I gradually awakened in the morning that I heard in my heart what it was I wanted to teach. I do remember a great peace and comfort after excavating my teaching cornerstone. (Ah, that good old Holy Spirit whispering truth in my ear again :)
I faced my father that morning with excitement and confidence.
I know, Dad. I know what I want to teach!
Dad sat down. What is it you want to teach, Mary Lou?
I want to teach my students to care, because if they care, all else will follow.
And then my dad gifted me with another of his precious gifts that has supported me even all these 30 years after his death: Oh, you are going to be a good teacher.
And I think I was.
But I was too young, still too self-centered to ask back: Dad, what do you teach?
I can't believe I never asked. But I didn't. So now, all these years later, I wonder about Dad's cornerstone of teaching. I think, because my father was so open, that I know what he would have said. And I don't think it would have been anything so philosophical and lofty as "I want to teach farmers to care for the land," or "I want to teach the community about the value of farming," or "I want to instill a love of the earth into children."
All those my dad did teach.
But I don't think, from he said, any of those were the actual cornerstone of his teaching. I think my pragmatic father would have said: I want to teach farmers how to make farming easier.
Yup, I think that's it.
I'll check it out with Dad when I check in upstairs.
Oh dear. What did he mean? I trusted my dad. He was a life long educator, being the County Agricultural Agent of Calumet County through the University of Wisconsin
He taught farmers how to farm.
He took school children from field-trip buses out on fields to teach about strip cropping, erosion, wild flowers, birds.
He taught 4-H'ers how to plant trees on bare slopes, creating a forest of 50,000 trees that grows tall, green, shady, and cool today at the Calumet County Park over Lake Winnebago.
Or, at least that's what I thought he taught.
I went to bed that night, in the bed of my childhood, and wondered, wondered what he meant. I thought about it because I believed what he was teaching me was going to be important. And I understood on some level that he couldn't tell me what I wanted to teach because he didn't know. He knew that I had to find it in my own heart.
I don't remember if it was as I fell asleep that night, or as I gradually awakened in the morning that I heard in my heart what it was I wanted to teach. I do remember a great peace and comfort after excavating my teaching cornerstone. (Ah, that good old Holy Spirit whispering truth in my ear again :)
I faced my father that morning with excitement and confidence.
I know, Dad. I know what I want to teach!
Dad sat down. What is it you want to teach, Mary Lou?
I want to teach my students to care, because if they care, all else will follow.
And then my dad gifted me with another of his precious gifts that has supported me even all these 30 years after his death: Oh, you are going to be a good teacher.
And I think I was.
But I was too young, still too self-centered to ask back: Dad, what do you teach?
I can't believe I never asked. But I didn't. So now, all these years later, I wonder about Dad's cornerstone of teaching. I think, because my father was so open, that I know what he would have said. And I don't think it would have been anything so philosophical and lofty as "I want to teach farmers to care for the land," or "I want to teach the community about the value of farming," or "I want to instill a love of the earth into children."
All those my dad did teach.
But I don't think, from he said, any of those were the actual cornerstone of his teaching. I think my pragmatic father would have said: I want to teach farmers how to make farming easier.
Yup, I think that's it.
I'll check it out with Dad when I check in upstairs.
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