Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Creeping Disease
Yesterday I started a new unit with my class. The theme is supposed to be all about famous people who have overcome obstacles in their lives. I didn't have a particularly inspired lesson planned when I got to school early in the morning, but I figured, hey, I'd wing it. So I sat down at the computer, opened up my browser, and the top story on the BBC was about the death of Christopher Reeve.
My first thought, my very first thought, was not about how sad the news was, but, "Wow, that fits in perfectly with my lesson for today! I should print that out." So I did, and it did indeed fit perfectly with the lesson, and all was good with my teaching world.
But I cannot shake the feeling that teaching has now infecting my mind, creeping into my thought processes and taking them over like some kind of malignant disease. I'm not sure whether I want to get to the point where I am no longer startled by the fact that I now live my life evaluating everything around me as possible teaching material.
Yesterday I started a new unit with my class. The theme is supposed to be all about famous people who have overcome obstacles in their lives. I didn't have a particularly inspired lesson planned when I got to school early in the morning, but I figured, hey, I'd wing it. So I sat down at the computer, opened up my browser, and the top story on the BBC was about the death of Christopher Reeve.
My first thought, my very first thought, was not about how sad the news was, but, "Wow, that fits in perfectly with my lesson for today! I should print that out." So I did, and it did indeed fit perfectly with the lesson, and all was good with my teaching world.
But I cannot shake the feeling that teaching has now infecting my mind, creeping into my thought processes and taking them over like some kind of malignant disease. I'm not sure whether I want to get to the point where I am no longer startled by the fact that I now live my life evaluating everything around me as possible teaching material.
