A small gaggle of middle school girls approached me somewhat shyly. They know whining isn’t allowed in my classroom but we weren’t at school, we were at the Guilford River Festival. I suspect they also would have claimed what they were doing was actually begging, not whining.
For those who don’t know, the Guilford River Festival is a truly awesome annual event that’s extremely family and kid-friendly. There’s lots of free stuff–my job was to hand out free balloons to kids–and fun stuff. The girls were offering a competition based on a game we sometimes play at school. “Are you smarter than a PCMS student?” They were having trouble getting contestants and begged me to visit their set up and play.
When I arrived, the girls and their game host immediately disappeared to “strategize,” triggering a certain amount of suspicion in my mind. Upon returning, they all had a noticeable “cat that swallowed the canary” look.
The game host explained the rules and process carefully and quickly. I think I heard him say that the game was “only slightly rigged.” I would be competing against the girls but I had the first chance to answer the questions. If I answered the question wrong, they could “take the point” by answering correctly, proving they were smarter.
The questions were of a historical nature and not too difficult but my suspicions were at an all-time high so I thought long and hard before answering. I could almost hear the clock ticking and the music playing. The first question required a date for an answer. When I answered, the game host declared “wrong!” and the girls went into a huddle. After some whispering, the shouted an answer in unison. “Billy Bob!”
“Correct!” Since the audience was small, the girls provided most of the applause.
The second question required a person’s name for an answer and I admitted I was tempted to answer “Billy Bob,” but went with what I was sure was correct. Again, my answer was declared wrong. Again after huddling the girls answered nonsensically and were declared correct.
I suppose some would have felt cheated but I found myself laughing and having fun. Maybe it wasn’t about the questions. Remember, the original question was “Are you smarter than a PCMS student?” It was becoming clear that I was not–they were outsmarting me.
The process continued with the girls winning all the points and me being skunked. It was at that point the game show host indicated I shouldn’t go away empty-handed and presented me with the pictured t-shirt. My response was genuine: “This is definitely worth losing for.”
I may be risking over-analysis but the experience left me not only laughing but also thinking. Winning and losing are words and people give meaning to words–it’s not the other way around. Sometimes we win when we lose. I’ll enjoy that shirt and the memory of losing to a gaggle of giggling girls who did, in fact, outsmart me. So thanks to the girls and Herrick Excavation for hosting and sponsoring the contest I won by losing.
The first time was about six years ago in my book . In Chapter 13 I touched on the occasions when the kids at school try to enlist me as judge and jury to settle a dispute. I offer one example and admit that my solution to it was based on “a bit of laziness and lack of desire to don a judge’s robe.”
The kids tell me I have a pretty effective “teacher look.” I’m now working on my “judge’s look.”
Handing the case (problem or question) over to the judge can be alluring for many reasons and it’s not just the kids who do it. When I teach real estate courses I am often barraged with questions that start with “What if…?” With kids and adults, there are some obvious undercurrents. The kids’ questions are usually relative to what’s fair and sometimes are instructions. “Make her stop!” “He’s not playing fair!” The adults are looking for the right answer–usually to a subtle and sometimes legal question.
For at least as many years as the book’s been published, I have deflected many legal questions in real estate classes by including the observation, “If anyone finds a reasonably priced judge’s robe, buy it for me. I’ll reimburse you for it. Then I can slip it on when I’m asked these sort of questions and act all-knowing and certain while I pronounce my verdict.”
Well, it finally happened. At a recent Associate Broker Workshop a student showed up with a “surprise” for me, proudly presenting me with a black robe–and no expectation of reimbursement. I of course modeled it at the beginning of the workshop. It got a lot of laughs. It also reminded me of how thoughtful students often are. Most importantly, I now carry it in my “teaching kit” and plan to make it a visual aid.
See, I think acting as judge and teacher are actually often a conflict of interest. In a learning environment, when students give the teacher too much authority they may not think and all they really learn is the judge’s (teacher’s) opinion. I also have a rule in my adult classes that you’re not allowed to use the phrase “Walter said in class…” For one thing, I find I’m often misquoted. For another, you are suggesting you only learned what I said. I’d rather hear you say, “I learned in class…” I want to teach you to think, not quote the teacher.
The fact that things seem complicated or complex doesn’t mean we should let someone else do our thinking for us. I’m reasonably certain the world is round–or at least approximately so. But if a kid asks me I’m likely to reply with questions. “What do you think? How can we find out? What have you learned about that so far?”
While the power that goes with the judge’s robe is tempting, another thing I like about not wearing it is I can teach subjects I know almost nothing about. I once substituted for a second-year high school Spanish class. The kids knew me. As they were getting seated one called out, “Mr. Boomsma, do you even know Spanish?”
There was no hesitation when I answered, “No I do not. But I do know how to teach it. Let’s get started.”
So while I am profoundly grateful to Carole Scott Gartley of Brad Carter Real Estate for the robe and her thoughtfulness, I probably won’t be wearing it too much–just to get some laughs and make a point.
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go… “
If you’ve been watching the weather forecast, you may think this is your last call to rush to the store for bread and milk. The forecast here at Abbot Village Press’s World Headquarters is calling for “10 to 15 inches” of snow.
But I’m actually making a last call for a couple of real estate courses I will be starting soon. Both will have workshops in Augusta.
The Sales Agent Course Workshops are held on four consecutive Saturdays beginning on March 2, 2019. This the course you need if you want to get started in real estate. Since there’s some online work you must complete prior to the first workshop, you’ll need to register PDQ (pretty darn quick). You can do that here!
The Associate Broker Course Workshops are held on four consecutive Fridays beginning on March 1, 2019. This is for those who are currently licensed as Sales Agents and it too includes some online work you must complete prior to the first workshop so register soon. You can do that here!
There are, of course, additional options and opportunities… you can always . And if you have questions you can always send me an email.
There’s life after real estate! Check the teaching schedule for Substitute Teacher and Suicide Prevention Workshops… Think spring! Thinklearning! Think!
I count myself fortunate when I get to spend some time at school with the kids as Christmas approaches. Admittedly, it can be a bit crazy as energy levels are high and the kids are “wound up.” But I try to enjoy their energy and stay focused on the tasks at hand.
One of the questions I had during my most recent assignment was a bit different. “Mr. Boomsma, how do you make the letter “o” in cursive?” It’s not as easy to answer as one might think but I share it for those who complain the schools aren’t teaching cursive any more. (It turned out the question was actually about the little “hooky thing” that connects it to the next letter.)
The second question was a bit more difficult. A fifth grade boy was not kidding–the question was sincere. “Mr. Boomsma, is Santa Claus real?”
Fortunately, his neighbor interceded, assuring him that Santa Claus was very real. She’d seen him and told the story of her sighting in great detail. However, I should have known I wasn’t off the hook. He looked at me and asked, “Have YOU seen him?” The look on the girl seemed to say they’d both like some assurance.
I’d recently read the news story of a substitute teacher who was ultimately terminated after telling a first-grade class that Santa Claus isn’t real. So like the cursive question, this is not quite as simple as it might first seem.
If it wasn’t Christmas Eve, we might explore several techniques one can use when asked a difficult question. I answered his question by telling him and his seatmate a story, emphasizing it was absolutely true. I will share it with you.
When I was about six, I began to question Santa’s existence. Some of the kids I went to school with were quite convinced “your parents are Santa.” As luck would have it, we were having a “green Christmas” without a hint of snow. So our spirits were dampened and it was easy to believe in something less magical and fun.
To fully appreciate what happened, I need to explain that we lived in a very small town, miles away from any airports or flight paths. We rarely saw or heard planes.
That Christmas Eve announced to my Dad that I was pretty sure there was no such thing as Santa Claus. I reached this conclusion primarily based on the fact there was no snow. His sleigh wouldn’t work.
Since there was no question to answer, my Dad stated, in a rather matter-of-fact tone, “Oh, he comes in a helicopter when there’s no snow.” I was then sent outside to do one of my nightly chores.
It was not the first time I found myself truly torn. I could usually figure out when Dad was teasing but I believed with all my heart that he would never lie to me. Still, his explanation somehow didn’t feel right and I couldn’t detect that little smile that gave him away when he was teasing or joking. It was quiet and cold outside. I wondered if I should continue the conversation when I returned to the warmth inside.
While I was contemplating this, I heard a noise off in the distance… “whomp, whomp,..” Omigod! A helicopter! It flew right over my head, very low, lights flashing! I hurriedly finished my chore, ran back into the house, climbed the stairs two at a time and jumped into bed with my clothes on, pulling the covers up to my neck and pretending to be asleep.
The kids at school seemed to enjoy my story and accepted it at face value. So do I. I don’t really know where that helicopter came from and why it flew over our house at precisely that moment. But I do know that I learned some things about the magic of Christmas and the importance of believing.
Telling the story reminded of another person who was asked almost the same question. In 1897, Francis Pharcellus Church, a former Civil War correspondent and editor at the New York Sun, received a letter from the then 8-year-old Virginia O’Hanlon questioning Santa’s existence. His answer is not just for kids. It speaks to the innocent joy of childhood and the power of belief. There’s a link at the bottom of this post. It’s important to read it.
My wish for you this Christmas is that you too might hear a helicopter… or hear or experience whatever it takes to help you believe in all of the things Christmas is supposed to be about.
Walter Boomsma (“Mr. Boomsma”) writes on a wide array of topics including personal development, teaching and learning. Course information is also available here!
