Stuff Teachers' Like: the Teacher Chair

A quick glimpse into a teacher’s classroom and you see it looming larger then life in the corner. It is the Teacher Chair (yes, I capitalized it on purpose). No, it is not any ordinary chair. Like a prince among paupers, it stands regal and distinct from the rest. It is a comfy chair, fully quipped with all the necessary features: tall backed, pleather cushions (though sometimes cloth), lumbar support, hydraulic lift, arm rests, and a reclining or rocking feature. Most importantly... it spins.

I have such a chair. It is a “must-have” in order to survive the 30+ year marathon to retirement. Why, you might ask? Is it because the chair serves as a power statement I make to my students, showing them who is boss as they sit in their puny plastic seats? Is it because the chair serves to increase my feeling of importance as I grade the work of children who still, after 7 years of school, do not know how to write a complete sentence? Is it because the chair supports my self-esteem when parents come in to tell me that my subject is nothing but a bunch of worthless knowledge? Well... yea, but there is a reason that trumps them all: it comforts my royal rump. With how much time I spend in my classroom, practically living there at time, I need to be comfortable, or else... well... or else! A sore hiney can make any teacher a little whiney.

Classroom Stories: 5 Fingers

In my social studies teaching I love to incorporate art and music into my teaching, as to enrich the experience and show students how those people viewed their world.

One year, when I was teaching on the Middle Ages, I showed a picture of Mother Mary holding baby Jesus. A student raised his hand from the back row. This child was as middle of the road as they come: no special academic needs, B or C student, well behaved in class... perfectly average. He was also Catholic, which meant that Mary is a very serious topic. I called on the kid, "Yes Sir, you have a question?"

The child, with a very stern expression on his face asked, "Why does Mary... have five fingers?"

I turn to the board, in slight disbelief (and some cognitive dissonance), and count the number of fingers on Mary's hand... all five.

I then pull out my own hand and start counting, "One... Two... Three..." And which point he pulls out his hand, and joins in "One, Two, Three, Four.... Fi- Oh! I Get it Now! I didn't realize there were five..."