William is a new student of mine. He’s one of my favourites.
I’m a part-time college instructor who teaches an outdoor skills course to high school students in north Toronto. The students aren’t particularly doing well with the set teaching methods of secondary education, so they’re given to me. I definitely don’t teach with the normal formula. I make sure they’re outside most of the time. They have excelled because of it! My last group had an average mark of 97 per cent. The big bonus is that if the students pass, they will finally graduate from high school and move on to post-secondary.
Some of my college colleagues label my students as Kevin’s “misfit toys,” but I consider them to be my saving grace—especially William. The first day of class he walked in, holding a weathered leather briefcase under arm, like a wizard would hold a magical wand under their sleeve. He gave me a quick glance and bellowed out, “Good morning Mr. Kevin. I’m excited to be here. I was told we wouldn’t be inside much. That’s good. Now let’s get this nature learning thing started, shall we.”
William has become my carrot in front of the horse these past few weeks. My job isn’t easy at times. Let’s just say I never have a typical day. The students all have some issues, whether they’re on the spectrum, suffer from high anxiety, deal with past drug abuse or have major family issues at home. Teaching the class is kind of like a canoe trip down a wild river. You never know what’s around the next bend.
Last week I was reminded of that. Five minutes into the class—bird call identification—the high school went on back-up power due to a severe wind and rain storm. The lights were flickering, the ventilation turned off, the internet was non-existent. The morning buses had already left, so the students were stuck there for the day. You could sense the panic in some of the teachers (and students). How were they going to teach hundreds of kids all day with limited facilities? My class, however, remained calm. We were planning on spending the day outside anyway, calling in various bird species. There was no need for power to do that.
So, dressed in foul weather gear and equipped with bird call apps on our phones, we headed to the nearest park to learn an assortment of bird calls. During our time outdoors, I noticed William still had his leather briefcase tucked under his arm. I asked him what he stored in it, thinking it was just regular school supplies: pens, pencils and paper. It wasn’t. It was completely empty. William then exclaimed, in full confidence, that it was actually holding his “inner wisdom.” I smirked and moved on to the next bird call.
When we returned to the school, the power issues were still problematic and as we walked in the front doors, we met a fellow teacher sitting on the steps. She was flushed, breathing heavily and full of anxiety. I asked her if she was okay. Her reply was, “I needed a break from the stench inside our stagnant classroom.” William—holding out his briefcase—replied to her: “Ya should have gone with us. It rained on us the entire day, but we managed to keep warm, and our classroom certainly wasn’t stagnant.”
Without a doubt, William made good use of his “inner wisdom” that day.
The post The Happy Camper: William’s Briefcase of Inner Wisdom first appeared on Explore Magazine.