My Most Powerful Teaching Tool

First, I would like to dedicate this post to all the wee students who hold my hand throughout my teaching days, not only melting my heart, but also effectively infecting me with all of their germs.

I pride myself on being the kind of person who rarely gets sick. I've thrown up once in the past 10 years, winter sniffles are a novelty, and head-aches a foreign concept. It is no surprise, then, that when my body decided to finally let down its defenses last Sunday I was attacked by every illness symptom in a matter of 7 days. It began with a fevered flip-flop between sweats and chills, then a sore throat and head-ache, topped off by a nauseousness that lent food the same appeal as a bowl of play-dough.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were write-offs for teaching, but Thursday morning I woke up feeling well enough to take a job, choosing a Grade 1 class in hopes of an easy day. Upon entering the classroom and reading the plans for the day, I immediately questioned my decision. The top half of the page was filled with descriptions about which students to watch out for, with one boy's name being linked to the word volatile. (Volatile: tending or threatening to break out into open violence; explosive.) Two students were listed as “runners”, with instructions left on how to use the walkie-talkie in case of emergency.

On a normal day, this would be a daunting task. On a day when your voice decides to cease existence half-way through first period, this becomes an impossible task. While reading Howard B. Wigglebottom, one of my student's voiced his sincere concern and asked, “What is wrong with your voice, Mrs. A? It's so squeaky.” I smiled and continued on, my voice getting weaker with each moment. Finally, I had to admit defeat, putting the book away in surrender. In immediate response, the students' voices became a rising cacophony, as though they had been waiting all morning for my voice to give way.

What does a teacher do with no voice? Read-aloud? Nope. Present a math lesson? Forget it. Prevent an unruly child from escaping the classroom and running down the hallway? Ya right!

I will tell you what a teacher with no voice does. A teacher with no voice does 25 minutes of yoga with her students, inwardly praying that some of their energy will evaporate during downward dog. A teacher with no voice frantically searches YouTube for a Magic School Bus episode that will (vaguely) relate to what the students are currently learning. A teacher with no voice fiddles with the dead walkie-talkie while she pleads in whispers for her run-away student to return to the classroom.

Through trial by fire, I discovered that a teacher's most important tool is not her wealth of knowledge (ha!), or her classroom management skills, but her voice. So thank-you, God, for what my friends so (un)lovingly refer to as my “Teacher Voice”. It has saved me on many occasions and will never again be taken for granted.