“It’s not that they lack passion. I know they have it in them, I just have to figure out how to encourage them to show it,” Eric Ikeda said, adjusting his glasses and taking another sip of coffee. School had just started, and the 35-year-old Language Arts teacher was already considering ways he could improve his seventh graders’ writing style.
“Eric, it’s the first day of school. Nothing good comes out of the first day of school, that’s why we all go over classroom etiquette.”
Nate Jacobs was a self-proclaimed realist; the kind that didn’t even bother arguing about the contents of the glass, even though everyone around him was pretty sure he’d call it half-empty. Eric, on the other hand, was a staunch half-full advocate. Still, he couldn’t help feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“No, it’s happening. I know they can do it. Maybe I should up the ante; force some creativity on their next writing assignment.”
Nate slouched further in the plastic break room chair and shook out the World News section of the Daily Times, “Ah, forced creativity. God bless America.”
* * *
Two days later, Eric was feeling pretty good about himself. He had gotten a great night’s rest, eaten a fantastic breakfast; it didn’t matter that his 8 a.m. kids looked like they’d been run over by a train.
“Alright! I read your journal entries from last time. The old, ‘What Happened This Summer’ question. They were pretty good. But I can’t help feeling they lacked a little in the excitement category. I mean, ‘I played video games,’ ‘I read a book,’ ‘I counted the tiles on my kitchen floor.’” Eric smiled as a small wave of laughter passed through the room. “You guys can do better than that. So today’s writing is titled, ‘What Really Happened This Summer.’”
Eric glanced around the room, assessed the looks of complete confusion, flashed a huge smile and clapped his hands together. A couple of kids jolted awake.
“Okay, I’ll go first. This summer I went on a cruise with my wife. We planned to go down to Puerto Vallarta, Cabo St. Lucas and other amazing sites on the Mexican Riviera. The sea was rough and the waves were so strong they were rocking the cruise liner back and forth. By the second day I was ready to throw up a lung.” This time he really got a laugh. A rush of encouragement surged through him.
“So, I went to our cabin to rest. When I woke up, the sky was dark and stormy. I stumbled onto the deck to find it had been taken over by pirates! A nasty looking guy with a gold snaggletooth saw me. He must have seen something dangerous in my eyes because he pulled out his sword and lunged! I grabbed a nearby lawn chair and swung it out in front of me. We jumped and moved all across the deck. The storm was getting worse and the rain was pelting our faces. Just then, a huge wave rose above us, thirty stories tall. I yelled, ‘Hold on!’ and all the passengers grabbed whatever they could. But the pirates’ hands were filled with swords and daggers, purses and wallets and watches. They had no free hands to grab with, so the enormous wave swept them all off to sea. And that’s what really happened this summer.”
Eric waited for the laughing and talking to die down a bit before he exclaimed, “Wait, you don’t believe me?”
The room echoed with a huge resounding, “NO!!”
He laughed. “Okay, well what wasn’t true? Raise your hands, one at a time.”
A red-haired boy slouching in his chair yelled, “The pirates!”
“Hey, I said raise your hands. Alright, alright, Danny doesn’t think I got attacked by pirates. Can anyone tell me why?”
As the kids discussed which details were probably true and which were thrown in for dramatic effect, Eric started to feel a sense of accomplishment. These kids were smart. They could listen to a story and make their own connections. They could come up with their own theories and prove why their conclusions were right. Suddenly it hit him. He knew what project he wanted to try this year.
* * *
“Cross-curricular papers?” Nate asked as the two ate lunch together in the break room.
“Exactly, it’s perfect,” Eric insisted. “I was already planning on having them read Ties That Bind, Ties That Break and you’re teaching on China in the Middle Ages. They’ll be able to make lots of connections to class hierarchy and the influence of Confucianism. They won’t only be reading about something they happen to be learning in Social Studies, they’ll be forced to make direct connections because they’ll be working on the same assignments.”
“So I have to teach about literature in my history class now? I already have my assignments figured out, Eric.”
“I know, just hear me out. It’s gonna help them understand the context of the book, but they’ll also be more interested in the history because it’ll feel more real.”
Eric could tell it would take more than leveraging their friendship to convince Nate this was a good plan. “Look, I took a class on creating cross-curricular assignments a few years ago. I always wanted to try it but I was afraid I couldn’t pull it off. But if you’re on board, we can work on it together. Please, Nate. I’m sick of sending so many kids to eighth grade with poor writing skills. What they need is the confidence to make connections, come up with theories and provide the support to prove them in whatever classroom they’re in. We can teach them that.”
Eric bit his lip as his friend stared through the window at the kids playing basketball or lounging on the benches scattered around the yard. Nate sighed.
“Okay, but we’re working on this together. I’m really going to have to tweak my assignments. And you’re gonna have to tell me more about this book.”
“Of course, and you’ll have to teach me more about China’s history. Thanks, Nate.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Beneath his gruff exterior, Eric could tell Nate was interested to see how his plan would work out. He knew Nate wanted the kids to succeed as much as he did. He wanted to be able to pass them on to the eighth grade with the confidence that they had the tools they needed to not only meet but also surpass all expectations. He was a teacher, after all.