In the late fall of 2006, I was elated to receive my placement for student teaching the following semester. I was a double-major in English and math, and my university required a diversity of classroom experiences–and there were some I had yet to successfully complete. I figured with those restrictions, I would be splitting time between classrooms (or schools or even districts), or have something that was far from my parents’ house, where I was hoping to live for the semester.
But that’s before I knew the teacher I would be placed with existed.
This teacher was a middle school math and English teacher in a school about 30 minutes from my parents’ house. His classroom satisfied the remaining requirements I needed to graduate from my university’s secondary education program.
It was, to put it lightly, one of the best experiences of my life.
I was able to practice various lessons out, get honest and constructive feedback regularly, try out some things, and basically run a classroom with all the scaffolds and supports I needed as a neophyte teacher.
What I didn’t realize until just recently is how strong his impact is on me when it comes to relationship-building. This teacher is a Milken Award-winning teacher, and I assumed that was because he knew both his content and how to deliver it masterfully (both of which are true).
What I realize now is that he is the teacher he is because he knows those things, but more so because he knows his students.
Here are some things I learned during the winter of 2007, complete with annotations of what I thought they meant and what they really mean.
EMP Awards
End of Marking Period Awards were his version of a paper plate award. Essentially, he would give out unique awards with names that match each students’ unique contributions to the classroom. He gives them out at the end of each marking period: 4 times a year. He maintained a spreadsheet of who received awards at each quarter, to ensure that everyone received at least one and nobody received more than 2.
What I Thought
I thought this was a great way to engage the students on a day that was otherwise a difficult one to manage.
I thought this was a way to celebrate each student for the unique person they are.
I thought this was a way to make sure everyone felt loved and celebrated.
What I Now Realize
It is all of those things. But to have it be those things…to have each student feel celebrated for who they are as an individual, it requires the teacher to see each student as an individual. It would be impossible to give out these awards without knowing the students on a level beyond their academic successes and failures. It forced him to see his students as individuals, and for the gifts and talents each of them had.
Speaking Spanish
This teacher had a decent grasp of Spanish, and would casually pepper his class with Spanish words and phrases.
What I Thought
I thought this was a great way to support the foreign language department as well as promote the use of Spanish. An easy cross-curricular support.
What I Now Realize
There were very few English Language Learners in his classes. However, there was a great diversity of culture, and many of the students spoke more than one language. Arabic, in particular, was quite popular. While this teacher didn’t know Arabic, by speaking another language, it showed the benefit of having more than one language to speak, thereby validating those who did speak multiple languages. It reinforced the idea that multiculturalism is important, making everyone likely more comfortable with the diversity of culture in their classroom and in their lives.
Playing the Accordion

Yes, you read that correctly. One of my most vivid memories of student teaching was when my brother was a guest speaker to talk about his role in the business world, for a jobs and careers unit we were doing. My brother quoted The Rolling Stones, saying, “You can’t always get what you want.” The principal, also in the room, starting singing the song, encouraging the students (none of whom knew the song) to join in. Then the teacher whipped out his accordion, and we had an awkward and awesome sing-along for about 10 seconds. It is, to this day, the most surreal teaching moment I’ve had.
That said, this was a relatively common enough practice that nobody (aside from perhaps my brother) was taken aback when the classroom teacher pulled out his accordion.
What I Thought
I thought this was a chance to relieve some pressure and intensity through music, and in an unexpected way that 7th and 8th graders seem to love.
What I Now Realize
The piece I didn’t mention above is that he also played the accordion for every student’s birthday. So every student had a day where they had this really interesting experience of being sung to with accordion accompaniment. It was a way to celebrate the community and the birthdays being celebrated, but it also provided stories for the students to connect with years later. I mean, how many students can say their 8th grade English teacher would play accordion during class?
Pennants on the Ceiling
On the ceiling of his classroom were university pennants. These were either purchased by him or given as gifts from former students and colleagues. I made sure to get a Central Michigan University pennant up there before my time was done.
What I Thought
I asked him about this, and he said he wanted his room to be so distracting that if everything was a distraction, nothing was. He had found this actually helped his students focus on the lesson at hand. I was surprised by this, but I found it to be be the case (the engaging lessons he had probably also played a massive role).
What I Now Realize
I didn’t think anything of the “gifts by former students” thing at the time. But this is a middle school. Grades 6, 7, and 8. If former students are coming by, it’s probably those still in the building, or picking up younger siblings. But these were college students coming back to his room. There was an ever-present facet of community built in to the classroom itself. If you were a part of that room, you could literally be a part of the room, if you came back and gave a pennant. People don’t do that with places they don’t feel are a part of them. They don’t do that if they didn’t feel like they were accepted and belonged. They don’t do that if they forget about that place after a few years.
His ceiling was covered with pennants.
All these lessons, tucked in the back of my mind for years, only now rising to the surface. Thank you for all the lessons you taught me, explicit and implicit. I can only hope I have created a fraction of the community in my classrooms that you have had in yours.