Taking Grades for Teachers

Reflections of a Retired Teacher

If the Shoe Fits

A Research-Based Approach

March 31, 2012

     Prologue:  For those educators who are sick of hearing that they must immediately implement a certain teaching practice because it’s “research-based,” here’s a true story with an idea for using this worn-out claim for a bit of personal classroom amusement. . .

     No one has ever tagged me as a fashion plate, but I have always aspired to being color coordinated.  This was certainly true of my classroom attire—nice suits with matching purses, jewelry, and shoes.  Oh, the shoes!

     For the first few years, I clipped around in those pointy-toed, spiked-heeled jobs that were all the rage in the late 60’s and into the 70’s.  They quickly proved to be an annoyance, especially when I was the designated pitcher for my 7^th and 8^th graders’ recess softball games.  With each new day in the classroom, the need to stay on one’s feet and in motion became more apparent.  One’s choice of shoes, I surmised, is directly related to the appearance of corns and calluses, which greatly affects one’s comfort level, which is closely associated to one’s classroom presence.  These facts were research-based.  The toe-smashing shoes on stilts had to go!

   Thus, I began collecting comfortable wide-width pumps with low stacked heels that were conducive to fast walking and slow running. Except for a few minor differences—square toes or round toes—every pair was essentially the same design.  As the years rolled along, I began leaning toward an emphasis on neutral colors, a tangible sign of my growing fashion maturity.  The bulk of my shoe stockpile was sensible beige.

     And then, one fine day in ‘89, the inevitable happened.

     Having completed my formal lesson presentation, I sat dangling my legs over the edge of my desk as I answered questions from my group of gifted sixth graders.  I clicked the the heels of my shoes together, punctuating my satisfaction with their intelligent interest. 

     Then, without raising his hand, a wide-eyed boy pointed in my direction and shouted, “Miss Whisnant, your shoes don’t match!”

     Huh?  My feet stopped swinging in mid-click.  I looked down.  I wiggled my toes and felt the same degree of comfort from both feet.  Both beige.  Wait a minute!  Slightly different shades.  One square toed.  One round toed!   Researched facts don’t lie.

     My shoes didn’t match.  Whoops!

     A group gasp from my audience sucked the air from the room.  Apparently their teacher was a dunce.

      Think fast, Margaret!

     “No,” I said.  “They do match.  These are designer shoes.  They made only two pairs, and I bought both of them.”

       I scanned my audience.  Some were still leaning forward, focused on the shoes, their mouths gaping.  A few were blinking in my direction.  Eyebrows started rising.  Some made eye contact and grinned.

     “Really,” I said.  “If you don’t believe me, I’ll wear the other pair tomorrow.  They’re at home in my closet.”

  

    A chorus of laughter re-oxygenated the air.   “Awwwwwwwww, Miss Whisnant,” one of them howled.  “You’re crazy!”

    They upgraded me from dunce.   They had to. Their decision was research-based.

   I will take responsibility for creating some of the goofiness in this world but I don’t apologize!  Time after time when I encounter my former students as adults, the conversation rarely centers on the subjects I taught.  Without fail, they begin reminiscing and laughing about some wacky incident that took place in my classroom.  

     Goofy is good.  Goofy is educational!    The happy moments you create for your students will live just as long and strong as any facts you teach!   Maybe even more.

     These truisms are research-based.   Go to your closet and start shuffling through your shoes.  You know what you have to do.