Two teachers driving down the highway…
Ok, here’s how it starts…
Two elementary school teachers are driving down the highway. One in the driver’s seat, the other in the passenger’s seat. This story doesn’t end with a punchline, a tag line or a moral of the story. In fact, this isn’t the start to any joke at all, at least not one that I know.
It was almost seven years ago that my dear friend Andy Mastin and I were driving on I-95, heading from a teaching conference in Washington, DC back to our homes and classroom in Brooklyn, New York. With typical road trip snacks on hand, and the “90s on 9: Top 40 Countdown” on XM radio, we shared stories of old exes and our college days, both having ties to upstate New York from our childhoods and college years.
Without a moment’s notice, I turned to Andy and asked, “SHOULD WE STOP?” I knew he’d seen what I saw and our teacher instincts took over before the chance passed us by. We pulled over to the side of the road, a hundred yards or so now past the object of our desires. With our flashers on, we picked up our pace and jogged to see if our eyes had fooled us. But no, there it was, the apple of our eyes.
We started back down the highway with our treasure in the trunk, ready to take it to our co-taught classroom and to wow our students. The following Monday, we did. At that point in the year, Andy and I’s first grade class was starting an inquiry-based study on cars. To prompt student wonderings and interest, we brought in any objects we could find that might light a spark of curiosity.
What we had picked up was an old tractor trailer tire. To 24 six-year olds living in East New York, Brooklyn, it was a hit. It was authentic. It was dirty. It was torn and shredded and greasy and fascinating. That day, we circled our students around our rug area. After sharing the story of our discovery, we took the tire out from a bag to show them the remains. Questions flowed. Where did it come from? What was it made of? What were those designs for? How did it get there? Why is it broken? What does it smell like? What can we do with it? Although only a simple piece of rubber now, the tire was somehow brought back to life with the questions of our students, prompting us to recall as much as we could about the uses of tires, how they’re made and how they’re worn down.
Following our gathering, we started a tire center in our car study. For an hour each day, students investigated parts of our study that interested them, concerned them or confused them. Students joined the center for a chance to touch the tire, sketch its tracks, use it in dramatic play, try to repair it and more. Other car artifacts followed. Our co-worker, who had once lived in Hawaii, offered up her license plates, which joined my California and New York plates in a learning center. An old steering wheel, also abandoned outside of a repair shop, was brought into dramatic play where students envisioned themselves driving passengers of all kinds. A rear view mirror, a headlight, a traffic cone, a brake rotor and an old seat belt buckle completed our collection.
By the end of the study, not considering the field visits we took along the way, our students were able to experience multiple parts of a car, both in tact and broken apart, from the comfort of our own classroom. What we can take from this is that although the world might not be as open as it once was, there is still life being lived that’s worth sharing with our students. Yes we can try to teach it OUT, outside of the classroom and outside of our homes. But sometimes, especially now, it might be a good idea to try to bring the world inside as well. An old, torn tire is exactly what it sounds like, but with the right ingenuity and enthusiasm, a teacher can make these everyday parts of our world come alive, even when so much of the world feels out of reach.