Some people have commented to me over the years on how ‘patient’ I am. That comes as a surprise to me. You see, I haven't always been patient. I come from a long line of people in my family from both Irish and English descent and the quality of patience has not been very high on the list for many of them.
For example while growing up, I have strong memories of my father being very impatient with one or all of his five children. If my dad was push by one of us to his limit by doing something inappropriate or stupid like climb a really high tree or jumping off a pool house into the pool unsupervised...that was one of my brother’s moves or beating up a younger sibling...well let’s just say, dad totally lost it. My father’s voice would suddenly reach a very loud pitch as he would yell out loud, “Lord, Love a Duck!” or he would count out loud from 10 to 1 in a loud voice to calm himself, “!0, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, !!!!” As a child you knew once you heard my dad counting out loud it was serious and you had to find cover immediately before he got to 2 or 1. I often took off to my room to hide in the closet or to the woods behind my house..if I was the guilty one. The woods were perfect cover, for I knew he wouldn’t go back there to look for me. We all hid for a while allowing my dad more time to cool off.
As a teenager I had an awesome mom who probably did a little too much for me. You see I was the last child, the baby of the family. And I was a pretty easy child to parent, if I don’t say so myself. Compared to my three older brothers, I was a total angel! So my mom used to do all my laundry, pick me up from school, take me to all my sports practices and cook all my meals for me. Like I said earlier, she was an awesome mom. But the downside of being loved so much is I didn’t really learn how to organize my own stuff because my mom did it. Often as a teenager, I would get so frustrated when I couldn’t find something. Like if I was looking for a book that I needed to take to school, or my favourite shirt to wear or an completed assignment that went missing...I would lose my cool in a second. I used to start yelling from my room upstairs, “Mom I can’t find it!” I would be red in the face and be just fuming in a frantic state as I looked everywhere in my room or closet for missing items in like hyper mode. My mom would always calmly reply, “Where did you last see it??” Great question. My response was always, no frigging idea! After a few more minutes of frustration on my part, my mom would appear in the doorway of my bedroom, would calmly and silently look around my room and 99% of the time, she found the lost item in a few minutes and handed it to me. That same scenario played out countless times while I was in high school. My mom never lost her cool, like ever.
As a young classroom teacher teaching elementary students in grade 2 or 3 in those early years, I was better at being patient with the young students but sometimes, I would lose it when the kids wouldn’t listen to me. You know when you have 30 kids in front of you that need your attention, it is raining outside and they haven’t gone out for recess like all day? So, you are stuck with each other in a very small rectangular classroom for 6 plus hours. Those were tough days as a young teacher. So I admit it. I did yell at students in those early days. Not the best teaching approach. When I started having my own kids 2-3 years later, I had this epiphany one day as I was staring lovingly at my beautiful baby boy Jesse as he slept in his crib. I asked myself, “Would I like it if a teacher yelled at Jesse? How would I want my own son to be treated in school?” Of course I answered, “No! I wouldn’t like it if a teacher yelled at my son and yes, I wanted my son to be treated with respect while at school for sure!” And you know what, I changed my ways right then and there. I know for a fact that yelling at students doesn’t solve anything. It just makes the other person feel small or bad or humiliated. I took a silent vow to myself right then and there, that I would no longer yell at kids.
So in order to succeed at not yelling as a teacher, I had to work really hard on my patience. I would spend a lot of time looking at different inclusive teaching practices and how to boost a students own self-esteem and overall social skills. Basically I discovered how to teach and run a democratic classroom where every student has a say and is included in the learning process across the curriculum. This took years of practice. What ended up happening was students felt valued, respected and listened to, and they totally became a partner in learning with me as their facilitator. I, in turn, had to be a strong leader, and make choices each day with their input that everyone was happy with. I modeled how to be inclusive every day and you know, I stopped yelling. For there was no need to yell. Everyone bought into this learning paradigm. It was beautiful!
I would have to say that my last year as a classroom teacher in 2015-2016 was the ultimate test on how far I had come with my patience. That year I was teaching grade 1 for my third year in a row and my principal gave me a real challenging class. Not his fault yet that was the reality. 27 kids; 18 boys, 9 girls with one student with autism. Of those 18 boys in my class, 13 of them were first born children. They all competed to be the ‘leader’ of the class, even with me! It was a total nightmare...at first. Every day I worked hard with them on their leadership, communication, problem-solving, attention and overall social skills. In my 19th year as a teacher, I had never worked so hard in my life. Every day was like being in the jungle. But I was determined to keep my cool and be patient with them all.
It took me several months to calm them all down and teach them how to be inclusive and thoughtful and kind towards their neighbour on a regular basis. How we were all in this together, not as separate little people but as a team. I stressed to them day in and day out, we have to look out for each of us on the ‘team,’ and we can’t let our ‘team members’ down. Some days I would go home and cry, just a little, for the students had pushed me to my limit. I think I was fairly successful last year in the classroom. I kept calm 85% of the time. Did I yell? Only when needed and when safety was a big concern. With 18 boys safety was a concern a lot, especially when out in the playground.
So I guess overall, my patience has grown and improved with each passing year. And when you are around young children all of the time for your job, it presents you with a great opportunity to practice. I sure did.
I spoke to my dad today on the phone. His patience is being tested at the moment, for he is looking after his three youngest grandsons with my mother this week. The boys are 7, 10 and 12 years of age. He is 84 years old and my mother is 82 years old. Maybe not the best decision by my parents. My dad and I were talking about how it was going with the three boys. My dad said, “Pretty good. Sometimes it is calm and sometimes it isn’t.” I then asked, “How is your patience these days?” He said I quote, “Much better now, for I have really been working on it. When I feel frustrated, I try to leave the room and let your mother handle it.” Wow! It was amazing to hear my dad say that. He no longer yells for the Lord or counts backwards out loud.
So if my 84 year old dad can improve his patience, maybe there is hope for all of us who are striving to keep our cool all day, every day. I believe being patient is possible and something we can all attain. Like everything else in our life, it doesn’t come easy. Yet if you work at it little by little, day by day, year by year, you will for sure come out on top. I am still working on it and hope by the time I am 84 years old, I will be just as calm as my dad. If an Irishman can do it, so can you!
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