The Learning Dance

     “Mr. Robinson, it was just like you said…” Students harbor unreasonable trust in teachers. They fully believe that I will stand before them and deliver truth. A few view me with suspicion; however, the majority simply assume that I speak truthfully. Oddly, they frequently show greater trust in areas outside my expertise. Each day they arrive in my class prepared to hear what I say and then incorporate that into their mental framework, no matter the subject.

     I frequently stray off topic. The world continually presents me with new, intriguing things. I often share them with my students; sometimes on the spur of the moment. Caught up in the joy of a “new thing” I take a few moments of class to unveil some aspect of the world. The students enjoy these little diversions since I normally do not hold them accountable for this information. We all bask in the glow of some jewel or oddment unpacked. Recently the heavens provided such a moment.

     Those uninterested in celestial happenings might have missed this one. Venus, Jupiter, and Mars engaged in one of their periodic dances; better known as a conjunction. These relatively common

occurrences provide the night-sky viewer with moments of great beauty. During the last week of October this year these three planets lined up quite nicely in the early morning sky; in Lubbock, low on the eastern horizon. Each day as Christy and I walked they drew closer and closer. Finally, Venus and Jupiter abandoned Mars, forming a couplet leaving dim lonely Mars spurned, sinking down toward the horizon. As the climax drew near, I shared with my students.

     Using the white-erase board, I sketched out what was happening, giving a simple explanation of the orbital dynamics involved in creating such a conjunction. Trust me, my explanation was quite simple any math of physics teacher would have rolled their eyes at my childish scrawlings depicting this elegant dance. I shared with my students the joy of beholding the beauty of such a display in the cool dark of early dawn. They listened quietly, appreciating the digression for the delay of class more than anything else. At least that was what I thought.

     A day or so later one of my seventh-graders came into my room before school started. I number him among the handful of students who swing by my room for a little chat prior to the start of the day. I’m not sure why they come. Perhaps it is for a little camaraderie; perhaps they just need someone to keep them company until their friends arrive. No matter the cause, we enjoy our casual meetings in the morning. At any rate, Jerald came in very excited and exclaimed, “I saw it Mr. Robinson.”

     “Saw what Jerald.”

     “The conjunction, you know!”

     Light dawned, “Ah yes. How did you like it?”

     “Oh it was beautiful. I got up and went outside and looked to the east. And there it was. Mr. Robinson, it was just like you said, beautiful!” We enjoyed a shared moment of discovered beauty, sublime.

     I wondered what his parents thought when their son got up and went outside early in the morning to look at some odd thing Mr. Robinson told them about. Learning takes place at unusual times; often when we least expect it. Jerald is not one of my great enjoyers of history. But, I still managed to teach him something even when I did not plan to. That is part of what excites me every day. I never know what interesting thing will take place in my classroom. Sometimes my students learn; more often I do.