The year was 1949, and my father had just received military orders to Lakenheath Air Force Base in central England following World War II. Postwar England was a sad and dreary place. It seemed the hearts of the people had been damaged beyond the devastation of the countryside. Ration cards restricted the purchase of many staples, including sugar, butter, and eggs. The war had taken a terrible toll on the country. When we arrived there from America, we could feel the misery. We had come to help.
From my five-year-old perspective, the long, dark days, damp woolen uniforms, meager rations, and never-ending split pea soup for lunch had only a minimal negative impact on my first school experiences. For I was going to school, an event I had yearned for since my earliest memories. I was, as my mother said, ‘‘wired for it.’’ From the first I was clamorous to learn and could hardly contain the wonder of books and desks and teachers.
I began my formal schooling in a very strict parochial school in a little village called Bury St. Edmonds. The nuns were unbending in their discipline. There was certainly no foolishness allowed and definitely no fun. I have few memories of lessons learned or favorite teachers, yet it was here, I believe, that my desire to become a teacher was formed. Maybe it had something to do with the discipline and work ethic or the childlike wonder of learning for its own sake without the frills. Learning to read was one of my greatest joys because it opened to my curious mind whole new worlds.My natural quest for adventure found an outlet in learning, and I soaked it in like a sponge.
However, my curiosity and adventurous spirit got the better of me one day when I climbed up on the altar in the church to see if Jesus really was under that draped chalice as the nuns said he was. I did not see him. Even the severe discipline of Sister Paul Mary did not deter my quest for knowledge. Was I intelligent? I think intellectually curious would be a better description. In any case, my first three years of schooling in England set me on a course of learning for life and helped form many of my beliefs about education. The formation of my intellectual curiosity happened despite the hardships. I did not need worksheets, colorful pages, stars for performance, or grades that affirmed my competence. I had an innate joy in learning for its own sake. As I reflect on the model of the three-story intellect, I see that I yearned for more than just the facts. Staying on the first floor held no appeal. I wanted the skylight.
Reflect for a moment on your early school experiences. Those events helped shape your perceptions of your abilities and aptitudes. They define for you the beginning understandings of your intellectual abilities, your desire to learn, and your attitudes toward other learners. In fact, they may help explain why you became a teacher. As educators, it is helpful for us to examine the circumstances of our lives that led us into this profession. Each of us comes to it with a belief system shaped through personal experiences.
From my five-year-old perspective, the long, dark days, damp woolen uniforms, meager rations, and never-ending split pea soup for lunch had only a minimal negative impact on my first school experiences. For I was going to school, an event I had yearned for since my earliest memories. I was, as my mother said, ‘‘wired for it.’’ From the first I was clamorous to learn and could hardly contain the wonder of books and desks and teachers.
I began my formal schooling in a very strict parochial school in a little village called Bury St. Edmonds. The nuns were unbending in their discipline. There was certainly no foolishness allowed and definitely no fun. I have few memories of lessons learned or favorite teachers, yet it was here, I believe, that my desire to become a teacher was formed. Maybe it had something to do with the discipline and work ethic or the childlike wonder of learning for its own sake without the frills. Learning to read was one of my greatest joys because it opened to my curious mind whole new worlds.My natural quest for adventure found an outlet in learning, and I soaked it in like a sponge.
However, my curiosity and adventurous spirit got the better of me one day when I climbed up on the altar in the church to see if Jesus really was under that draped chalice as the nuns said he was. I did not see him. Even the severe discipline of Sister Paul Mary did not deter my quest for knowledge. Was I intelligent? I think intellectually curious would be a better description. In any case, my first three years of schooling in England set me on a course of learning for life and helped form many of my beliefs about education. The formation of my intellectual curiosity happened despite the hardships. I did not need worksheets, colorful pages, stars for performance, or grades that affirmed my competence. I had an innate joy in learning for its own sake. As I reflect on the model of the three-story intellect, I see that I yearned for more than just the facts. Staying on the first floor held no appeal. I wanted the skylight.
Reflect for a moment on your early school experiences. Those events helped shape your perceptions of your abilities and aptitudes. They define for you the beginning understandings of your intellectual abilities, your desire to learn, and your attitudes toward other learners. In fact, they may help explain why you became a teacher. As educators, it is helpful for us to examine the circumstances of our lives that led us into this profession. Each of us comes to it with a belief system shaped through personal experiences.
