Like Transmuting 'Duh' to 'Oh!'

Often, part of teaching is finding a way to explain a concept to a student who simply does not get it.  This may require an unorthodox analogy or comparison.  And that may require YOU to think of something in a totally new way.  This can alter your perceptions, and make you all the better for it.

It's rather like alchemy in that regard.  Alchemists were not merely trying to transmute base metals; it was a spiritual quest, wherein the process also transformed the alchemist as well.  Teaching can offer you those moments, and it is beautiful when they occur.

For example, I have always strived to run my World Literature (Mythology) class like an honors course, even if I am not allowed to give honors credit for it.  I usually mostly have the kids who I've recruited, and nearly everyone wants to be there.  We tackle some heavy concepts, and I really enjoy the open discussions we have in that class.

But this year, due to schedule problems, a large group of athletes who had wanted weight training got dumped in my class instead.  This was not the kind of class they wanted, and most tried to get out but could not do so (there's nowhere else to put them.)

I like most of them, but they really do not have the background knowledge to be able to keep up with the pace I normally prefer to move at in class.  So I have to slow down and simplify things at times.  When this becomes an issue is in the delightful side tracks and teachable moments that pop up, as these involve an open exchange of ideas and discussion on current events and general facts about the world around us.

Many of these kids end up completely out of their depth.

But God bless 'em, they ask questions.  One kid, we'll call him Jason because that's his name, is always asking basic questions.  The honors level kids snigger about his ignorance, and get annoyed that I have to slow down and explain stuff, but not only do I want to give Jason the chance to learn, I figure I can model some good behavior for the honors kids by remaining patient.  Hey, it might work.

We were having a discussion about the economy (it started as a discussion about the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl, but you know how theses things go,) when he asked, "Why doesn't the government just print more money?"

Honors kids rolled their eyes at his ignorance, but I explained that doing so would devalue the currency.  He still didn't get it.  So I talked about Germany after WWI (everyone does that, I think it's mandatory or something.)  He still did not see the problem.

So I made it all about hats (I almost did shoes, but that would have set the lower level kids off on a vigorous discussion about shoes, because they are obsessed with shoes.)

I said, "Imagine you pay fifty dollars for a really awesome hat.  This hat is so cool and unique that you are the envy of all who see it.  Now imagine you come to school and see that I also have the same hat.  We acknowledge each other, because we are still both pretty unique and special, even if neither of us is the only one to own the hat.

Then we see two more people who have the hat.  We feel like we are in some kind of elite club, the Awesome Hat Club (meetings are every other Tuesday.)  Still pretty cool.

Then eight more people get the hat.  A dozen hats in the school make it far less rare, but now we are still at least in the top ten percent of the school.

Then twenty more people start wearing the hat.  Then twenty more.  Soon it seems like everyone has the hat.

How much is the hat worth now?"

Jason thought about it and said "it's worth less because it's too common.  If anyone could get it, it's not as special.  So if they print too much money, anyone can get it, and it won't be worth as much."

And like that, a young man learned the principal of scarcity.

A small lump of gold appeared in the crucible into which I had put some lead.

And now I can use the hat metaphor to teach that lesson the next time I'm asked.

Thanks, Jason