Under the title ‘Teacher Presentation Is Not Always the Best Way to Teach
Not surprisingly, I don’t think those seminary students ever for a minute grieved my inability to deliver long lectures. I don’t imagine our children would grieve that loss either. One Sunday I accompanied my husband to a stake conference meeting in Retalhuleu, Guatemala. I was asked to share a few thoughts about family home evening to that long narrow chapel bulging with rows of reverent, endearing families and Church members of all ages. At one point in the talk, I suggested that family home evening is not an appropriate opportunity for in-charge parents to deliver long, boring lectures to their poor captive children. I had just barely finished my sentence when, way in the center, a tiny, attentive eight-year-old boy—looking very much like a miniature missionary in his white shirt and long tie raised his hands in the air and began to applaud loudly. His horrified mother gently but quickly pulled his arms back into his lap, but the point had been made. I suspect that the little guy was representing children all over the world with his demonstrative endorsement of my point.
Students Themselves Can Be Essential, Effective Teachers
Besides inevitably compromising my ability to lecture, my language immaturity served as a constant reminder of my dependence on those students for help with the instruction. I had no false sense of confidence in having all the answers, or even the ability to express well the ones I did have. In a quest for class participation, I was motivated to prepare with much thought and prayer the questions I hoped would encourage the students’ genuine contribution to learning. I quickly learned that a well considered, thought-provoking-question is more important for advancing conversation and learning than a skillful lecture. I tried never to ask a question to which I already knew the answer. Questions that allowed for and celebrated their personal insights and experiences prompted the richest, most satisfying engagement. As those students recognized my unmistakable, honest need for their thoughtful participation, they rose ably to the occasion and offered customized insights I would not have known to present in any language. Had my turning to them been contrived, condescending, or disingenuous, the result would not have been the same.
Although I expected my limited Spanish to minimize my ability to connect with my class, my efforts to learn their language became an unexpected bond between us. Those teenagers, like teenagers anywhere were regularly amused by my errors and delighted in offering corrections, which were always a benefit to me. On one occasion I sought to initiate a discussion about the Doctrine and Covenants 45, I referred repeatedly and with enthusiasm to “La Segunda Vista,” which translates to something nonsensical like “The Second Sight” or “The Second View.” With a characteristic twinkle in his eye, Gonzolo interrupted. “Hermana, I think you mean ‘La Segunda Venida'” (or the Second Coming).
He was right. I may have lost something of the momentum of my presentation, but I gained a connection with those students who were amused by the obvious imperfection of their North American teacher’s Spanish. I learned much from those young friends about creating a house of learning as I received correction. We were all unmistakably teachers and all learners in the class and we were all edified and rejoiced together” (Doctrine and Covenants 50:22) ~Kathy K. Clayton, Teaching to Build Faith and Faithfulness (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2012) 20-22
