Lessons I Have Learned from My Students-Part 2

Beyond Words: Tuning into Tone of Voice and Body Language

Memories have a funny way of creeping up on you, sometimes when you least expect it. A retired teacher's mind is filled with so many moments that cause you to pause, reflect, laugh, grimace, and soak in all those magical, maddening, crazy, fun times you got to experience with children.

One such moment gave me a lesson on checking my tone and body language. Your students are always watching you. Whether you like it or not, you are a role model.

One day, I was trying to get the class in line for lunch — notice I said trying to. It was one of those times when you'd get the front of the line settled and ready to leave the room, only for the back of the line to erupt in silliness, wiggles, or an argument or two about who belonged where. And, of course, as soon as the back was settled, the front would dissolve into commotion! Standing there in exasperation, I loudly announced, "We are not ready for lunch. This is not a straight, quiet line! We cannot leave the room!"

It was my tone and my expression that prompted one of my students to say something that has stayed with me to this day. With a look of genuine concern, she asked, "Mrs. Robert, are you mad at me? Are you mad at us?"

One look at her face and those eyes was all it took for me to realize the impact — not necessarily of my words, but of my tone and body language. What made this moment even more powerful was that this student was one who always followed the rules, as close to a model student as you'll ever find (though we all know there's no such thing as a perfect student). It was as if that moment opened my eyes to the true weight our words — and the way we deliver them — can carry.

A teacher's words, or a parent's words, carry enormous weight. We must learn to be thoughtful with our words, our tone, and our body language. That takes time to master. Sure, we've all reacted too harshly or had a knee-jerk reaction to misbehavior — after all, we are only human, and we make mistakes. But we must remember that we are the adults, and we are modeling how to handle frustration and so many other emotions. That does not mean we cannot be firm when reminding or redirecting a child is necessary, but we must never cross the line into demeaning, humiliating, or berating. As Maya Angelou so wisely said, "Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better."

After my outburst, I took a few moments to breathe, looked once more at my student, and calmly told the class, "We all need to return to our seats and sit down. We will try lining up again in a way that is safe and quiet." Were we five minutes late for lunch? Yes. But when given a second chance for the students to line up safe and quiet, along with a second chance for me to use my words, tone of voice, and body language in the spirit of respect and cooperation, we were then successful. That was the day I learned a lasting lesson about keeping my emotions in check.

The Moments I Realized I'm Not As Cool As I Thought

Three humbling little stories — courtesy of my first graders

They say you should never let a six-year-old's opinion shake your confidence. And yet… here I am. I'm just a first-grade teacher, and I fully acknowledge that I probably shouldn't hang my self-esteem on the fashion critiques of children who still occasionally tie their shoes together. But somehow, I do. And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way. These three stories still make me giggle, and I hope they do the same for you.

Story #1 — The Hair

One morning, after washing my hair, I decided to take the easy route — lots of mousse, blow-dry, and a good scrunch. I was going for the messy look that was very much in style. Or so I thought.

Fast forward to arrival time. Students are filing in, and I'm greeting them with my cheerful "Good Morning!" when one little girl stops, looks at me carefully, and says:

"I can tell you had a really good night's sleep last night, Mrs. Robert."

Curious, I asked, "Oh? How can you tell?"

"Because your hair is all messed up."

I smiled, assured her she was absolutely right, and thanked her for noticing — all while suppressing something caught halfway between laughter and mortification. Intentional bedhead, it turns out, is completely lost on a first grader.

Story #2 — The Jacket

Back in our younger days, my husband had a Harley, and weekend rides with friends were one of our favorite things. I loved everything about it — the open road, the freedom, and yes, the merchandise. The t-shirts, the boots, the jacket.

I had found the most perfect brown leather jacket, deliberately distressed to look aged and worn-in. I loved that jacket. I felt effortlessly cool in that jacket.

One crisp morning, I wore it to school. We headed out to recess, and I stood in the field watching the kids scatter — some racing to the swings, others starting a game of chase. Three little girls lingered nearby, within earshot, eyeing me up and down.

Then I heard it.

"Poor Mrs. Robert. Look at how old her jacket is."

I looked down at my perfectly, intentionally, lovingly distressed leather jacket — and quietly walked away, giggling to myself the whole time.

Even when I think I look cool, I clearly do not.

Story #3 — The "Fun Sheets"

I have always believed that school isn't meant to be work, work, work. Joy belongs in the classroom just as much as phonics and math facts do. Good teachers make time for stories, songs, chants, jokes, games, quiet moments, and a little silliness — because that's where real learning takes root.

Early in my career, I was determined to make even the most routine parts of the day feel special. So I came up with a simple idea: instead of calling those daily practice pages "worksheets," I'd call them "fun sheets." The ones with phonics patterns and capitalization rules and math facts — you know the ones. I figured if the name carried a little joy, maybe the task would too.

For years, I handed out the daily "fun sheet" with great enthusiasm.

Then came Parent-Teacher Conferences. One of my student's moms leaned in with a smile and said she had a story for me. She told me that her son had come home, looked at his returned fun sheet, and announced:

"I don't know why Mrs. Robert calls these 'fun sheets,' because they are not fun at all."

We both laughed. Hard.

He wasn't wrong. And his honesty was a good reminder: you can soften the edges and change the name, and it might work for some kids — but children have a remarkable radar for authenticity. Sometimes the most valuable lesson we can offer them is simply this: not everything in life is fun and games, and that's okay too.

Teaching first grade has a way of keeping you humble, keeping you laughing, and keeping you real. I wouldn't trade a single one of these moments.