Chapter 1
For Eddie Gibbs, like all of us, life’s early events were foundational for his later motivations.
“I was born in Washington, North Carolina. Raised in Hyde County, on a farm. My parents owned a grocery store. So I learned to work bagging groceries at the grocery store,” said Mr. Gibbs.
Limiting himself to a single work setting was not the case for Mr. Gibbs, and it never would be moving forward.
“My Uncle owned shrimp boats, so I spent summers heading shrimp and culling shrimp on a shrimp boat. And we grew up on a family farm with a garden and all the things that country kids should have. So, I had the best of all worlds, I really did.”
With the appreciation for a diverse range of environments, an individual can enable themselves to see the best and bright sides of each one. More importantly, those same qualities have a chance to be discovered in regards to the people in those environments. Young Eddie Gibbs would find himself in one with eye-opening impact.
“We didn’t have Kindergarten when I was a little boy. So, I started first grade and I was the very first integrated class of students in Hyde County Schools,” said Mr. Gibbs. He continued, “I had two first grade teachers, a white woman and a black woman. The way they did it was they mixed together the all black school and all white school, the teachers, and they put them together at Davis School in Engelhard.”
Sparking a flame within the heart of Eddie Gibbs, still burning to this day, was one of those two first grade teachers.
“My first grade teacher was Ms. Carma Gibbs. I mention her name simply because we were not related. But on my first day of school my momma packed my lunch like momma’s did back then. I was so excited just to be in school!”
This wide-eyed form of excitement is easily the most pure feeling a child can experience. When a curveball is thrown, however, it can also prove to be a fleeting phenomenon, ending just as quickly as it began.
“We were headed out back behind the building where the cafeteria was and Ms. Carma was leading us out and my lunch box fell open and my lunch fell in the mud. And I was just devastated, I mean I was a first grader, I was gonna starve to death that day! I knew it.”
The brief hint of fascination toward the new world had faltered for young Eddie Gibbs. It left him vulnerable to a child’s worst fear. Alert to the dire, life or death stakes felt by a six year-old student on his first day of school, a choice was made to turn the moment on its head.
“Ms. Carma came over to me, God bless her, she had her hair all up in a bun and all the things, and she said, ‘Eddie, I’m so glad that happened!’ And I just sobbed and cried, ‘what do you mean, you’re glad that happened?’ In her hand was a dime or quarter.”
For Mr. Gibbs, the consequential nature of this moment was quite evident in his retelling. He took a pause to allow me, the audience, the full realization of where this gesture was leading.
He continued, “She said, “I found this in my pocket this morning and I was hoping I could have someone to eat lunch with me today. Would you mind if I bought your lunch and you ate with me today?’”
Mr. Gibbs took another pause in appreciation for the power of kindness. It was clear he received more than lunch money and someone to sit with on his first day of school. While young Eddie Gibbs needed those things to make it through that particular day, something else more substantial was at play … something powerful enough to get him through any imaginable circumstance.
“I knew that minute she loved me,” said Mr. Gibbs, “and I decided that day, honest to God … honestly, that I was going to be a school teacher. I promise you.”
Such moments can make or break a child’s spirit. The spirit of young Eddie Gibbs had received an eye-opening revelation to the power of love. While it could be expected in the home, from his loved ones, it showed how the feeling was available no matter where he was. Love is always around to receive, and more importantly, it is there for us to show others when they desperately need it.
Something substantial was built for Eddie Gibbs that day and its structure still stands strong, with doors open wide for any and all people to enter. The connection between “love” and the teaching profession is a quality that never left Mr. Gibbs. It became his best, most notable one. Receiving it that day enabled him to give it back in droves. No matter how influential a single quality may be for a human being, it is only one part of our complex make-up, consisting of many others. Some are quite tough to navigate on our own.
As life is known to do, other difficult moments are thrown our way. The result of some just simply cannot always build us up. Whether we like it or not, the “breaking points” are inevitable. Yet, if we are never broken, what would be there to pick up and build back?
Along the way for young Eddie Gibbs, there was plenty to piece together. An early calling to teach did not rid the learning process of its complications for him.
“It was very hard for me. I remember being in reading groups. Back in those days they grouped us as red birds, blue birds, yellow birds, and so forth. And I remember being grouped in the yellow birds, and they were the bad readers! And I came home and told my momma, ‘I can’t be a yellow bird’, she said, ‘what do you mean?’ I said, ‘I’m going to be a teacher! I’ve got to learn how to read! You’ve got to help me!’”
Our feelings of fragility require the most care and attention. When we receive it from those closest to us, the greatest impact can be experienced and those feelings can be fostered.
Mr. Gibbs continued, “My momma and daddy read with me every single day. We read in the car, we read at home, I mean everywhere. And within a month or two I had moved through the yellow birds, through the red birds, into the blue birds.”
The little victories are pieced together and made possible by every opportunity a student is encouraged to continue on the pathway to improvement. Ultimately, those small steps in the right direction will make the biggest difference. Each one will enable all learners to push themselves beyond their educational inhibitions.
“It was never easy,” Mr. Gibbs said, “I had a good time at school. I loved being there and learning,” he assured me, “but I had to work at it. It was not natural.”
In any performative endeavor we are often measured by a system of grades. The high standards for academic achievement can easily deter students from recognizing the true purpose of education. For young Eddie Gibbs, a healthy philosophy for learning began at home.
“My mom and dad never required me to make A’s. They always said, ‘if the best you can make is a B, then I expect you to make a B. I don’t expect you to make an A, but I expect you to be the best you can be.’”
To achieve his very best required more effort in some specific areas of school. Part of the introduction to school subjects is a student’s discovery of their strong suits, along with their weaker ones.
“Math was not my subject. Math was definitely not my subject. It was hard,” said Mr. Gibbs.
What can often be forgotten is that these difficulties do not magically escape a teacher’s headspace. Remaining even when they themselves have to eventually introduce students to those subjects are the same difficulties they also dealt with.
Mr. Gibbs explained, “When I moved on to become a teacher and when I taught fourth grade and I taught sixth grade math, it was a struggle.”
As any good leader does, Eddie Gibbs chose to make the most of the difficulty, turning the struggle into a strength.
“I knew, because I understood the struggle, I was a better math teacher, because I can look at students and I can say ‘I know this is going to be difficult for you. I know where your misunderstanding is. Let me tell you what you’re going to think is wrong, and let me go ahead and tell you how we can fix it.’”
To hear a highly skilled teacher acknowledge their own educational hardships is a refreshing revelation. It was one that I, as a former student with his own math struggles, greatly appreciated. There were other helpful tactics to organize a jumble of numbers into something a nine year old can grasp, many of which Mr. Gibbs included in his teaching presentations. The most effective one was the idea of placing such figures into everyday situations, then simply telling the story of the math problem. Like any good story, told by an even better storyteller, Mr. Gibbs kept our class on the edge of our seats. We wanted to know the story’s conclusion, which was the answer to a specific math problem. No matter what one’s connection was to math, there was a collective willingness to find the answer waiting for us at the end of each story.
Mr. Gibbs remembered, “Those little things are meaningful to students because to us they were our stories. And we tied our own stories to them. And because we tied stories to them, and because we had history with those kinds of math problems, you all understood it and I became a better teacher because of it.”
This minor shift in approach was all it took to make a major change in how each student interpreted, and ultimately appreciated, an overwhelming subject. When it came to the “real world” and his own career, Mr. Gibbs was used to making some more drastic shifts.
“My career began as a high school teacher,” he recalled, “I taught high school drama. I was not degreed to teach high school drama and chorus. But I started my career back where I was a student, in Hyde County Schools.”
The “not degreed” part of this start in education is a glimpse to a different time in North Carolina education.
“At the time, the state of North Carolina was going through what they called the basic education plan, and with that you did not have to have the teaching requirements to teach a particular class. So, I could be a teacher, I was certified as a teacher, but I was not certified in drama, but that’s what the school needed.”
A willingness to be available and fill in where needed would be very helpful during the next phase of Eddie Gibbs’ early career.
“They hired me as a drama and chorus teacher, and then in the afternoons I went to the high school and taught a high school English class to struggling learners.”
On a continuous rise was both the physical ground Mr. Gibbs covered, along with the expansion of his teaching capabilities.
“I did that for a couple of years and then someone got a job as the assistant superintendent, so they moved me to second grade, and I taught second grade for a while. Then I got a group in a very small school system, I mean we had maybe about one hundred and fifty kids in our school- grand total, kindergarten through sixth grade. That year in second grade, I taught that group and then the third grade teacher left, so I looped with them and taught them second and third grade. Then they allowed me to teach them second/third, third/fourth, and fourth/fifth. So, I looped with this group of kids for many years. It was a great experience.”
One classroom … two grade levels … at the same time. No matter how small the school or class size, this is an impressive feat, to say the least. It explains so much of how well-versed Eddie Gibbs was in elementary education, but it did not stop there.
Mr. Gibbs continued,“Then I taught sixth grade there.”
Of course he did! But this pace could only be kept for so long. A brief break from it is what opened his eyes to what had been the key motivation for such an intense schedule.
“I quit teaching for a couple of years and moved to Beaufort County in Washington, owned a restaurant, catering company, and a flower shop for a couple of years. After that I just realized this was not my thing. I needed to be with children.”
The gravitating pull back to the classroom was one Eddie Gibbs did not attempt to resist.
“So, I taught in Beaufort County for a couple of years and then I moved to Craven County.”
While Mr. Gibbs inched his way closer to Craven County as the years passed along, it is important not to undervalue the unique quality of each experience. Every year brings on new challenges, students, environments, and most importantly, opportunities. Before recounting Mr. Gibbs’ 2010-11 school year, the one I had the pleasure of being part of, I must first jump forward to the beginning of another year. Though it was a moment where I was no longer a student of Eddie Gibbs, the appreciation and understanding of his philosophy reached a new level. From the outside looking in, my in-depth view of a man in his element was an amazing sight to behold.
Chapter 2
August 2015 - West Craven Middle School
Orientation Day. The smell of a clean, freshly waxed school hall fills the air, as does the nervous feeling of excitement of another school year’s start. I roamed West Craven Middle School with my little sister and a feeling of freedom, as a new high schooler usually does in their “old” stomping grounds. I may have only been two months removed from my final year there, but had happily separated myself from any association with the place. Onward and upward.
It makes sense to ask what business I had being back there so soon. The easy answer to that question is “none,” no business whatsoever. In fact, I am sure my teachers from the prior year were ready to reveal this answer to me when I approached each of them. My fourteen year-old self gleefully sauntered the halls, as if I was walking down memory lane before its pavement had time to settle. I actively sought to show my sister, a rising sixth grader, the ropes and inner workings of her new school. What I was less willing to share was how far I was from ever receiving the “insider” status during my time there. In both my middle school academic and social life, I barely managed to stay afloat. No worries, though, revisionist history was doing its trick. All of it was a distant memory.
It was not long before I found myself back in the sixth grade section of the school. The area was more of a “no fly zone” during the seventh and eighth grade years. Us “upperclassmen” of the middle school were simply in another realm of importance. To consider going back in that lowly territory was completely off the table. I had gotten past that mindset, though, especially on the cusp of another rung on the ladder of importance’s low end, as a ninth grade student. With that status yet to kick in for me, it was a privilege to help guide my sister in her own new environment.
With avoidance of this sixth grade section, I had been keeping myself from a very vital figure in my educational history. Mr. Eddie Gibbs, beginning in the 2013-14 school year, was under the same roof as myself and many of his other former elementary students. As a sixth grade math teacher, he was housed in an area I viewed as “been there, done that.” My view of the man himself was quite the contrary to this, however. It would brighten my day to see Mr. Gibbs in passing. I was not alone in receiving pleasure from the clear look of pride he showed to his former students. My “hello” and friendly wave was among several in one single class.
Something was different, though. While the students walking in his line may have been a bit taller than the fourth grade individuals he was used to leading, and I am sure less pure, as middle schoolers tend to be, that was not it. I came around to understanding how the full “Eddie Gibbs experience” was more than just a wave and smile in passing. So much of it required the atmosphere of his teaching space to have full reign over those learning in it, or simply there for a visit. I chose to pay the long overdue visit on that day in August of 2015, and I will forever be glad I did.
Entering his room while my sister was down the hall meeting her new teachers, a quiet sense of reverence was kept. I was among several other people in the room and joined each of them by putting my focus and attention on Mr. Eddie Gibbs. He had full command of the parents and new students in the room. There was no intimidation tactic he used to capture their focus, none would ever be needed for Mr. Gibbs. His presence alone was enough to keep all eyes and minds glued to every word he spoke. Much of what he was telling them I had heard before, yet it was as if I was hearing it all again for the first time.
I tried to put myself in the position of the students and parents by wondering what they may be thinking as Mr. Gibbs listed his class expectations and overall approach. It was certainly a lot to take in, but this information was different from the typical orientation script most educators follow. Instead of a student’s psyche being drained from the mundane rundown of a new class, the words of Mr. Gibbs could fill one’s spirit with an irresistible taste of possibility.
There’s no way they realize how fortunate they are right now, but one day they will be.
It was on that August day, in 2015, and precisely in that moment, where I realized how fortunate I once was and could always be.
The moment came to an unexpected end when I heard the voice of Eddie Gibbs call my name. He asked, “Isn’t that right, Matt?”
Caught up in imagining the thoughts of those parents and students, I had completely lost track of my own. From my “fly on the wall” point of view, I was suddenly summoned to use my position as a former student and add some more credibility to his presentation. Already having an abundance of it himself, I was fully confident in backing up whatever Mr. Gibbs was asking.
I simply nodded and possibly offered the response of, “Oh, yes!”
Then I really wondered what these parents and students had in mind after seeing me, the random kid standing in the corner. When they soon left the room to continue their tour, Mr. Gibbs was the one who asked the question I am sure many others were thinking that day.
“Boy, what are you doing here?”
He said so in a lighthearted manner, but his playful tone did not keep me from wanting to explain myself. I did so by proudly promoting the high schooler status I could officially claim. Before sharing any further details, another group of parents entered the room with their students. Mr. Gibbs was thrust back into giving and receiving the all-important first impression. Putting myself into his position, I imagined the required energy reignition had to be an exhausting feat. My curiosity extended to what he was thinking.
Giving some insight to those thoughts, Mr. Gibbs explained, “Whenever we had orientation I felt like it was important for parents to know me. To know that I was going to set a standard with their child and that I was going to provide them the support they needed to be successful.”
Knowing the audience is an essential element to connecting with them and tailoring a message to have its most valuable impact.
“I needed middle schoolers who walked in my classroom to realize, as it always was, regardless of the grade that I taught, I said it a million times, ‘school is business to me.’ I love it, but school is business. It is meant to help kids be what they’re going to be in life. So you have to treat it like something serious. Yes, you can do the nice, sweet things, and do the hokey pokey and all that stuff. But the truth is, I’m going to require you to do homework, I’m going to require you to behave, I’m going to require you to work in my classroom.”
Never forgotten among those expectations was the rewards for a student’s effort, as Mr. Gibbs continued, “And then we’re going to play hard. I always said, ‘we work hard and we play hard.’ Because we could work all week long, but when it was time to play, it’s time to play.”
The balance of work and play is never an easy one to maintain, especially with students of the elementary and middle school age. They are the ones who usually vie for the latter option, but are used to feeling as though there is no shot of ever having it in a school setting. A motivating source for students to give their best is knowing the fruits of their labor are within reach. Before this, however, there was an important first step for Eddie Gibbs to complete.
“I needed to let parents know that I was not your child’s teacher from last year. Times had changed. And it was going to be business.”
A page must be turned to another chapter at the start of each school year. At this late elementary and middle school level age, students have a clean slate to build new habits and start fresh. What has been done in the past, whether it be good or bad, will not have much impact on what is to come. For teachers, though, and Mr. Gibbs specifically, there are certain philosophies worth carrying over from years past. When it came to orientation day each year, and the first impression presentation he created, a conscious decision was made.
“I never ‘dressed up.’ I remember specifically in my time at orientation and in my time now when we open our school to parents, I never dress up, and there’s a reason. Because if you come to school on the Wednesday after school starts, you’re going to see Eddie in his khaki pants, polo shirt, and his Vans tennis shoes. I don’t ever want to give people the impression that I am something that I am not. What you hire, or what you see, is who I am. And I always felt that was important.”
The preference for authenticity and the “what you see is what you get” mindset was noticeable on that August day in 2015, just as it was in August of 2010, the start of my fourth grade experience. Eddie Gibbs presented himself as a man comfortable in his own skin, and as it turns out, in his own khakis and Vans! The impact of this choice went beyond the “look” of a student’s teacher, but the feeling that teacher gives off to their student. For a student set to embark on a journey in unfamiliar territory, there is immense value to the elimination of any mixed messaging from their leader.
There is no way any message can survive if it is without a firm foundational piece. The authentic theme Mr. Gibbs chose for his messaging had an unmistakable level of consistency. Eddie Gibbs never wavered under any circumstance, regardless of how anyone felt about his approach … and there were indeed some feelings.
“I had teachers around me that always questioned why I was doing what I was doing,” said Mr. Gibbs, “because so many teachers saw that the state curriculum was vast, and it was. So, they felt the need to start teaching on the first day of school … teaching hard.”
Eddie Gibbs saw fit to take a different route on a school year’s long-distance journey. This would be a marathon, he knew. Starting off with a sprint-like pace may have been tempting, but would come at an expensive cost.
“If you don’t create relationships and create the classroom dynamic that you want to have during the year, at the beginning, it is always harder to be a teacher. It is always harder to have success. So, you build those relationships. You let kids know where you stand, where they stand, and that this is their home. Then they’re going to do more for you.”
A student’s mental capacity must always be taken into account. Viewing it with care allows an instructor to preserve a young mind’s energy level. As Mr. Gibbs explains, there are plenty of moments where much mental energy is required.
“When you dig into that curriculum and it gets to be terrible- and it is, it’s a lot- you’ve built a relationship with kids. You’ve already got them on the journey with you, so they’re willing to do whatever is necessary. Those other teachers were not getting their kids on the train, so to speak, they were just shoving it at them.”
The proper pacing is not strictly associated with higher performance, but better classroom morale and motivation.
Mr. Gibbs offered a look at the high risk of improper pacing, saying, “By March, those teachers, their students, they’re ready to kill them! They’ve given them all they had.”
He then provided a comparison to actual results of a more reasonable route in the school year’s latter months, “We were still on the journey, we were heading somewhere! We knew that we were going together.”
That “somewhere” destination was the end-of-grade testing period, or what we knew simply as the “EOGs", but there was nothing “simple” about them. Not that the tests were necessarily difficult. What sparked an array of complications to the psyche of both students and teachers alike was the ever-present thought of the tests. Looking back, the intensified levels of pressure for the third, fourth, and fifth grader age range is laughable. At the beginning of each school year an overly heightened narrative for these tests would be created and remain right up to the EOG period. Every lesson plan was geared toward preparing students to earn a passing score. Such a result would not only be an indication of the student’s success, but that of their teacher.
Measuring up to expectations from the higher, often unseen, levels of power was never a joking matter. From top to bottom, much was at stake, including the jobs of our very own teachers. While never explicitly said, no words were needed to indicate the reality of this element in public education. These high stakes, though felt by every level of power in the system, are placed solely on the shoulders of each teacher. While expectations are translated from the top chains of command and eventually reach our teachers, they are the ones tasked with translating them to young, underdeveloped minds.
Throughout a school year, and at breakneck speed, the weight of this load does nothing but increase in size. The root of such a high rate of growth is attributed to a school year’s limited frame of time. Considering the combination of these stress-inducing factors, along with a ticking time clock, one can understand a teacher’s preference for the rapid instructional pacing. From the standpoint of Mr. Eddie Gibbs, this brutal reality put even more importance on introducing us to a road less traveled.
“We knew that end-of-grade test was coming and we knew we were working our tails off for it,” Mr. Gibbs said.
The different method of learning would not be without a certain air of doubt by those on the highly populated road of education. From surrounding perspectives at each stop in his teaching journey, there was never a shortage of questions for Mr. Gibbs to answer.
“There was pushback, and it was not always easy,” said Mr. Gibbs, continuing, “but I stood firm. I did stand firm on that because I firmly believe that you’ve got to build a family with kids to get them to want to learn before you start making them learn.”
Any familial atmosphere cannot be established without trust. First obtaining the belief in themselves and their personal abilities, students can feel empowered and apply the same feeling to those around them. Though existing relationships are present among some students from years past, a holistic class dynamic is never carried over from one year to the next. Before any journey toward achievement can commence, teachers and students must learn to navigate this uncharted relational territory. It is commonplace for teachers to put emphasis on turning their class group into a team, but Mr. Eddie Gibbs had other plans … bigger plans. The train was not leaving the station until our team transitioned to one of a family.
After asking me to think of some less than stellar class experiences from my years as a student, Mr. Gibbs pointed to a key ingredient some teachers forget to include, “They probably did not build that unit, that family unit, and give you a purpose in learning, so you were just there. You were there and you didn’t know what was going to happen the next day.”
Pointing it back to my time in his 2010-2011 class, the notable difference was attributed to a clear sense of direction, both in our individual journeys and as a family of learners.
Mr. Gibbs summarized the resulting outcome of this by stating, “You knew what was going to happen because you knew where we were going.”
As we slowly inched away from the year’s starting point, Mr. Eddie Gibbs let it be known that our time and attention was well worth contributing to the journey ahead. Though long and strenuous, the realization and recognition of our collective potential would steer us in a direction of sustainable growth.
The wheels were steadily beginning to turn. Officially off and rolling … there would be no time to stop … nor would we ever want to.
No comments:
Post a Comment