Preface
Chalk and Markers. Two different tools with the same purpose of making their mark on the appropriate surface, hence a chalkboard and whiteboard. I look back at my educational career and cannot help but associate my teachers to both tools, chalk and markers. It makes sense, given that many of them spent the majority of their time presenting material with each tool in hand. Yet there is a deeper association to help with this connection.
Though each surface marked by a piece of chalk or marker comes with the necessary eraser, the board surface is never the same after it has been marked. Dry-erase … it should be a seamless process to clear a space for the next set of content to be presented on the board. To those viewing the board’s surface from further than a nose length distance, it would appear spotless. However, if one zooms close enough, they can usually see something. Whether it is the outline of a past written word or number, there is often a slight shift in a board’s original color tone. A mark has been left.
The term “tool” is often used in a negative light when associated with a person. When we truly examine the purpose of a “tool” that a more reaffirming perspective of positivity is discovered. I think of the build and repair process. I think of the specific purpose each tool has to get the job done. All in all … I think of teachers. Educators, depending on the students they teach, have their own specific purpose. Whether it is the day-to-day lessons they present, or the broader full year view for their grade level goals, it all circles back to how their content is presented.
I am fortunate to have had so many great teachers with their unique methods and personalities. It would not be hard to recount something about each of them and their daily instruction during a lengthy school year. Always one for the route of memory lane, my elementary years stand out the most. There were no hour-long class periods to break up the day, only segments in a single class to cover all of the bases. The person covering those bases at the end of the day was the same one who did so at the start. This is quite a bit of time to spend with someone for one day, week, month, and ultimately an entire school year.
It puts all the more emphasis on the importance of the atmosphere they create for students to spend most of their days. This environment can make or break a child’s educational perception and appreciation. It is much more than the technology used to build student interest or the colorful decorations to stimulate their young minds. Those things, while they are perfectly fine, are worth nothing without one central ingredient … passion. Passion leads to purpose. Purpose leads to permanence.
As all things do, the cycle of each grade level eventually runs its course. There is a certain “reset” students undergo as they begin each one, as if starting from square one. It is the mindset of “out with the old, in with the new,” … new teacher, new classroom, new classmates, new material. Though the demands of a new year gives no time for a student to remain stuck on what happened in the prior school year, those events remain close to us. Forgetting those events is much different than forgetting to think of them.
I am someone who has always appreciated history. This passion of mine was not only noticed by each of my elementary school teachers, but encouraged and enhanced. Looking “back” is a key part of studying historic events that have shaped our society today. My personal history calls for the same process … looking “back.” Among my favorites are the nostalgic moments of simpler times, moments when I did not understand just how good life really was. A major period of this reflexive state is the K-5 elementary years. The perspective of time during this age range is quite substantial as each year feels like several put into one.
The mind is led to believe that much more went on during the span of a school year, making its list of memories very extensive. Any attempt to vividly recount them can be an intimidating feat, but I have always considered the challenge to be one with many rewards. The ultimate one is sharing this particular story with you. While each school year is made up of many different events, which you will see throughout this book, there is rarely an overarching, consistent theme they follow.
Teachers and students can often find themselves getting on and off many roller coasters within a single year alone. From the tedious study of the “personal history” I spoke of, there is only one year where the same rollercoaster we got on in August was where our class remained until the first week of June. No matter how steep the highs and lows may have been, we were truly all for one, one for all … truly together. There were few exceptions to this. Losing a student to a move, then gaining another for the same reason, along with welcoming two student teachers who put in their time and did what was required of them. Though those individuals may not have experienced the entire ride, they received the full experience in the time they had, and boy, what a time it was for all of us.
“We all hung on for our dear lives and finished just as happy as we started, just like a family should,” recalled Mr. Eddie Gibbs, the master at the helm of our 2010-2011 school year ride.
If Mr. Eddie Gibbs was associated with a marker, his would be one of pure and complete permanence. It all comes back to the cycle of purpose and passion, both of which he injected to his students from day one. It was even before then, on orientation day, where I managed to get a glimpse of a true blend of the old and new methods of instruction. Walking down the fourth-fifth grade corridor was a new world. Into the second door on the left, room 803, I realized the same must have been felt for my fourth grade teacher, Mr. Gibbs. A fresh sensation permeated through the room. Having spent the previous four years in another classroom and hall section, Mr. Gibbs was also making the move to, “the big hall.” Though it was the smallest corridor in the Vanceboro Farm Life Elementary building, the students occupying the space were on the upper chain of command among the other younger students.
There was a minimalist feel to room 803. With only the necessary set of objects filling the space, a purge of some sorts had clearly been completed before the move took place. Surviving the relocation was the class fish tank and several plaques and framed certificates proudly hanging from the wall. When it came to observing the room, two contrasting objects caught my attention. The first was a brand new “smartboard” centered ahead in front of the classic whiteboard. My understanding of Mr. Gibbs’ high pedigree began with noting how he was among the select few teachers to receive the new big screen device.
It would be the second object that solidified the special status of Mr. Eddie Gibbs. Just to the right of the classroom door was something out of a classic movie or television show set in a classroom. Mounted on the wall was no big screen but a big green chalkboard, something I had never before seen in person.
Man, I remember thinking, this guy must really be special. This is next level stuff.
The thought was certainly a good start, but I had no way of knowing just how special and next level the events of the next nine months would be. I was just scratching the surface.
Speaking of surface, that of the green chalkboard had a new, out of the box look. It was certainly a unique glimpse at two juxtaposing objects. The mystique of this observation was heightened when I considered the idea of a chalkboard purchase for Mr. Gibbs, in addition to the brand new digital smartboard. With public school funds, it was an unheard of thing to consider!
This kind of preferential treatment was a nine year old’s dream. It was also one of a grown man, Eddie Gibbs, which proved to be worth investing.
“I was one of the few people in that district that they allowed to have a chalkboard. I begged them for that chalkboard.” Mr. Gibbs remembered.
Acquiring it was an investment along the lines of time and effort more than it was monetary.
Mr. Gibbs recalled, “I think they went to get it from the old school in Vanceboro. Judy Fussel, our principal, knew that building had a chalkboard and I told her how much I loved writing on a chalkboard. She sent somebody over there to get me that chalkboard!”
With a gleam of pride, Mr. Gibbs capped off the memory by saying, “It happened just for me.”
Just for me too, I thought, already associating myself with the special status of the room before the year even began.
The two styles and schools of teaching tools were also on two ends of time’s spectrum. There was no telling what that green chalkboard had been in all its years. How many teachers used it, students learned from it. With a new home, the board had a new purpose; to continue building educational passion … educational permanence.
Sorry, I got caught up in the moment. No, fancy smartboard, I haven’t forgotten about you. It was intriguing to think of being the first group of students to put this “luxury” teaching tool to use. This was cutting edge technology … in Vanceboro, North Carolina of all places! It truly seemed like the best of both educational worlds were right there in room 803. Time would prove how the true impact was not a mere room number, nor would it come from any object within. Instead, it was the person occupying the room’s space, using its tools, and becoming the most effective one there could ever be.
Introduction
May 17th, 2024. I entered room 803 just as I would have thirteen years before. I arrived a bit earlier than a student would. As a substitute teacher, the very least I can do is arrive before the students do, right? It is certainly a good way to get started … on time. On this particular day, the routine “good” start had become exponentially greater than any one before.
The room, like the halls leading up to it, was consumed with silence before the first wave of students rushing to devour their daily breakfast waiting inside. To most, this setting would seem empty before the ensuing chaos could transpire. To me, however, the empty space was filled with much more than silence. Something was speaking at volumes much higher than any elementary-aged student could dream of reaching. In contrast to that, this was a noise I would never want to end.
These morning walks to the assigned classroom are naturally nostalgic. It is simply what happens when six out of my first ten years of life were spent in this very building. Five days out of the seven in one week … eight months out of the twelve in each year. Yet none of my prior walks compared to this one on May 17th, 2024. Other mornings would consist of a slow burn for that nostalgic feeling. Reality has its way of sneaking in with every step closer to the awaiting day’s lesson plans.
On this particular day, though, the build-up continuously grew. The peak was ultimately eclipsed upon entering room 803. I would soon realize there was no coming down from such a place. This “place” was first experienced in August of 2010, the start of my fourth grade journey. Nearly fourteen years later, there I was again … a student. Walking through the room 803 doorway was the same nine year-old boy who was set to embark on yet another long school year, wondering how we would ever get to another summer break.
Though I had become that same boy again, there were some changes I could not ignore. Wearing a lanyard badge around my neck, it was as close to “official” as a twenty-two year-old substitute teacher could possibly look. Aside from my changes, there were the hardwood floors that took up the entire room, which I imagine are much more acceptable to the frequent spillages in an elementary classroom. Once lined with a table of desktop computers was the room’s back wall. The 2024 version of this area is an iPad charging station. With each individual student assigned the device for their studies, they have no way of appreciating how the world is truly at their fingertips.
Nevertheless, a lot happens in the span of almost thirteen full school years since my first time entering room 803. As I did so on May 17th, 2024, a wave of familiarity crashed over me when the door opened. The space it exposed was different than mere nostalgia … this was love … this was home. Room 803 was the classroom of Mr. Eddie Gibbs, my fourth grade teacher, but it is not where this story begins …
and before I forget, yes, the chalkboard was still there, alive and well …
… the smartboard? nowhere to be found.
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