Today I endured!
For today, after giving many history lectures, bombarding my students with paperwork and information, holding countless discussions and redirecting the students back onto the subject in hand, steering the point away from non sequential babble such as, who got laid at the weekend; we were all heading off to the Manx Museum National Heritage where the curator had kindly agreed to let the students examine the sword of Ballateare (I owe him a pint).
The students, all armed to the teeth with piles of lecture notes and materials all gathered around, pushing and shoving, love teaching and nothing makes me happier than seeing the first sparks of recognition, understanding, when thought synapes begin firing to make connections in my students brains (please take into account, these are not little children but 18+ grrr just grrr) while we discussed artefacts and determining dating methods (the very subject we have been going over all term).
Then, to my utter joy and rapture, one bright spark had been paying attention and piped up about strata of rock, comparing soils, carbon dating materials found around or attached to the sword at the time of excavation. Hurrah! This bright spark of a girl, restored my faith in teaching. The other students appeared miffed with bright spark for knowing the right sort of things to say. In the end, snapping I roared 'SHE STUDIED, YOU SOULD TRY IT' not wanting to give them the power to extinguish the bright spark out of her, with their malevolent glaring.
In the end bright spark had an uncanny effect on the other students, one that I had not foreseen, a development, a brand new zest for learning. By the end of the session the other students were clambouring around bright spark, yearning for her thoughts on this and that.
My turn to smile and smile smugly, this is what teaching is all about!
Now off to meet the curator with the sole intentions of get shitfaced on a few pints and a packet of peanuts.
ROLL ON END OF TERM.
Ballateare Sword ~groans~