Why my teaching of 9/11 is different to everything else I teach

What is the first significant world event that you remember?

For me, it is the death of Princess Diana in 1997.

Do you remember 9/11?

There’s not one current student in high school who can respond affirmatively to the question above - they’re all too young.

This completely transforms the way I teach about the 9/11 attacks within my history elective terrorise unit.

For, with this event, it is personal history.

I remember watching it on tv.

I know where I was when I saw the buildings fall.

I witnessed the fallout over the next few days.

I know what the world was like before 9/11 and how the world transformed afterward.

I can only do this for a select few events in the history syllabus.

For me, 9/11 is living history.

Therefore, to a degree, I am a primary source.

I can only imagine that some of my colleagues have similar feelings when it comes to events like the Vietnam conflict or the Cold War.

As I get older, and my students get - proportionally to myself - younger, I imagine that these opportunities to become an active player in my history lessons will only increase.

The conversation which fuels self-efficacy

In year 6 I had a conversation with my teacher which has stuck with me ever since. The entire interaction went for only a matter of moments but, on multiple occasions, I’ve sought to have a similar conversation with one of my students.

In short, my teacher invited me to her table - and like all students - I immediately assumed that I was in trouble.

Instead, all my teacher did was point at the results of a maths test we had just sat and, subtly, indicated that my mark was the highest.

From what I remember, the only words she said was “well done” and sent me back to my seat.

Over the last few weeks I’ve had a number of similar interactions.

Usually, for the top student, or at least a student who has performed well above my expectations, I’ll invite then up the front “to have a word.”

And, with assurance that they aren’t in trouble, they will cautiously approach.

By the time our short conversation has been concluded, the student will be grinning as the walk back to their chair.

Maybe I’ll invite them to guess their mark… and keep pointing up until they arrive at the grade.

Maybe, mirroring my teacher, I’ll just point to their name at the top of a list.

No matter how the conversation goes, the aim is clear.

The aim is for the student to leave with a sense of accomplishment.

Better yet, a previously unrealised sense of capability.

Hopefully, the student realises what they have the potential to achieve.

All with an interaction which costs me almost nothing…

The cost of having a parent-less ministry to kids on a Sunday morning

I wrote here that parents should be one of - if not THE - primary providers of spiritual input on a Sunday morning in regards to ministry to children.

The reason is simple, and I believe, biblical.  

I firmly believe that parents should be the ones who are responsible for the spiritual upbringing of the their kids.

But alas, this usually doesn’t happen on a Sunday morning.

Usually, the spiritual instruction for kids is provided by a primary leader - paid or unpaid - and some volunteers who are usually unrelated to any of the kids attending.

The reasons are numerous.

First of all, many parents are themselves being spiritually fed during the Sunday service.

Second, some parents feel unprepared or unable to be productively involved.

Finally, there is the desire to “give their kids space” and “not embarrass them” by having their parents be around.

Nonetheless, I think this exclusion comes at a cost.

For, the following things are lost when parents are not included in the ministry to youngsters (including their own) on a Sunday morning:

They neglect being an example of faith to their kids.

They miss sharing their faith with their kids and, hopefully, seeing their kids develop in their faith.

They are robbed of personally witnessing/experiencing the ministry to their children.

Now, I’m not advocating that a parent is helping every Sunday morning.

Obviously, the parents are themselves entitled to spiritual input on a Sunday, but having parents be totally excluded from the kid’s ministry is a cost which most parents shouldn’t be willing to pay.

No one has any idea of our internal wounds

Currently, I have a small scab on the inside of my nose.

I also bit the inside of my cheek while having lunch with someone earlier in the week.

Finally, I can still feel the remnants of an ulcer I had in my mouth from last week.

No one has any idea.

No one knows about my nose.

I’m hoping that my cover for my chewing ineptitude was effective.

I’m sure that no one noticed my ulcer.

Why would anyone?

There’s no external signs.

There’s no observable evidence.

I never told anyone.

But, I know.

I’m aware.

I know the way it effects me.

At times, the internal wounds have changed what I did.

But, by and large, they are just a problems I’ve minimised and done nothing about.

But, I’m not the only one.

My wife has also bumped/bit her lip over the last few days.

I only know because she mentioned it in passing.

Otherwise, I may not have immediately noticed.

In all this, I was reminded of the secrets we keep.

For, we all have hidden wounds.

We are all bothered by things unseen by others.

Unless these issues under the surface directly affect our actions, then we can effectively keep them covered over.

This is how a lot of our lives work.

Unseen to others, we all have our struggles.

We all carry our wounds.

And we all try to manage them as best as we can.