I’ve been going through some old comments looking for that one that has the list of all the things a teacher does in the course of one day (it’s a ridiculous amount of stuff but I can’t find the comment), but I did find this from Nathaniel which I turned into an article at the time but can’t find it, so here it is again. It reminds me of one of the opening scenes of Cyrano de Bergerac* by Rostand. (It was posted in response to that discussion we had about TPR about a month ago. Nathaniel created a list of sample things to say to people who give us the backhand slap that TPRS isn’t the “only way to teach”):
Nathaniel:
This discussion reminds me of a refrain I have heard much this year:
“There is more than one way to teach, you know.”
I have heard that several times. This year. What does that mean? Why would anyone say that? How does one respond to such a statement?
Do I say, “Oh, really? Thanks. I never knew that.”
Or, “How many ways are there?”
Or, “Let’s see. You teach one way and I teach another way. Why, wha’d ya know? That’s two ways right there.”
Or, “Let me think. Before I taught how I teach now I taught another way, and before that I taught a different way. That makes two…no, make that three ways.”
Or, “Wait a second. You are begging the question. Shouldn’t you first ask me whether or not I believe there is only one way to teach? Or at least ask me how many ways I think there are to teach?
Or, “No way. There can’t be more than one way to teach. I used to teach like my teacher taught me and now I teach…ah…different. Why, I do believe you are right, there are two ways to teach.”
Or, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Or, “I always kind a thought grammar-based explanations and comprehensible input were basically the same thing. I never thought of them as more than one way to teach.”
Or, “Doesn’t that open up a can of worms? That might mean there is more than one way to write a letter, or more than one way to cook a carrot, or more than one way to exercise, or more than one way to make a living. Yikes, this is getting complicated.”
Or, “Reminds me of the story where the teacher knew 437 1/2 ways to teach. Yeah, really, I think it was written by Blaine Somethin’ or other. Don’t quite remember the last name.
*THE VISCOMTE:
No one? But wait!
I’ll go and trade him one of these same blows!…
(He goes up to Cyrano, who is watching him, and stands in front of him, with a conceited air)
You…you have… hmm .…..a very large nose!
CYRANO (gravely):
Very!
THE VISCOMTE (laughing):
Ha!
CYRANO (imperturbably):
That’s all? …
THE VISCOMTE:
But..
CYRANO:
Ah no! That’s too brief, young man!
You might have said…Oh!… a hundred things, to plan
by varying the tone … for example just suppose…
Aggressive: ‘I, Sir, if I had such a nose,
I’d have it amputated on the spot!’
Friendly: ‘But it must drown itself a lot,
you need a drinking-bowl of a special shape!’
Descriptive: ‘It’s a rock! … A peak! … A cape!
What’s that, it’s a cape?….. It’s a peninsula!’
Curious: ‘That oblong bag what’s it serve you for?
A sheath for scissors? Or a writing case?’
Gracious: ‘Do you love the winged race
so much, that you benignly set yourself
to provide their little claws with a shelf!’
Insolent: ‘Sir, when that pipe of yours glows
does the tobacco smoke rise from your nose
and make the neighbors cry, your chimney’s on fire?’
Considerate: ‘Have a care, … lest your head grow tired
of such a weight … and it’s the ground you sit on!’
Tender: ‘Have a small umbrella fashioned,
for fear lest in sunshine it lose all its color!’
Pedantic: ‘That rare beast, Aristophanes, Sir,
named Hippocamp-elephanto-camelos,
must have on its head such flesh, such a solid boss!’
Familiar: ‘The latest fashion, my friend, that crook
for hanging your hat on? True, it’s a useful hook!’
Eloquent: ‘No winds at all, majestic nose
can give you colds! Except when the mistral blows!’
Dramatic: ‘When it bleeds it’s the Red Sea!’
Admiring: ‘What a sign for a perfumery!’
Lyric: ‘Is this a conch? … are you a Triton?’
Simple: ‘This monument, when does it open?’
Respectful: ‘Sir, allow me to congratulate you
that’s what we call owning a gabled view!’
Rustic: ‘Nah! That thing a nose? No way, not it!
That’s a dwarf pumpkin, or a giant turnip!’
Military: ‘Point that thing towards the cavalry!’
Practical: ‘Do you want it entered in the lottery!
Certainly, sir, it would be the biggest prize!’
Or lastly … parodying Pyramus’s sighs:
‘Behold the nose that mars its owner’s nature
destroying harmony! It blushes now, the traitor!’
– That’s an idea, sir, of what you might have said,
if you’d an ounce of wit or letters in your head:
but of wit, O most lamentable creature
you’ve never had an atom, and you feature
three letters only, and those three spell: Ass!
And were your wit of sufficient class,
to aim a single foolish pleasantry,
at me, in front of all this noble gallery,
you’d not have been allowed to speak a quarter
of the least beginning of a single one of them, for
though I aim them at myself, so wittily,
I don’t let any man aim them at me!
(from Act 1, Scene 4 of CYRANO DE BERGERAC, A Play in Five Acts, by Edmond Rostand)