Miss Vashti was my first teacher. As soon as I turned six,
summer before I started first grade, I was taken to her house for piano lessons. I felt like a very “big girl” indeed.Miss Vashti, her white hair piled atop her head, opened door of her Victorian mansion, and ushered me into inner sanctum. She motioned to me to climb up on piano bench and have a seat, and then reached out and ran her bony knuckle down my spine so I sat up straight and tall.
Every teacher I’ve had since then that made an impression on me provided those two things: inner sanctum and finger down spine. And they all got best out of me.
They were able to excite me about their subject matter because of way they created their environment and how they conducted themselves. To teach someone to learn to love learning is highest calling. Now inner sanctum and bony finger are both metaphoric. Neither actually occurred. Here’s what I mean by those terms.
INNER SANCTUM
The classrooms of those special teachers were different. We always settled down minute bell rang, opened our books and got to work. They approached their subject matter and us, students, with reverence.
When I entered Miss Vashti’s house, it was darkened and she spoke in hushed tones. She didn’t tap my turned up nose like everyone else, or talk to me like I was a little kid. She talked to me same way she talked to my grandmother. You bet I stood up straight and tall!
Everything was in its place, orderly, in a deep sense. It felt to me like it was a privilege to be there. The classrooms of teachers who impressed me were not just clean, but cared about. Their bulletin displays contained things about character and learning. Though I couldn’t have verbalized it, I was more interested in learning how to be, than in learning Geography. My first piano lesson was to place my finger on middle C (oh mystery of it all!), and then to read first page in music book. It was about practicing. There was a picture of a little girl on a trail that ended with “success” and there were pictures of pitfalls all along route which were labeled, “the bog of despair,” and “the forest of sloth.” Lazy girls would never learn to play piano! I did not want to be a lazy girl.
Each lesson began by playing scales, then piece I was learning with correction. Then I was to play piece for Miss Vashti to “enjoy.” Have you any idea how that made me feel? Miss Vashti sat back with her eyes closed and her hands folded and I gave her pleasure. I felt honored.
The classrooms of exceptional teachers also had ritual, daily and weekly. It was easier to keep quiet in Mrs. Wingler’s class on Monday when we knew Tuesday was discussion day.
THE FINGER DOWN THE SPINE
The teachers had high standards which they made clear and then modeled. “Turn around, sit up straight, put your feet on floor, look straight ahead, no talking unless you’re called upon.” That’s finger down spine. That’s how it’s done, as you know if you follow FlyLady ( http://www.flylady.com ) – put on your lace-up shoes and shine your kitchen sink.
Why does this work? Because if you put on your lace-up shoes, you have run finger down your spine, and if you shine your kitchen sink, you have taken action. You’ve done one thing and rest is then manageable. Cleaning a house is, after all, just shining one sink, and then shining next sink.
