老師讀懂了學(xué)生

Let me tell you about a recent student of mine. We’ll call him Jack. He’s a quiet boy， our Jack， 1）self-possessed， responsible enough generally， 2）amply courteous， 3）eminently likable. In my 4）normative-level senior literature class， he was attentive and receptive but disinclined to push himself. He found a comfortable pace and stuck with it. The 5）snarky might be tempted to condemn him as undistinguished， B？/C+， just another kid—any of these 6）tantamount， in the current climate， to pretty heavy condemnation. More and more of late， I find myself compelled to defend kids like Jack.

Through the year， Jack ambled along at about three-quarters speed. Over the first few months， I waited for signs of 7）ignition. When he handed me a sub-mediocre paper as the last of the autumn leaves were skittering down the street， I deemed it reason for a sit-down. We had a pleasant talk. He agreed he could be doing better， acknowledged he had it in him， said he recognized the benefits of working hard； cause enough， I thought， for cautious optimism. We parted pals. But nothing changed. A nudge here， a prod there， even a mild 8）remonstration or two…nothing. Fair enough， I thought. A student， particularly a senior， is allowed to govern his own engagement， to deem my class not his bag. As long as something is. I left him to his own recognizance.

But across a long and mild winter came evidence of nothing from our Jack in the way of bags， no bag in any direction. Spring eased in—9）nary a whiff of fervor regarding anything.

Then in May， a new generation of leaves greening the trees， with the effect of a revelation， I happened to learn that 10）reticent Jack did have a passion after all…h(huán)appened to learn because he mentioned it. He had， as it turns out， a big bag， a let-the-world-go-on-without-me bag， a calling. I even liked that he hadn’t bothered to tell me about it until our time together was almost over； it was， after all， his. And it served， as far as he knew—or would at least let on—no useful purpose beyond the gratification of doing it， which he articulated poorly， which bothered him not in the least. He wasn’t being coached or spurred or assessed by an adult.

No competition awaited for which he was preparing. He’d had no special training for it； nor did it play even an oblique role， as far as I know， in any of his college aspirations. The pleasure and satisfactions were his alone and for themselves， and more than enough.

In May， I learned that Jack draws.

But it’s more than that： Jack draws pictures of three dimensions. He creates detailed paper models， sculptures really， with ordinary printer paper， pencils and pens， scissors and Scotch tape. He does it purely because he enjoys it. From the Hogwarts Castle to the Statue of Liberty to a life-size， wearable baseball cap， and on and on， some no bigger than a deck of cards， some as big as a 11）collie. Something strikes his fancy， he sits down and makes a model. If it takes a week， it takes a week. If the phone rings， he lets it. If the homework gets short shrift， so be it. And they are exquisite， these Jack originals. They are beautifully， masterly done. You should see them. Everyone should see them—the 12）Fabergé eggs of paper sports cars and 13）Millennium Falcons. On that note， though， Jack doesn’t seem to care much either way. It’s nice that people like them， but that’s not why he does it. The fun， the satisfaction， is in the doing.

It began a few years earlier. His family was on vacation at the 14）Jersey Shore. Time ran short at an amusement park， if I have it right， and Jack was unable to go on a ride he’d been eager to try. The family headed for the car with a 15）crestfallen kid in tow—which， I’ll point out， is a kid for you： Fun all day at an amusement park， and he’s glum about the one ride he didn’t get to go on. Well， thinks the parent， too bad. But， thinks the kid， I really， really， really wanted to go on that ride. Mid-mope， Jack gets back to wherever it is they’re staying and， not knowing why， reaches for pencil and paper and creates a meticulously detailed drawing of the ride， a longing drawing， a demonstration of frustrated ardor. A love letter. And， he realized at the end， it came out great. It was fun to do. Time and the world had vanished. Finished， he looked at the picture. Felt a measure of pride in his handiwork. Realized sitting there that the itch was not entirely scratched. Realized that the ride had a left side and a right and a back， so he drew them too. When he was done， there they lay on the table， four sheets of paper with drawings on them. Then he had an idea， a delighted little 16）zing： The ride doesn’t lie flat on a table. It stands upright. It has three dimensions. He went for scissors and tape.

Bliss does not have to be big and important. Nor must it bring one 17）accolades of any luster to matter. Bliss is more than its own reward.

Whether Jack goes on to become an artist or an architect or an engineer or anything else directly consequent to his enthusiasm for model making does not matter. He has learned something about passion， about focus， about clearing a space in his life and doing what he does purely because he loves and believes in it. He has 18）honed a set of abilities too. In choosing and doing for himself， he earns his confidence and self-worth. Very good things， these， and， I hope， lifelong.

我來告訴你最近我一個(gè)學(xué)生的故事。我們就管他叫杰克吧。他是個(gè)文靜的男孩，我們的杰克，沉著冷靜，通常來說，很有責(zé)任心，很有禮貌，十分討人喜歡。在我的規(guī)范性高級文學(xué)課上，他很專心，學(xué)得也不錯(cuò)，但不太愿意刻苦學(xué)習(xí)。他遵循著一套自己覺得舒適的學(xué)習(xí)方式。一些尖刻之人也許會(huì)說他是個(gè)平庸之輩，成績大概在C+到B？之間，不過是個(gè)普通孩子而已—這在現(xiàn)在看來已是很嚴(yán)厲的批評。最近，我發(fā)現(xiàn)自己越來越禁不住想保護(hù)像杰克這樣的孩子。

這一年，杰克以大概四分三的速度緩進(jìn)。在最初的幾個(gè)月，我等待著燃燒的苗頭。秋天最后的黃葉飄落在大街上時(shí)，杰克交給我一份中等偏下的論文，我認(rèn)為該和他坐下聊聊了。我們的談話很愉快。他承認(rèn)可以做得更好，他知道自己有能力做到，他說意識到了努力學(xué)習(xí)的重要性；我想，這樣情況還算樂觀。我們結(jié)束了談話，成為了朋友。然而沒什么改變。我不時(shí)給他一些提醒、一些激勵(lì)，甚至試過給他一兩個(gè)溫和的忠告—仍然無濟(jì)于事。我想這也很合理。一個(gè)學(xué)生，尤其是一個(gè)高年級的學(xué)生，應(yīng)該讓他自己決定學(xué)習(xí)的投入程度，或判斷我的課并不適合他。只要有適合他的就行。我讓他自己去發(fā)現(xiàn)。

然而，度過了一個(gè)漫長而溫和的冬天，還是沒有一點(diǎn)跡象表明杰克的興趣愛好在哪里，沒有任何方向。春天悄悄地來了—沒有一丁點(diǎn)熱烈的氣息。

到了五月，樹上長滿了綠油油的新葉子，或許是受到這萌芽的啟發(fā)，我偶然得知這個(gè)沉默寡言的杰克總算找到了自己的興趣所在……我偶然得知是因?yàn)樗艺f起這件事。