Keith started high school the year before, so he was an old hand at it by now. He loved the excitement and energy of being with thousands of other teenagers. I felt invisible. There were over 800 kids in just my sophomore class, and no way could I be noticed among all of them.
I was sick to my stomach that first day, when mom dropped us off across the street and I walked through traffic, crossed the busy parking lot, and entered the building where my first class was scheduled. The first day of school smell assaulted my nose, as strongly as the unforgettable smell of a dentist’s office hits you when you walk through their doors. I suppose I got used to the smell of school after a few days so I didn't notice it, but this morning the smell of chalk, pencil shavings, newly opened packages of paper, mimeograph ink, toner, butcher paper, teacher's early morning cups of coffee, bathroom disinfectant, the soap janitors had used the night before to mop the floors, along with teenage boys aftershave, teenage girls perfume, deodorant, shampoo, mouthwash, and all the other smells associated with hundreds of kids trying to impress each other, assailed my nose and added to the sick feeling in my stomach. I really wanted to turn around and run back to the safety of our car, but I knew mom had already driven away.
Apprehensively, I walked down the hall and into the room mom had pointed out on our tour the week before: math, my least favorite subject in all the world. The room was filled with insubstantial looking desks, really just plastic chairs with a small wood-veneered table-tops attached in front. They looked very modern and uncomfortable compared with the old heavy desks we'd had at Junior High. Most of the seats were still empty when I walked into the room, not many teenagers were as paranoid about being late as I was. They were still out in the halls, catching up with friends they hadn't seen over the summer. I chose a desk in the middle of the room, not too close to the front, back, sides, or next to anyone else, and slid in to my chair. The desks were uncomfortable! I was already taller than most kids, and there wasn't much room for me to stretch out.
The warning bell sounded, and gradually the rest of my classmates filtered in through the doors, taking seats all around me. I recognized a few of them, but most of the faces were new to me. I studied the few posters and notices pinned to the bulletin board as I waited for the tardy bell to ring, my stomach still doing flip flops with nervousness, then watched as my new geometry teacher walked to the front of the room, closing the door on his way. Anyone still in the halls from this point on would be marked tardy, and I was immeasurably happy I wasn't out there, lost, still trying to find where I was supposed to go.
Mr. Slade, my geometry teacher, looked out over his new students and smiled. "Well," he said, "you made it to high school!"
"Big news," I thought, as the rest of the class rolled their eyes.
"I've got some advice for making this year better," Mr. Slade continued, beaming. He was short, balding, and kind of funny looking, but he seemed to know what he was talking about, so we listened.
"If you want to get A's in school, you’ve got to brown nose your teachers," he told us.
"What?" I thought. "Brown nose the teacher? You want us to butter-up and become the teacher's pets?" But I listened.
"Here's how you do it," he explained. "Keep your eyes on the teacher at all times. When he says something funny, smile. When he says something he thinks is right, nod your head in agreement. When he's telling you something he thinks is bad, shake your head to show you think it's wrong. No matter what, keep looking at the teacher and show you are listening. If you'll do that, you will get straight A's in all of your classes."
I looked at Mr. Slade with astonishment. That was it? That was all it would take to get good grades in High School? He had to be kidding. But he went on.
"First of all, when you come into a room, sit in the front row. Then act like you're paying attention when your teacher is up in front, talking. If you'll act like you agree with him, you're teacher will think you must be smart. When you hand in an assignment, even if it's not the best paper he's ever seen, he will assume you were just having a bad day and he'll give you the benefit of the doubt. You'll atomically do better on assignments because you've listened to what he's said, but if you turn in a paper that should deserve a B, he'll give you a B+ because he likes you. If it really deserves a B+ he'll bump it up to an A because he'll think you deserve it. You'll be surprised, but if you're teacher thinks you like him he'll give you better grades."
This was something to think about. All of my life I had been an average student. I got B's and C's, and I assumed it was the best I could do. I envied the kids who always got A's, but I thought it was because they were extra smart and had more brains than me. I wondered if Mr. Slade's formula would really work?
"One more thing," he was continuing. "If you look at your teacher while he is talking, making eye contact whenever he looks your way, you will find an interesting thing happens. Within a few minutes your teacher will be talking directly to you. Try it and see if it doesn't happen. Everyone likes to be listened to, and your teachers are just the same. If you pay attention and look at them, in just a few minutes they will be focusing on just you, since you are listening to them."
"Well," I thought, "I wonder if that's really true? Maybe I should try it."
I enjoyed Mr. Slade's class so much that I didn't even notice how quickly the hour went, and soon it was time to move on to my next class. I decided to try Mr. Slade's experiment. I chose a seat at the front of room each hour, and I tried to look directly at the teachers, smiling when they said something funny, nodding or shaking my head in response to their comments, making eye contact whenever they looked my way. And you know what? It worked. Within minutes each teacher was talking to me, making me feel like I was an important person, like they knew who I was. I wasn't invisible anymore. It was amazing, and sometimes a little uncomfortable. There wasn't a chance for me to doze off or daydream, not with the teacher talking directly to me. Once in awhile it was a little embarrassing, because it almost felt like I was the only person in the room and I wondered what the other kids thought since the teacher was only focusing on me, but it didn't really matter. Suddenly I was one of the kids who belonged, and it felt awesome.
Not that I didn't have boring teachers sometimes, I did, and occasionally it was really hard to keep focusing and not let my eyelids close. But when someone is looking directly at you there is an added incentive to not fall asleep. I didn't automatically start getting straight A's, either, but my grades did improve dramatically. I never got another C in any class, and by the end of high school I was earning straight A's. How much fun! I don't think I worked any harder, but I automatically learned more because I was listening and actually focusing on what the teachers said. It's easier to remember something if you have paid attention when it was taught.
I am so glad I was in Mr. Slade’s geometry class, although math is still my least favorite subject. His first day of school advice changed my life, not just in school, but everywhere. At church, at civic meetings, wherever I am, it is now a habit to listen intently when someone is speaking, to make eye contact, to smile and nod my head and give moral support without even knowing I am doing it. And because of that change in me, I am no longer invisible and I really like it.
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