Thank you for being there for me!
School stands and falls with the teacher, as the famous Hattie study shows. Perhaps the topics of learning and school are so important to me today because I was so lucky in this respect. Time and again, I met teachers who gave me empowering messages.
In kindergarten, I was so slow and dreamy that I hardly noticed anything. If the nursery school teacher told a story, after two minutes I would drift off in my mind and imagine what could happen next. I usually only followed instructions after a stern look and an extra invitation: «Fabian! Are you listening?» So it wasn't surprising that I didn't pass the school readiness test.
Mrs Bergmann, my first and second grade teacher, signalled to me every day: 'You're safe. I can see you. You can relax.
When I finally started school after an extra year of kindergarten, I was blocked, slow to learn and convinced that I couldn't possibly learn to read: There were just too many different letters! Mrs Bergmann, my first and second grade teacher, gave me time. If I drifted off into daydreams, she would say my name in a warm, soft voice. If I paid attention, she smiled at me.
She signalled to me every day anew: «You are welcome here. I see you. You're safe in this place and you can relax. You'll learn to do that - at your own pace.» Step by step, I got a little better at listening and engaging with the world of letters and numbers.
Creativity and humour are more important than spelling
What would you do if you gave a clear assignment in art class and two boys modified each of these assignments so that they drew hundreds of little men having some absurd adventure? My fifth-grade teacher took it with humour and always patiently and amusedly had our drawings explained to him.
Fortunately, my German teacher also took a liking to my ingenuity. Although my essays didn't get top marks due to poor spelling, Mr Walker asked me if he could copy them and keep them for himself - he liked the original ideas in them and they made him laugh. With him, I always had the feeling that there were more important things than conforming and following rigid rules: Creativity and humour, for example.
When I started grammar school, I ended up in a very competitive class. Grades were compared, rankings were formed and averages were calculated. This began on the very first day after transferring with the question of what grades you had achieved in the entrance exam.
It wasn't easy if you got a bad mark back in this class: you were immediately met with derogatory comments or a sardonic grin. That's what happened to me in my first music exam. Unfortunately, I was the only one in the class who didn't play an instrument. The test was therefore a disaster.
Our music teacher performed a classical piece for us and had us analyse it. He asked questions about the rhythm, the melody and the instruments. What was meant to be a simple test for orientation was an unsolvable puzzle for me. While my classmates scored between 18 and 20 points, I only managed two. Frustrated, I went home with a miserable grade.
You know nothing about my subject - and yet we like each other
I found a letter on the dining room table - addressed to me. It said: «Dear Fabian, I was so sorry that I had to give you such a bad mark. I want you to know how much I appreciate you and how happy I am that you are doing so well in my lessons. I hope you and I continue to have such a good time together. Your single teacher, Thomas Fluor.»
Saying thank you to a teacher and showing our appreciation doesn't cost much, but it's worth a lot.
Of course we had a good time together! Music became one of my favourite subjects - despite consistently poor grades. I learnt from my single teacher that even weak pupils can feel comfortable in lessons and stay motivated if there is a clear distinction between the performance and relationship levels: You are weak in my subject - and yet I like you.
The right compliment at the right moment works wonders
Opinions can be divided about praise and compliments. If they are used for manipulative purposes, they take on a bitter flavour. And sometimes - as some authors fear - they can also undermine intrinsic motivation.
However, sincere, appreciative feedback can also set a lot of positive things in motion. Ilse Ruch, our German teacher at the Gymnasium Solothurn, managed to do just that. Instead of getting upset when two pupils were late or a pupil gave the wrong answer, she focussed on all the good things in everyday school life and reported them back to us.
For example: «You are such a pleasant class, I always look forward to lessons with you.» Or: «That was an interesting discussion today. Many of the thoughts about our reading were new to me too.» She always gave us the feeling that we were organising the lessons together, that we were not only learning from her, but that she was also learning from us and that we were all responsible for a good learning atmosphere.
One day shortly after my A-level exams was particularly memorable for me: At the end of the last lesson, my German teacher kept me in the room for a short while, looked at me and said: «Fabian, I want to read a book by you one day.»
From that moment on, I knew that I wanted to become an author. Today, Ilse and I meet for dinner every one or two years - and I always bring her my latest book.
We need teachers. And not just any teachers to fill vacancies. We need teachers who like children and young people, want to give them something for life and enjoy their job. This requires all of us: changes are needed in the school system so that teachers can focus on teaching and have the feeling that they can really prepare children for the challenges of the future. We need healthy framework conditions so that good teachers don't burn out. And we need to show appreciation for all the people who give their best every day in our schools.
Whenever we as parents see that a teacher is making an effort, we can take a minute to show our appreciation and say thank you. It costs nothing and is worth a lot.
