When I was eight years old and as carefree as ever, I wound
up Mr. Crawfords third grade class. In the back corner of the classroom stood a
couch with extra fluffy pillow. Sitting
in class, I would sometimes stare at that old brown couch and daydream about
taking a nap while the rest of the class learned. But that was rarely the case
as Mr. Crawford’s lively attitude kept the students minds awake.
Mr. Crawford was frequently wearing a smile, the kind as
though he were up to something he didn't want anyone to know about. He would
grasp the attention on the class each morning by writing on the blue chalkboard
so loudly, you could see the chalk dust fall when it clicked against the board.
Just when you thought you were in for another boring lesson, he would reach for
his guitar, which was always at least an arms length away from him. “Sing with
me!” he would shout. The entire class would break into an educational song he
had so eagerly taught us in the previous weeks. With voice so encouraging and inspiring,
how could we not help but smile and sing along? The gentle strumming of each
chord played was another reminder of how Mr. Crawford was not there to make
learning stressful, but to make learning exciting and creative as it should be.
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