The first year I taught fourth grade, I was 22 years old. I had graduated with honors. I had glowing evaluations and references from my education professors. I was ready to be the best teacher I could possibly be. The first unit in the science text was insects. I decorated the classroom with learning centers about bugs, found pictures and books of insects, and even made a poster whose caption said, “What bugs you?” So we embarked upon an exciting adventure into bugdom. But reading a dry science book about insects falls very short of really understanding them. Science, after all, is about experimentation and hypotheses and hands-on learning. So, about a week into the school year I assigned homework: find a bug and bring it alive to class in a jar, complete with holes in the lid and something to eat.
Now, the first class I ever taught had 21 students, 17 of whom were boys. This assignment was right up their alley. Much to my delight, all of my kids brought in bugs, mostly grasshoppers, which just happens to be the most prevalent bug in Iowa in early September. But just looking at the grasshoppers and other captives was not enough to really impress upon their young minds the three characteristics which all insects have in common: six legs, three body parts, and an exoskeleton. The six legs and the three body parts could be clearly seen even through the glass of the jars. But the exoskeleton needed to be felt, or so I thought. So I told James to take his grasshopper out of his jar and take it around for each person to feel the exoskeleton. All went well until James got to Lupe. Lupe, short for Guadalupe, was a Hispanic whose family had immigrated from Mexico several years before. James and Lupe were best friends, which is probably why James released his grasshopper on Lupe.
Lupe immediately let out a strangled yell and fell out of his desk away from the grasshopper. Simultaneously, I had four other boys open their jars and volunteer to take their grasshoppers around to be “felt.” Chaos, screams, mischievous giggles ensued. Most of the students were out of their seats, either releasing grasshoppers or trying to escape from them. Bedlam reigned supreme for a horrifying eternity to a young teacher who doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Eventually though, order was restored. However, some of the grasshoppers were not found - at least not until recess time when I heard, out in the hall, a passing third grader remark to his friend, “I wonder why there are grasshoppers in here.”
I taught in Hampton, IA for three more years. But I never again asked the students to bring in live bugs. My older, wiser version was to ask my fourth graders to bring in scarabs, jewelry which is designed to look like beetles. But that’s another story about the ignorance of youth. Truly, youth may be naive, but experience is an effective teacher.