Girard B. Thornton
Missouri Teacher of the Year
St. Peters School, St. Peters, Missouri
Grade K-5, Physical Education

My teaching philosophy
For me, teaching is not confined to, or defined by, the school, nor is it as much a profession as a way of life. Teaching is a calling for me, an intrinsic need or drive which permeates my core beliefs and is expressed in the way I live my life. No matter how I have chosen to earn a living, I have always been, and will always be, a teacher. According to my current teaching contract, I am a physical education teacher, but physical education is just the vehicle through which I deliver my message. Every teacher hopes that his or her students gain knowledge, and I am no different. However, when I go to work each day, I am seeking to impart far more than the rules of games and results of exercise. I want my students to know that they do not play games in order to win but to learn. Through games, they learn good citizenship, cooperation, sportsmanship, safety, friendship and loyalty. They learn to be graceful winners and losers. After the game is over, what should be remembered is not who won, but how they played the game and treated others. In the end, their reputations—the ones they create through their actions—are far more important than the scoreboard.

My philosophy in action
My teaching style to a casual observer, would probably be described as kind, yet firm, with consistent routines and behavioral expectations. However, this general description barely touches the surface of my beliefs and does not reveal my true strengths as a teacher. I believe that a good teacher should create a safe learning environment, and I accomplish this through routine daily procedures, and consistent fair expectations of student behavior. Students know when they enter my gym where to go and what to do every day. I have captains choose teams through a private “player draft” using names on index cards, so that no student ever has to stand against the wall and know they were last to be chosen. A good teacher shows that he cares for each child as an individual, and I demonstrate this through kind mannerisms and listening to understand not just respond, as students speak. I make it a point to greet children as they enter the gym, to call them by name in the hallway, to follow up on conversations we have started and to address their personal interests whenever possible. My greatest strength, however, is in the way I teach leadership and responsibility. I believe that all children want respect, and want to be thought of as responsible. Simply telling them to “be responsible” or “be a leader” is not enough. Students have to be shown what responsibility and leadership mean, then they have to be given opportunities to practice these qualities in a safe environment. Finally, in order to internalize a behavior, children need to be given opportunities to teach it to others. My true job, and my real strength, is to create more teachers.

I was approached this year by one of the school counselors to see if I could find a way to help a third grade boy. “Matthew” was identified as academically at risk, and having low self-esteem. He had trouble making good choices in friends, and often turned to “Doug,” a stronger boy who would belittle him. I realized that Matthew could not learn to be a leader without practicing leadership. I asked him if he would mind helping me set out the equipment each morning before school. After we finished working, we would play catch or shoot baskets and just talk. I found out that Matthew, who was a very sensitive boy, had recently lost his grandfather, who was his best fishing buddy. Matthew really enjoyed helping out in the gym. I gave him more responsibilities by showing him where everything was stored and allowing him to find the equipment for me. I then looked for a younger boy that needed similar help and found “Jacob,” a first grader. I told Matthew that I needed help with a younger student and asked if he would act like a big brother to Jacob. Matthew was eager to begin. Each day, Matthew had Jacob help him get out the equipment and then began letting Jacob pick an activity while they played and talked. I met with Matthew alone occasionally, and we discussed how he could talk to Jacob to help him make better choices and to stand up for what he felt was right – how to be a leader and not just a follower. I was able to speak to Matthew’s problems through our discussions of Jacob. Once Matthew had taught Jacob how to find and care for the equipment and they had developed a strong bond, I began the last leg of the journey. I told the boys they could each bring a friend to help on Fridays. On the first day, Matthew chose Doug. When Doug appeared at the door ready to take control, I simply said, “Sorry, Doug, Matthew’s the man–he decides here.” Many of Matthew’s classmates stopped that day to ask if they could come help too, and I told Matthew that it would be a good idea to “share the wealth” and pick a new friend each week. As the months went by, changes began to take place in both boys. Matthew assumed more leadership qualities, formed new friendships with students his own age and was able to tell Doug, “I don’t like it when you treat me this way,” (just like he had taught Jacob). Jacob, in turn, began to make better choices as well. At an assembly, I heard him turn to a friend and say, “I can’t sit with you because we get too crazy!”

My greatest teaching accomplishment
If I were an engineer or an architect, I could easily point to my greatest accomplishment and say, “I built that!” However, as a teacher, I find it difficult to make such a claim. I work, each year, to build into my students a solid foundation that will connect school to the rest of their lives. This foundation gives them opportunities to grow as people, and to practice being responsible, kind, nurturing, and worthwhile members of our society. Whether it is with varsity athletes, children at summer camp, middle-school students in Advisory Class, student teachers or elementary school children, I hope that my students understand that being a healthy person goes beyond the body—beyond muscular strength, speed, or agility. I try hard to show my students how to include others and I warn them of the danger of excluding others because they are different. I help them see how responsibility and respect are demonstrated through sport as well as in other aspects of their lives, and that being an “athlete” is more about how they play than how well they play. When mentoring new teachers, I try to impart the knowledge that the subject you teach is not nearly as important as the relationships you build with your students. At times, I wonder if Mr. Schaeffer ever suspected what a difference he made in my life. As a teacher now, I realize that like Mr. Schaefer, I may never know the impact I have made upon any given student. Although he may not know it, Joe Schaefer could certainly point to me today and say, “I helped build that!” Perhaps, some day, I can proudly say the same of my students.

The most critical issues facing educators today
One of the most critical issues facing educators today is the lack of emotional safety for students, demonstrated through increased rudeness and aggressiveness by students.

Ways to resolve this issue
I believe that the resolution to the problem of angry, rude students and their subsequent withdrawal from or disruption of the educational process, is a strong character-education program which gives students the opportunity to interact and solve conflicts with little adult interference.

One thought to inspire teachers to succeed
The rewards I find in teaching are in the relationships I build with my students. I enjoy hearing about their weekend plans, their triumphs and heartbreaks, and I try my best to offer support and encouragement to them. I had not realized how much I gained in return, until my father passed away last spring. My father and I were very close, best friends, because we worked together on the farm for years, and his loss left a huge, empty space within me. I could not bear to take the funeral leave and spend the time grieving with just my own thoughts, so on the day after his death, I went to school to lose myself in my work. Being with my students was the support I needed. One example stands out in my mind, and still touches me deeply as I write about it now.

Danielle, a fifth grader then, had recently been diagnosed with a degenerative neurological condition. In a period of a year and a half, she went from being a carefree child to one with complete loss of eyesight. As the disease continued to advance, she began to lose other abilities, including verbal communication and word recall. Though I had not talked to her about my father’s death, Danielle found out from another teacher and brought me a sympathy card that she had obviously worked very hard to complete. She delivered it to me one morning and told me, with difficulty, how sorry she was that my father had passed away. As I looked down at Danielle with her card in one hand and her white cane in the other, I was momentarily overwhelmed. Here was this wonderful child, so very concerned for my well being, and while I feel it is my job — no, my duty — to protect my students, I could do nothing to protect her from her painful future. What a great lesson she shared with me that morning. Her simple expression of caring for me, as a person, not just a teacher, made me realize how much I enjoy being able to be a part of the lives of my students. I realized then what a great return I get from my efforts.

One lesson every student should learn
I became an educator because of my fifth to sixth grade teacher, Joseph Schaefer. Until fifth grade, learning, to me, was just memorizing facts that you only used in school to please the teacher. I saw no other connection, no other motivation. Mr. Schaefer changed that. He connected my world and the school world as we took field trips to gather and study rocks and minerals, and planted a vegetable garden at the back of the playground for science class. We enlarged a map of the United States to 50 feet by 100 feet and painted it on the playground for social studies class, then we designed games for the younger students to play to learn their states and capitals. He brought our class together as a community that cared for each other and helped each other succeed. During my fifth grade year, Mr. Schaefer took me aside one day and asked me to help out a new classmate named David. At this time, Webster Groves, Missouri, had no special resource classes for students who struggled. Every student in Mr. Schaefer’s room worked at his or her own level. I was working through the seventh-grade math text while David slogged through the second-grade book. While I was devouring chapter books, David was practicing easy readers. We all accepted fact this readily, and although David was not one of my “crowd,” he never bothered anyone. In truth, until the day Mr. Schaefer pulled me aside, I gave little thought to David one way or the other. That was Mr. Schaefer’s point. David had no real friends, was rarely included in recess activities and lived on the fringe of our class. Mr. Schaefer asked me to befriend David—to make him feel included, and to look out for him. At first, I accepted this duty because I did not want to disappoint Mr. Schaefer. Over time, what began as an assignment grew into a friendship. As I grew to know him better, I learned that although David was different, he was a neat kid. Through my relationship with David, I learned a valuable lesson about the power of inclusion and thoughtless exclusion as well. Looking back, I realize that Mr. Schaefer taught character education long before it had a name. He was a quiet, unassuming man whose power to teach and change lives came from the strength of his character and his real interest in all of his students. He had an unfaltering persistence that helped us recognize the power within ourselves. As time passed, and I began to consider my future career, I could see no higher aspiration in life than to be like Joe Schaefer. This feeling still resonates within me today.

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