My Turn
Dial T for Teacher

Students in this rural Maine community can reach their teacher by phone at home. E-mail is next.

By Lynn Bonsey

Maine teacher Lynn Bonsey encourages students to call her at home.

It's Sunday night. I'm at the computer typing my lesson plans when the phone rings. "Hi, Miss Bonsey, this is Kate. Is it possible to get an extension on my Thanksgiving essay? I'm waiting for my grandfather to call, so I can find out if I'm related to the Pilgrims."

"No problem," I say. "Once you find out, writing your essay will be much easier."

"That's just what I thought. Thanks, Miss B."

Moments later the phone rings again. This time it's Daniel.

"Miss Bonsey, you know how we're supposed to watch the local news tonight? Well, I can't."

"Oh? Why not?"

"We have a satellite dish, and we don't get local stations."

"O.K. I'm taping the local news anyway, so you can watch it tomorrow in class."

"Thanks a lot, Miss B."

As I hang up the phone, I marvel at the many ways providing my phone number to my students has made a difference to them--and to me.

Each Monday I distribute an assignment sheet that details the week's work and features my home phone number. As I review the sheet in class, I remind my sixth and seventh graders that if they have any homework questions, or run into any glitches, they must call me.

And call they do. They call to say they've forgotten books, misplaced papers, or are confused about assignments. They even call to remind me that I've forgotten to pass out a worksheet.

Occasionally they phone me for personal advice. Other times they just want to know when the next ball game is, or, on snowy mornings, if school's been canceled. Sometimes they call simply to share good news.

Because I use my home phone as a teaching and communication tool, my students quickly learn to use their voices to become self-directed, productive learners. Both in my class and at home, they feel free to speak up and ask for help.

By doing so, they discover the art and power of negotiation: "I'm sorry, but I didn't get home until midnight. Could you please give me one more day to finish my book?"

An added plus: Students get to practice proper phone etiquette.

My phone policy takes very little personal time. On average, I field a couple of calls a night. Because my students know that I'm busy, they don't call during certain hours, and they honor my request to leave clear, concise messages when I'm unavailable.

I think it's a testament to the mutual respect we share that I rarely receive frivolous or crank calls.

My teaching partner has noticed. He has asked me to add his phone number to my assignment sheet.

Besides enhancing relationships with my students, the "off-duty" time I invest on the phone actually simplifies my teaching life and saves me time. To better plan the next day's lesson, I'm apt to pick up the phone myself and check in with struggling students.

Because kids know they can call me, I rarely have to deal with parental concerns--and when parents do have questions, they don't hesitate to contact me at home. And when a new student is feeling overwhelmed, my phone line can be a lifeline.

Parents appreciate my accessibility and willingness to offer homework assistance, and their appreciation spills over into goodwill and support for our little school.

One mother of kids with learning disabilities told me that her boys never would have made it through seventh grade if they hadn't been able to call me.

The real reason her sons made it through seventh grade, I told her, was because, in spite of their disabilities, they took the initiative to pick up the phone and ask me for assistance or clarification on those days when I'd forgotten to modify their assignments.

I've just gone online at home, so Monday morning's assignment sheet will have a new feature: my home E-mail address. The next time Kate needs a writing extension, she can jot me an E-mail, and I'll zip back a response.

That's one more way I can let her know that I'm there and that I care.

A National Board certified teacher, Lynn Bonsey lives and teaches in Surry, Maine. When she's not chatting with her students, she can be reached at lbonsey@downeast.net.

Editor's Note

Not much has escaped the eyes of NEA member Eleanor Bralver in her over 40 years of teaching, but even though she's nearly 87, she still has her eyes fixed on the future, not the past.

Bralver may be the oldest NEA member still teaching. I spoke to her recently as we prepared this new millennium issue of NEA Today.

"I never thought about reaching the next millennium,'' Bralver admits, "but now that I'm so close, I'm excited about it. I've lived history from cobblestone streets and horse-drawn wagons to space travel. I'd like to stick around long enough to see the full impact of computers."

Bralver has never actually owned a computer. She still writes in neat crisp handwriting on lined sheets of paper.

Bralver started back in 1935, as an elementary school teacher in Detroit. After a 20-year hiatus from teaching, she returned to the classroom, but this time in California's San Fernando Valley, where's she's been a fixture in the health department of Sylmar High for the past 30 years.

"I've watched the complexion of my school change dramatically, both academically and ethnically,'' says Bralver."Condominiums have swallowed up most of the orange groves and horse ranches."

"Many neighborhoods have deteriorated and the area is now economically depressed," she notes. "There are gang pockets, and the gangs make sure we acknowledge their presence by plastering graffiti on as many open surfaces as they can."

Still, Bralver's spirit seems to win the day--every day.

"When I get up at 5, I'm ready for the school day," she says. "I relish the opportunity to teach.''

Is it harder to teach today than back in the 1930s?

"I think it's more difficult to teach today," answers Bralver, "but my passion for teaching is so strong that I don't think in terms of easy or hard."

--Bill Fischer