My adventures as a substitute
teacher mean I find myself visiting many different schools and spending my days
slipping into someone’s personal space for eight hours at a time. I can’t help
but notice the different atmospheres teachers create within their cinderblock
walls.
When I taught, my classroom became
an extension of my personal taste. I usually had a corner designated for
reading. For many years, a small couch with a pole lamp squatted in one area
next to bookcases loaded with my favorites. Atop these shelves I’d place
philodendrons in jugs of water, pictures of my son and pets, and sometimes
fresh cut flowers to brighten the room. I always loaded a huge wicker laundry
hamper with an assortment of pillows for Pillow Days. If my classes behaved, on
Pillow Days, the students could grab their favorite cushion from the pile,
retreat under desks, to the couch, or to a private place in the room, and read
or write without the constraints of iron-hard chairs and desks. Whether I
taught seniors or seventh graders, having days to stretch out with a pillow and
a pencil or book became a special treat. Some days, I’d add to the atmosphere
by having a “fireplace” by putting orange paper over the overhead projector to
cast a warm glow into the room.
As a substitute, I’ve learned that
not all teachers spend as much time or energy on their classrooms as I did, and
I have definitely noted the difference between male and female teachers. If I
enter a man’s classroom, I find very little personal items on display. Some may
have a photograph or two back by their desks, tucked in next to their
computers, of their wives, children or pets. Some may even hang their diplomas
along one wall. However, the classroom décor ends there. The posters, if any
are on the walls, demonstrate functionality—equations or formulas, copies of
historical documents, or a list of literary terms and definitions. My recent
encounters with these male educators still have more in their rooms than my
first department chair. His sparse room contained absolutely no posters except
for a leggy pose of Jennifer Beals from Flashdance.
Women educators utilize their
classrooms as an extension of their personal taste. Instead of one or two
personal pictures tucked discretely on a corner of their desks, they plaster
photographs down entire file cabinets—attached to the metal furniture with frog
magnets (or flowers, pigs, roadrunners, shoes—whatever fancy catches the
woman’s attention and displays her passions). Personal furniture crams into the
room, too. Women teachers tend to have bookcases and brightly painted hutches
along a wall. Their cinderblock barely peaks out from behind a multitude of
posters—some professionally printed, others work from current or past students.
Nick-knacks clutter these women’s desktops and spill onto any open surface.
Tape dispensers, staplers, little storage boxes—all color or theme coordinated!
I doubt decorating a classroom
impacts student learning directly. Studies probably show little correlation
between the posters displayed in a room (or lack thereof) and student performance.
However, I believe that the more “at home” a teacher feels within his or her
space, the more that educator will enjoy the time spent in the classroom.
Whether the utilitarian and uncluttered, streamline masculine décor or the
colorful embellishments of the feminine influence, if an educator’s classroom
becomes an extension of personality, everyone benefits.
Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
