On Teaching: "Detachment"

Today I thoroughly enjoyed my classes, and a partial cause for this was the sense of detachment I had as I went through my lessons. As usual, I had planned the lessons very carefully, but oddly enough, I didn't seem to mind when things slowed down a bit during class. Kids had unexpected questions, and a new task arose that I had forgotten to plan for, but it didn't bother me. I just sat back and sort of observed the activities instead of trying to control them. It gave me a strange feeling of tranquility -- as if I was a witness to a fascinating show, and all I had to do was relax and enjoy it. Somehow I knew that all the important things I planned would get done, one way or the other. I felt, in a way, like some force much bigger than me was at work in my classroom, and I just needed to step out of the way and let it work. I don't mean to suggest that there was chaos in my room, or that nothing substantial was accomplished. Quite to the contrary, my detailed lesson plans were covered almost from A to Z, and the students, I think, felt like we had accomplished a great deal by the end of class. Surprisingly, by giving up my tendency to want to compulsively control every aspect of my classes, the classes actually become more controlled and orderly than ever. By detaching myself -- removing myself to a distance where I could watch, accept, and appreciate what was happening -- I found, paradoxically, that I was an integral part of some of the best classes I've ever experienced.