Use What Works For You

Sometimes the most important lessons aren’t part of a teacher’s lesson plan.

When I was in 8th grade, I had an earth science class. My now-late grandpa was an earth science teacher back in the day, and his love for the subject is somewhere in my DNA as well. I find it interesting.

Anyway, the earth science class was taught by a middle-aged man named Mr. Twait. He was a cancer survivor, so he was bald. He wore glasses. He spoke in a soft, slightly grizzled voice and was monotone when he spoke. A slight aside: I remember two years prior when my school overhauled their classroom technology to ceiling-mounted digital projectors. Mr. Twait - two years after the tech overhaul - continued to use his carousel slide projector from what seemed to be about the 1770’s.

Not many students - 8th graders, remember - cared for Mr. Twait.

I, on the other hand, didn’t mind him one bit. You could even say I liked him and being in his class. Mr. Twait reminded me of my grandpa, so of course I liked him. But I also liked the content of the class: the experiments we did, the information we learned, his gentle nature and his kindness.

He was old school. Not in the way of switching kids who misbehave. No, old school in his presentation. He was so incredibly far from being concerned about the latest trends, be it in pop culture or fashion or technology - especially technology. As musty dusty and stuffy as it was, there was some charm to his using an older-than-the-hills slide projector.

During that year, I had told my grandpa about Mr. Twait and what I was learning. At some point in the year, my grandparents were visiting us for a portion of the week. They came with my parents to pick me up from school and I was able to give them a little tour of the building. I made sure to bring them to Mr. Twait’s room. He was still there, so he and my grandpa were able to meet and chat about earth science. It was a cool moment for 8th grade Jacob.

Sometime in 2021, I learned of Mr. Twait’s passing a few years prior. I was sad to see that, but I was also reminded of how much I enjoyed being in his class. Hindsight and a more developed brain gave me a new perspective, too: it probably meant something to him that I just genuinely enjoyed his class and didn’t mind his old school persona.

Just last night, I was talking about Mr. Twait to my partner, with the same descriptions as are in this entry. I told her about the carousel slide projector - she laughed. Not to be mean, but because no one… does that. You just plain don’t see many teachers - or anyone for that matter - using slide projectors. I mean, I was in his class in 2008, and it was outlandish (and outdated) then. Fast-forward to 2023 and just… no.

My partner and I laughed for a few moments and agreed at how cool it was that Mr. Twait preferred to use his old slides in his old projector. And I said, “Well, it’s what worked for him.”

A lightbulb lit up instantly for me.

“It’s what worked for him.”

Mr. Twait had access to new, shiny, faster, and arguably better technology. But he chose to use his carousel projector.

It’s what worked for him.

In that lightning-fast “aha!” moment, I was made aware of an important lesson: there will always be new, shiny, faster, and arguably better ways of doing things, but they might not work for me and the way I do things.

This year, one of my big focuses has been to discover and define my own processes. Mostly for my creative work, but certainly for areas in my personal and day-to-day life. It’s been a big success so far. The “aha!” moment is affirming the work I continue to do within myself.

Mr. Twait, I’m certain that your using a carousel projector was never much more than that. You probably never intended for any lesson of any kind to be gleaned from it. But 15 years later, by mere chance, you not only clued me in to an important lesson - you have given me affirmation by example. You’ve reminded me that I’m allowed to embrace my own methods and tread my own path, without shame or remorse.

Thank you for teaching me.