For the many years that I was a classroom teacher and the many more that I was not, I worked with children from the ages of five to fifteen. I crawled on all fours with five-year-olds trying to mimic the animals in the zoo, and I acted out the wonders of the infinite combinations of the human genetic code for fifteen-year-olds. I don’t particularly recall any of the five-year-olds complimenting me on my acting prowess, however, I have fond memories of my fifteen-year-old students, cheering and asking for encores.

Before I get lined up for any kind of accolades, let me confess about the flip side my confidence in public. Around my peers, I have always had the greatest inhibition of singing, acting, and all such pursuits. In familiar circles, I used to absolutely refuse to participate; in unfamiliar circles, I used to pretend that either I wasn’t there or that I was too busy.

In the spring of 2000, I joined West Chester University, Pennsylvania, to get certified in Elementary Education. In my first semester, I took only one course, but oh how I fell in love with that class! Each day I couldn’t wait to be back. The class had a magical power over me. Many months later I am trying to retrace what transpired and had such an overpowering effect on me. It was not just because we got to hear the most wonderful stories, and then we got to share ours. And it was not just because we got to act like washing machines and dryers, and elephants and hippos. And not just because we got to sing "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?" while tackling the theories of Maslow, Gardner, and Amabile, all in one week. No, it wasn’t just that. It was definitely not just because everyday the professor led us in song and dance, and the only choice we had was to follow her lead.

The class had a magical power over me because I was on the threshold of a journey; a journey I never had the courage to take before. It was in the way we interacted in the class and within the cooperative learning base groups. Each day and each activity was structured in a way that brought the class members into closer working relationships. I was awakening to a bond of interdependence my peers and I had. There was a clear-cut message: I had to participate in all of the above. I think I initially did it for my peers; I didn’t want to let them down. My group members helped me every step of the way. They would let me pick roles I was comfortable with. Then slowly, I started experiencing something of a transformation, a transformation that caught me by surprise. I began to lose my inhibitions. One day I even volunteered for the most daring role in the group. I remember the incredulous looks with which my base group members applauded.

Now, newly certified to teach, I am ready to create the same magic for my students. To the children who cannot hold a tune or throw a ball, to the children who cannot read with fluency or write with mastery, I want them to know it is all within reach. I am ready to pass on the message that, "Together we can and do achieve more."