Personal Stamp
By Allen A. Raymond, Publisher

For me, lights in a bedroom are not all that unusual because, as a little kid, my bedroom was always filled with tiny lights.

Some of the lights came from the windows of the passenger cars of my HO-gauge train as the puffing locomotive pulled the cars around the bedroom floor.

That train would wind its way through a small town, disappear into a tunnel, cross a bridge and, with a wonderful locomotive whistle, momentarily stop at a passenger station.

During the train's travels red and green lights flashed as crossing gates went up and down, while lights in the station, and in homes and stores, twinkled on and off.

But those weren't the only lights in my bedroom. Using a spare train transformer, I festooned the walls, doors and behind the radiator with Christmas tree lights. Then, lying in bed, I could control their brightness with the aid of a series of rheostats (today we'd call them dimmers).

Sometimes I'd turn the lights down low, and the atmosphere in my bedroom became mysterious and scary – especially when I turned on the red lights behind the radiator, which gave off an eerie glow.

Often, to make the room even more conspiratorial, I'd hook up a light – sort of a spotlight – which shone on a picture or gleamed from under the bed. As fantasy took over, I sometimes imagined bank robbers escaping by train while the city slept.

It was a wonderful make-believe world, conveying a mystical image that, to a little kid, was very exciting. Many mornings, when I awoke, the lights would be on and the train would still be making its rounds.

If I were a teacher today, I'd probably have an electric train running along a shelf installed on all four walls of the classroom, about a foot below the ceiling.

And, like so many of your classrooms, stuff would hang from the ceiling in my classroom, too...maybe spotlights or something electronically fascinating which I could manipulate with a remote control device. As icing on the cake, perhaps there would even be speakers so I could turn the classroom into a hi-fidelity audio center.

Also – and this is getting far-out, I know – it would be nice to have a high-tech weather station in the room, and of course the latest computers, plus maybe one of those electronic whiteboards I've observed at teacher conventions.

Finally, I'd indulge myself, and the kids, with all kinds of educational software, plus lots of electronic educational games (Jeopardy! comes to mind).

Obviously, my classroom would be a little "different," but I'd also hope it would be as exciting and different as Mr. Tracy Tuthill's math classroom I enjoyed so much back in the early 1940's at Buffalo's Nichols School. More than 50 years later I can still remember that magical room.

His classroom was indeed "different," with his personal stamp in evidence all over the room – from the homemade cloth acoustical panels hanging from the ceiling to the fascinating math challenges scattered throughout the room. He was a nice man, a powerful teacher who, with his enthusiasm, made math lovers of us all.

I am confident, because I've visited many of your classrooms, that 25 (or 50) years hence former students of yours will – fondly and proudly – remember your enthusiasm...and your classroom. Quite a legacy.

Allen Raymond is the Editor/Publisher for Teaching Pre K-8.

October 2003, Vol.34, No.2