One of
the most enjoyable and passionate parts of my life outside of school
is hockey. Though I have never, and probably will never, consider
myself a great hockey player, I still maintain a love for the sport.
Having been raised in a French-Canadian household, hockey was
integrated into my life at a very early age. As any French-Canadian
will tell you, hockey is the greatest sport in the entire world to be
played on ice. Looking back on past and present professional hockey
stars, names like Lemioux, Giroux, Brodeur, and St. Louis illustrate
the French heritage throughout the sport.
My
father played hockey in a men's league in the 1980's and early 90's,
and passed his love of skating down to my brother and I. When we were
very young, he built a skating rink in the back yard using logs and a
heavy-duty plastic sheet. He would hold my hands and skate backwards
while I struggled to find my footing on the slippery surface wearing
insanely uncomfortable skates.
Once I
was old enough, I was signed up for the local Pee-Wee hockey league.
It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life: the loud,
harsh noises of hard rubber pucks cracking against the rink boards;
the big kids gliding powerfully across the ice and stopping short,
kicking up a puff of ice shavings; the coaches' whistles and shouts;
and horrifying monster of a Zamboni just waiting to lurch onto the
rink and run me over- these were all the things that scared me away
from the sport. It wasn't until I was much older that I discovered
the appreciation and passion for hockey my father was trying to pass
down.
One
particular group of friends from high school had all maintained an
almost religious following of professional hockey; in particular, the
Boston Bruins. Falling in with that group, I started to adopt their
practices of watching every game, learning all the players' names and
numbers, and picking up the jargon. As with any sport or activity,
there is a unique vocabulary used within that world. “Hockey
Literacy” does not seem complex to me today, but learning took
significant patience and frequent questions. Watching on TV, or
occasionally making the trip to the Dunkin' Donuts Center or the TD
Garden, I was able to pick up on some of the key terms. My friends
were able to help me sort out the nuances of the sport, such as what
the “forecheck” is, and which players are considered “goons,”
“snipers,” or “two-way forwards.”
Along
the way to mastering the literacy practices of hockey I started
skating again. Having not skated since early childhood, I was more
than a little outpaced by my peers. They were skating backwards
faster than I could skate forwards and snapping in top-shelf wrist
shots while I was whacking away at the puck with an old hockey stick.
Still, being on the ice, whether outside on the choppy surface of a
frozen pond or inside on a well-manicured rink, is a wonderful
feeling. I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be the
next great hockey sensation, but it is still a blast to go out there,
make a fool of myself, and occasionally get a shot on goal.
Every
social and professional world has its own literacy practices rife
with jargon and technical terms; and to your average layperson, the
perceived complexity of these practices is enough to discourage an
attempt to learn them. People who do not understand the language of a
particular world can often be reluctant to enter it. I find that
bringing those on the outside in gradually helps them more
comfortably adapt to new conditions, terms, etc. My girlfriend, for
instance, was perhaps a little overwhelmed when the Bruins found
themselves in the playoffs last year. With the advent of playoff
hockey, that part of my life came into focus for her. Every game was
crucial. Every game was intense. I was perhaps a little too swept up
in the fervor of the moment to take adequate time to acclimate her to
the sport and its literacies. It was something I had been interested
in for years, and she was just watching her first hockey games.
I think
that too often, teachers experience a similar disconnect with
students, who like my girlfriend and her initial introduction to
hockey, have little to no knowledge of new subjects. A teacher who
has been studying a field for years must always acknowledge the fact
that not everyone understands something as well as he or she does.
Taking the time to gradually acclimate your students to new material
and literacies increases the likelihood that they will be able to
appreciate and comprehend material in the future... instead of
sitting in a crowded bar, sipping a beer that you really didn't want,
and getting startled every time your boyfriend's team scores and he
and his friends all jump up and scream.
I have
since taken the time to teach my girlfriend about hockey, and she has
been more than gracious in accepting my efforts. Her questions are
now fewer and farther in between, and she can tell anybody what a
“power play” means and who Zdeno Chara is. I don't expect her to
start hip-checking people, ripping slap shots from the blue line, or
painting her face black and gold and yelling “Go B's!,” but she
at least has a framework for understanding the events that unfold on
the television, and thus a greater appreciation. Introducing my
girlfriend to hockey has helped me learn more about becoming a
teacher, and also about relationships.
