Barb Van Ersvelde, Doctor of Humanities

About Barb Van Ersvelde

In her 31½ years of teaching music in the Grinnell-Newburg school district, Barb Van Ersvelde has consistently instilled in her students the idea that they are capable of far more than they realize.

From the moment that elementary school students enter her classroom, they know they are appreciated. Over summer break, “Mrs. V.” closely studies student yearbooks so she can greet every student by name on the very first day. She creates a welcoming classroom that encourages even reluctant students to take risks and share their ideas in front of others.

Instead of spoon-feeding information to her students, she uses games and activities to help students see how much they already know, while pushing them to build on that knowledge. Van Ersvelde challenges her students to perform at their highest levels at the annual musicals that she leads. She hand-selects parts for every student that allow them to play to their strengths in singing, dancing, and speaking roles.

Outside of this work, Van Ersvelde has worked closely with Grinnell College students and faculty to implement the Lunchtime Language Learners program for third- and fourthgrade students.

The program, which won a $10,000 grant from the College’s Spark Tank Innovation Challenge, teaches the basics of Spanish and French to small groups of interested students. The six-week program is designed to ignite young students’ enthusiasm for other languages. Van Ersvelde has been instrumental in training Grinnell coordinators to develop lessons that are memorable and engaging for this age group.

In all of her work, Van Ersvelde seeks to find ways for students to stretch themselves musically, scholastically, and personally. She works to build within them a reservoir of confidence they can tap whenever they face challenging obstacles.

Acceptance Speech

Transcript

Cheerios, Beethoven, photography.

I love that in the field of education, three seemingly unrelated elements can come together to form a powerful learning experience for students. Recently, my fourth grade music students arranged Cheerios on a staff to notate the famous melody from Beethoven's ninth Symphony. Then they took photos of their work before playing the melody, and, well, eating them. I admit a little concern when I considered my students' conversations around their dinner tables that evening. I could just picture a parent asking, "What did you learn at school today?" and my student answering, "Beethoven is crunchy."

The dinner table is where so many of my own learning experiences occurred growing up. You might not think that learning Latin over supper sounds like a blast, but here's how it would work. Bite of meatloaf, forkful of carrots, swallow of milk. Then my father's voice. "The word muscle comes from the Latin word musculus, which means little mouse. Have you noticed that when you flex and relax your arm muscles, it almost looks as though a little mouse is running along inside your arm?" This, followed by lots of arm flexing, oooh-ing and aah-ing, and "That's disgusting"-ing, in between more bites of meatloaf.

As was the case for perhaps most of you, my first teachers were my parents. Now Dad didn't limit himself to teaching us Latin roots. My sisters and I were delighted when he helped us to master an entire sentence in German. We were convinced of this phrase's monumental importance as we recited over and over, "Sie finden uns am schnellsten auf den gelben Seiten." When one of us finally thought to ask Dad what the sentence meant, he replied, "You'll find us fastest in the Yellow Pages." He had seen that on a sign on the door of a business and thought it sounded fun.

From my mother, I've learned different lessons. The art of multi-tasking, for instance, before that term was ever coined. And mom taught us, our family, about remaining calm under pressure. I remember a time when several of us were working in the kitchen. I became aware of my mother moving from the stove toward the sink, carrying a potholder in flames. As she approached the sink where my dad was standing, in the same tone of voice one might use to comment on the weather, Mom said, "Excuse me, dear, this is on fire." The lesson, remain calm and polite under pressure.

Considering my Latin and German learning experiences as a child, it's not surprising that the nomination which resulted in my being honored today had a language connection. It has been my privilege during these past two academic years to work with three members of your class of 2017, Liz Nelson, John Gallagher and Christine Hood, on a foreign language program for Grinnell's third and fourth grade students.

27 Grinnell College students have poured time, effort and boundless enthusiasm into making Spanish and French accessible to our students at Davis Elementary, and I am incredibly grateful, as I am overwhelmingly humbled, to stand in front of you as a representative of the teaching profession. I thank you sincerely for this honor.

Now many of you graduates will not enter the field of education professionally, but each of you has so much to teach others. I challenge you, please, share your knowledge, communicate your ideas, show your skills. Go ahead, teach someone, which I think would make a very fine t-shirt. Yes, I thought about tossing the shirt out into the crowd, but as my husband and son can affirm, it would be as likely to land on President Kington's head as it would be to land in one of your laps. I'll just keep it here with me.

Let me finish by sharing a few examples of what makes teaching a worthy pursuit and an absolute joy in my life.

When a third-grader raises his hand to exclaim, "Hey, both of those measures have four beats because two half-notes add up to the same as four quarter notes," it's a good day.

When I hear seven consecutive correct notes on a soprano recorder [plays part of Mary had a little lamb] ... It's a good day.

When a fourth-grader who has seen me model kind behavior stops on her way to recess to help a boy whose pencil box has just exploded all over the floor, it's a good day.

When a student interrupts my class to offer me a birthday cupcake, it's a good day. And that's not about the cupcake, it's about the positive connection I've made with that student that makes them think of celebrating with me even though I'm "just a music teacher."

Okay, if it's chocolate, it's sort of about the cupcake too.

In your chosen field, the measure of a good day might be significantly different from those I've just described.

Whatever your measures, it is my hope that you will indeed have a good day.