A silver lining in my cloud

So, despite all the concern this week over my performance and what the administration thinks of me, I received an encouraging note from a parent that lifted my spirits a little. His daughter will be out 3 days next week, and the parent wrote on Tuesday requesting her make-up work for Mon – Weds. (Monday’s work? I didn’t even have the rest of this week planned out yet!) Anyhoo… the dad said that my class is his daughter’s favorite class (woohoo!), and he thanked me for capturing her interest. She is, seemingly, an incredibly engaged student, which is refreshing.

5^th period has been a bit more manageable this week, but I think it’s partly due to the fact that my room feels like a sauna in the morning, so by the end of the day, it’s miserable and the kids are too hot to misbehave too much. I’m really afraid that fuzzy things might start growing in there soon (too bad we’re not on the Fungi unit yet). The battle is now migrating toward 2^nd period. I sometimes feel as if I’m trying to balance an incredibly delicate object, and if I shift too far in any direction, the entire thing will topple, with no hopes of reassembly into any recognizable form. I know that’s probably a bit dramatic, but finding the right mixture of discipline/structure and student choice/expression is a tricky issue. It seems to change from day to day, class period to class period, student to student . . . and yet, some semblance of consistency must pervade the entire arena at all times. I can honestly say that my job is never boring or doesn’t challenge me.

Teaching is also a lot like acting, and not simply because you are always in front of an audience. There are days when I literally have to stuff my impatience and talk sweetly when I want to be sarcastic, and I feel completely fake. Then there was the day when I had to fight back tears during a parent conference, because no 13-year-old should have to face what this child has encountered thus far in her life. There are times when I wish I could use my teacher voice on a colleague and say, “Please stop talking,” so that I can use the Xerox machine or set up a demo before my next class. And there are times when I just want to run offstage and send out an understudy to finish my lesson for the day, but of course that’s not exactly an option. I am thankful for the times when I have felt completely alive as a teacher, and have known that my students are attentive & focused, not on me, but on learning and comprehending and analyzing and evaluating and all the other Blooms-y type verbs.

Tomorrow will be a long day. Our team of kids is coming back to school tomorrow night for games, pizza, & movies. As tired as I know I will be, I’m hopeful that the benefits of spending time w/our kids outside of class will have an immediate and positive effect inside the classroom. They really are amazing kids, and I hope they believe the truth of that statement by the end of the year if they haven’t realized it already. As hard as this job is, it’s humbling to think about the privilege of getting to know these kids for an entire year, watching them grow up and trying to help them along the way. As one of my colleagues told me, “By the end of the year, you’ll feel as if you’ve birthed 110 children.” Ouch. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at that one, but I imagine I’ll soon discover exactly what she meant.

Am I a terrible teacher already?

I know that Rome wasn't built in a day, and I can't mysteriously become an experienced teacher in just a few days. Every day is new, I tell myself, and full of new challenges, successes, and lessons. Friday was very disheartening to me, and I started to question why I am even trying to learn how to teach. I feel pretty good about most of my classes, except 5th period. From what I've heard so far, this is a common thread among all the new teachers at my school ~ and understandably so. Fifth period is immediately after lunch, the kids are rowdy, they're tired of being in school, I'm tired of being in school, any issues from the morning have escalated by this point in the day, and it's just plain hard.

Anyhoo, one of the APs stopped by my room on Friday and had heard I was having difficulty in one of my classes. He asked a few questions about the disruptive students, and gave a few tidbits about particular students for insight. He also said he would stop by my class (which he did today) to try to see what was happening.

I felt defeated already. I know this class is challenging, and I know I'm not alone in the 5th period battle. I feel like I'm doing the right things ~ talking to my team, rearranging schedules, separating "problem pairs" of students, contacting guidance when I notice issues between students, calling parents, modifiying seating charts, enlisting the help of my mentor teacher. However, somehow he still got a bad report about this class. Is it too loud? Are my students disrupting other classes? Does the front office listen in periodically & assess my classroom management style? Have parents complained? Did another teacher see me disciplining students in the hallway and report me to the AP? I know I'm far from perfect (and the first to admit my need for help) (at least in this area of my life), but I feel bad that administration is already "checking in" on me, since I know he didn't make similar visits to other ILT1s (who also struggle with their 5th periods).

I'm trying not to internalize it too much, but since I'm already super self-critical, it's hard. Maybe he really does just want to help, and make sure I feel supported so that I don't quit before Thanksgiving. Maybe he's concerned about the kids too, since he knows them all from last year and certainly doesn't want them to be starting this year off negatively. He did come to part of 5th today, and of course the kids were mildly well-mannered since he was in the room. I know I need help, so I suppose I should just be open & wait for his assessment.

But still, it makes me wonder. Am I that bad? Grrrrrrr.

Almost Friday

I'd forgotten how exhausting teaching is. I can always tell I'm tired / stressed when I stop eating. Food is almost a hobby to me ~I know I'm a food snob, and I get pretty excited about eating. So, when I forget to feed myself, something's up.

I'm enjoying teaching, for the most part, even though I am sleep-deprived and continually have a growing list of things to take care of. The hardest part, though, isn't the exhaustion or paperwork or rough kids. The hardest part for me has been seeing the kid who sits alone at lunch. Or reading the parent's detailed note about his daughter's horrible year last year. And seeing the kid who gets dropped off at school at 6am, only to wait outside until students are allowed in the building. (I suppose it's tolerable now, but what happens when it's 20 degrees outside?) Anyhoo...

I am never far from laughter in this job, which is hard, since I have a very low laughter threshold anyway (& have consequently been accused of drug use on more than one occasion), and laughter isn't always the best reaction for a teacher. I'm working on my "stone face" and am perfecting "the look." It worked on a couple of kids yesterday, so I must be doing something right. Some of the highlights so far:

• The butterfly that got caught in the classroom one afternoon. I've never heard such ridiculous comments. "Get it out! I'm afraid of butterflies!" (Come ON. That's like being afraid of a bunny rabbit or chocolate milk, isn't it?) And then, after trying to catch the poor thing, "Don't kill it! It's pretty! Is it okay?"
  
• Kids' apparel. In high school, it was shocking. In middle school, it's just plain funny. T-shirts that boast comments like, "Brightest blonde in the bunch," and "Mind closed until further notice." I absolutely adore my student who, to date, has worn a different classic rock T-shirt every day - from The Stones to The Ramones. Cute.
• Classroom incidents. I've already had to test out the eyewash station on one kid. I assumed once he saw the gushing streams of water, he'd decide he didn't really need to rinse his eyes out, but no... he plunged his entire head into the eyewash fountains. I had to turn around so he wouldn't see me laughing. How am I supposed to teach these kids acid & base chemistry when they can't even use hand sanitizer without endangering each other?! I'll cross that bridge when I get there, I suppose.

Enough for now. I'm off to morning duties, which consists of monitoring 400 8th graders in a miniscule lobby. I love starting the day with an instant headache.