Add this to the list of things to never say to a class of 8th graders:
"All right! Who's banging the mouse?"
It didn't even cross my mind...but it sure crossed theirs! Seriously, somebody would not stop banging the mouse (from the computer) on the computer table. Very annoying. Can I help it that the above statement has another meaning in our vernacular?
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Still Here, Still Kickin', Still Cyclin'
Whew! It's been 20 days since my last post, and an attempt to bring you up to speed on the ups and downs of the past three weeks would probably make you think that I am either mentally unstable. Heck, sometimes I think I'm mentally unstable!
Actually, there have been some very up "ups" and some very low "downs", but it all comes with the territory; the territory of being a first year teacher and a mom who is working full-time for the first time in 6 years - and getting an average of 6 hours of sleep each night. There have been a lot of tears on my part (which tend to come on at the height of exhaustion), but there have also been some wonderful highs - those moments where the reason I chose this profession becomes so clear to me. And sometimes, amidst all of the feelings of incompetency, I get a momentary sense that I am actually TEACHING.
Throughout all of this, I have continued to cycle, albeit intermittently. I do hate that I go 1-2 weeks between rides since school started, but the pinnacle of my cycling hobby to date was two weeks ago. That is when my sister Heather, our sister/friend Beth and I all rode in the Good Sam Bike Jam - a 45 mile charity ride around the Boulder/Lafayette area. Wow! I don't know if words can do justice to the experience. We started off just as the sun was climbing into the sky and turning from purple to pink. There was a very heavy fog, and the rolling foothills, dotted with cows and goats and so much beauty that reminds me of home (except there are mountains - instead of bluffs!). As we began I couldn't stop commenting on just how beautiful it was. The air actually tasted sweet from the fog and the fields ready for harvest. I so enjoyed it, that I almost didn't mind the first monster hill that we had to climb. Actually, I didn't really mind the hill at all, until I got to the top of it and realized that there was yet another hill beyond it. And yes, at the top of that 2nd hill I discovered that there was yet one more hill to crest. I made it without having to stop, but only barely.
The four hours of riding were a great time to catch up with my girls. We sang a few show tunes, and even practiced a fun group cycling maneuver that Beth taught us. That is, until we saw the next big hill - at which point I believe Beth screamed out, "Okay every man for himself!" and we quickly dispersed to pedal as hard and as fast as our little hineys could. I'm going to tell you right now that riding 45 miles is every bit as hard as I imagined it would be. I actually had a fear that I would throw up (the Kirby girls kind of have a legacy of throwing up during intense work-outs), but I didn't do that. There was one point (the second of 3 hills that really were noteworthy) where I actually would have gotten off of my bike and just walked, but I couldn't get my darn foot unclipped from my pedal!
As difficult as a 45 mile ride is, it is nothing for someone who is using the proper equipment (I was, thanks to the sponsorship of my sister, who has loaned me an entire setup). Poor Beth did not have her own bike on hand for the ride - it was still in Texas, where she had shipped it for her 100 MILE RIDE. She was so supportive of me doing my first ride, and so wanted to have that girl-time, that she borrowed my brother-in-law's ginormous mountain bike with gargantuan tires. This bike was not only large, but had possibly the world's hardest seat. I think it was actually made out of concrete. Beth rode 45 miles on that jumbo yellow bike - which we lovingly dubbed "The Yellow Sub". She is the only person I know who is not only tough enough to do it, but who can simultaneously ride like that and giggle for most of the way. One of the funniest moments was when Heather and I were synchronizing our odometers:
"I've got 22.1 miles!" Heather called out.
"I've got 23.3!" I called back
"I've got 6 leagues!" Beth chimed in as she blazed past us on her huge yellow contraption.
Yes, we had a great time. We laughed. I cried (I know. You're shocked). I did not throw up. I did not have to walk my bike. I did feel one of the greatest senses of accomplishment that I have ever felt. I am now officially addicted. I can't wait to do another big ride. Now, when I'm having the kind of day where I feel like I might not be up to the challenge of my job, I just think back to what I did two weeks ago. I will carry that feeling with me for a very long time.
You want to know my favorite part? That was when Beth, who was herself dying from such a long ride on such ill-fitting equipment, blazed past us and disappeared during the last 2 miles of the ride. Completing the ride with my sister, who had patiently and lovingly coaxed me up the last massive hill as I thought I couldn't go any further, was a joy. But, riding side-by-side past our lifelong friend, who had raced us to the end to stand there and cheer for us was...priceless.
"Yeah Kirby girls! Kirby girls rock!"
I love being a Kirby girl. I love feeling like I did something tough. I love that I did it with two people I love so much.
Actually, there have been some very up "ups" and some very low "downs", but it all comes with the territory; the territory of being a first year teacher and a mom who is working full-time for the first time in 6 years - and getting an average of 6 hours of sleep each night. There have been a lot of tears on my part (which tend to come on at the height of exhaustion), but there have also been some wonderful highs - those moments where the reason I chose this profession becomes so clear to me. And sometimes, amidst all of the feelings of incompetency, I get a momentary sense that I am actually TEACHING.
Throughout all of this, I have continued to cycle, albeit intermittently. I do hate that I go 1-2 weeks between rides since school started, but the pinnacle of my cycling hobby to date was two weeks ago. That is when my sister Heather, our sister/friend Beth and I all rode in the Good Sam Bike Jam - a 45 mile charity ride around the Boulder/Lafayette area. Wow! I don't know if words can do justice to the experience. We started off just as the sun was climbing into the sky and turning from purple to pink. There was a very heavy fog, and the rolling foothills, dotted with cows and goats and so much beauty that reminds me of home (except there are mountains - instead of bluffs!). As we began I couldn't stop commenting on just how beautiful it was. The air actually tasted sweet from the fog and the fields ready for harvest. I so enjoyed it, that I almost didn't mind the first monster hill that we had to climb. Actually, I didn't really mind the hill at all, until I got to the top of it and realized that there was yet another hill beyond it. And yes, at the top of that 2nd hill I discovered that there was yet one more hill to crest. I made it without having to stop, but only barely.
The four hours of riding were a great time to catch up with my girls. We sang a few show tunes, and even practiced a fun group cycling maneuver that Beth taught us. That is, until we saw the next big hill - at which point I believe Beth screamed out, "Okay every man for himself!" and we quickly dispersed to pedal as hard and as fast as our little hineys could. I'm going to tell you right now that riding 45 miles is every bit as hard as I imagined it would be. I actually had a fear that I would throw up (the Kirby girls kind of have a legacy of throwing up during intense work-outs), but I didn't do that. There was one point (the second of 3 hills that really were noteworthy) where I actually would have gotten off of my bike and just walked, but I couldn't get my darn foot unclipped from my pedal!
As difficult as a 45 mile ride is, it is nothing for someone who is using the proper equipment (I was, thanks to the sponsorship of my sister, who has loaned me an entire setup). Poor Beth did not have her own bike on hand for the ride - it was still in Texas, where she had shipped it for her 100 MILE RIDE. She was so supportive of me doing my first ride, and so wanted to have that girl-time, that she borrowed my brother-in-law's ginormous mountain bike with gargantuan tires. This bike was not only large, but had possibly the world's hardest seat. I think it was actually made out of concrete. Beth rode 45 miles on that jumbo yellow bike - which we lovingly dubbed "The Yellow Sub". She is the only person I know who is not only tough enough to do it, but who can simultaneously ride like that and giggle for most of the way. One of the funniest moments was when Heather and I were synchronizing our odometers:
"I've got 22.1 miles!" Heather called out.
"I've got 23.3!" I called back
"I've got 6 leagues!" Beth chimed in as she blazed past us on her huge yellow contraption.
Yes, we had a great time. We laughed. I cried (I know. You're shocked). I did not throw up. I did not have to walk my bike. I did feel one of the greatest senses of accomplishment that I have ever felt. I am now officially addicted. I can't wait to do another big ride. Now, when I'm having the kind of day where I feel like I might not be up to the challenge of my job, I just think back to what I did two weeks ago. I will carry that feeling with me for a very long time.
You want to know my favorite part? That was when Beth, who was herself dying from such a long ride on such ill-fitting equipment, blazed past us and disappeared during the last 2 miles of the ride. Completing the ride with my sister, who had patiently and lovingly coaxed me up the last massive hill as I thought I couldn't go any further, was a joy. But, riding side-by-side past our lifelong friend, who had raced us to the end to stand there and cheer for us was...priceless.
"Yeah Kirby girls! Kirby girls rock!"
I love being a Kirby girl. I love feeling like I did something tough. I love that I did it with two people I love so much.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
A New World Opens Up
It's interesting that I've officially been a teacher for the past week and a half, and yet I haven't even seen my kids yet. People ask me how my job is going, but I haven't really gotten to do my job yet. Last week was spent in New Teacher Orientation for the district. I must say it was a very thoughtful, well put-together training. I met some wonderful people and it got me focused on the year ahead.
On Monday I reported to my school, where I met the staff and we spent most of the day in professional development. Since then, there's been time to prepare (not nearly as much as I had hoped for!) and more professional development. Each step of the way - through last week and this week - my decision to work in this district, in this particular job, was validated. I know in my heart of hearts that I am in the right place.
As I type this entry, it is now Sunday. My exhaustion, combined with our busy-ness has kept me from being able to sit down write, let alone gather the thoughts I would want to express.
My first two days of school were a whirlwind. They were exhausting, exhilarating, emotional...you name it. All I know is that for the whole three years I was in school, people tried to prepare me for what it's like to be a first year teacher. I went in expecting stress and exhaustion. However, it's about 3 times harder than I expected. I've decided that in order to survive it, I need to look at it as a sort of boot camp. I imagine that going to boot camp is completely overwhelming for some people; it's a complete change to one's life. I too am feeling like my whole life has changed, and the newness of my job has completely assaulted all of my senses. I think the one thing that is making it even harder for me is that I still am not getting good sleep, and anybody who knows me knows that I simply cannot function when I'm tired. And for me to not be tired, I need to regularly get 8 hours of sleep. Gavin, in making sure that he gets his quality time in with Mom and Dad, has resorted to middle-of-the-night parties. Knowing that this is just temporary, and too exhausted to combat it, Husband and I have instead chosen survival tactics: taking turns getting up, trying to let him cry it out, and even bringing him in to bed in the early morning hours from time to time. Suffice it to say that it's a very ironic situation in that those survival tactics probably just leave us more tired than we were to begin!
Realizing just what a busy, overwhelming time it is going to be as I adjust to my new job, I have decided to put off finishing my master's. This is a really hard decision for me, but one that I'm proud of. Being a bit of a perfectionist (just a bit), it's hard for me to change course sometimes. In my mind I had planned to finish my final class this semester and be done by Christmas break. There's a part of me that worries that I'll never finish this last class (and that is probably what Husband is thinking to himself - and I don't blame him). I have to remember why I went back to school in the first place, and that is to be a teacher. Right now I need to turn my focus to that, and in delaying the completion of my master's, I will hopefully still be a strong presence for my family.
All in all, despite the rough start (I haven't even gone into the challenging behaviors I endured in one of my classes!), I know that I have chosen the right profession. I feel it in my heart; just like I know in my heart that I chose the right job, the right school district. The people I work with have been amazing in helping me transition, and I'm grateful that I haven't experienced the "cliquey-ness" (made up word) that I've seen among staff in some of the schools I've been in. The people I am now working with are a real bright spot in a new and challenging time in my life. Of course, the kids are too - and that's what it's all about.
On Monday I reported to my school, where I met the staff and we spent most of the day in professional development. Since then, there's been time to prepare (not nearly as much as I had hoped for!) and more professional development. Each step of the way - through last week and this week - my decision to work in this district, in this particular job, was validated. I know in my heart of hearts that I am in the right place.
As I type this entry, it is now Sunday. My exhaustion, combined with our busy-ness has kept me from being able to sit down write, let alone gather the thoughts I would want to express.
My first two days of school were a whirlwind. They were exhausting, exhilarating, emotional...you name it. All I know is that for the whole three years I was in school, people tried to prepare me for what it's like to be a first year teacher. I went in expecting stress and exhaustion. However, it's about 3 times harder than I expected. I've decided that in order to survive it, I need to look at it as a sort of boot camp. I imagine that going to boot camp is completely overwhelming for some people; it's a complete change to one's life. I too am feeling like my whole life has changed, and the newness of my job has completely assaulted all of my senses. I think the one thing that is making it even harder for me is that I still am not getting good sleep, and anybody who knows me knows that I simply cannot function when I'm tired. And for me to not be tired, I need to regularly get 8 hours of sleep. Gavin, in making sure that he gets his quality time in with Mom and Dad, has resorted to middle-of-the-night parties. Knowing that this is just temporary, and too exhausted to combat it, Husband and I have instead chosen survival tactics: taking turns getting up, trying to let him cry it out, and even bringing him in to bed in the early morning hours from time to time. Suffice it to say that it's a very ironic situation in that those survival tactics probably just leave us more tired than we were to begin!
Realizing just what a busy, overwhelming time it is going to be as I adjust to my new job, I have decided to put off finishing my master's. This is a really hard decision for me, but one that I'm proud of. Being a bit of a perfectionist (just a bit), it's hard for me to change course sometimes. In my mind I had planned to finish my final class this semester and be done by Christmas break. There's a part of me that worries that I'll never finish this last class (and that is probably what Husband is thinking to himself - and I don't blame him). I have to remember why I went back to school in the first place, and that is to be a teacher. Right now I need to turn my focus to that, and in delaying the completion of my master's, I will hopefully still be a strong presence for my family.
All in all, despite the rough start (I haven't even gone into the challenging behaviors I endured in one of my classes!), I know that I have chosen the right profession. I feel it in my heart; just like I know in my heart that I chose the right job, the right school district. The people I work with have been amazing in helping me transition, and I'm grateful that I haven't experienced the "cliquey-ness" (made up word) that I've seen among staff in some of the schools I've been in. The people I am now working with are a real bright spot in a new and challenging time in my life. Of course, the kids are too - and that's what it's all about.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
My New Endeavor
There is something I've been neglecting to mention for the past couple of months. It's a pretty big something (to me), and no - I'm not pregnant! Actually, I'm going back to work...temporarily...tomorrow.
A couple of months ago Husband and I agreed about the need for a second income in our household sooner rather than later. It was hard for me to even comprehend going back to work. At that point, Gavin was about 6 weeks old. I began to pray for the perfect long-term sub (teaching) position to open up. It would have to be just the right job. My requirements seemed wishful, at best and unrealistic, at worst. I would need a job that wouldn't start until Gavin was at least 3 months old, I would need to find one that was close by, I only wanted to do special ed and last of all, I would need to convince my aunt to watch Gavin along with Ollie (who she's been watching for the past two years). Let's face it - that's a tall order. Without telling Stephen about my idea, I put out two probes - one with a former professor and one with my sister. Within three days, a teacher that works with Megan told her she would love to have me fill in for her when she goes on her maternity leave. The situation was (is) perfect. I will be working as a K-8 math interventionist at Megan's school, actually sharing a classroom with her! As it turns out, my aunt was wonderful about watching Gavin and instantly agreed to it. Everything fell together perfectly within a matter of a couple of days. The best part of all of it was doing this secretly and then surprising Husband once it was all set up and official.
So, a month and a half - or was it two months? - has passed faster than I can even believe. Here I am now, getting ready for tomorrow. I am nervous, sad, excited, sad, excited, sad...it just depends on when you talk to me. Gavin and I have really settled into a little routine - and I've gotten so dang attached to the little guy! Actually, I've flat out fallen head over heels for him. My heart hurts when I think about being away from him every day for the next two months. It's a smothering kind of feeling, but not one I haven't felt before. I remember when I had to go back to work when Kirby was just 8 weeks old. I cried all the way from the daycare, where I dropped him off on the first day, to work. I wonder how I'll be tomorrow?
I know I'm not special, just another mom who's got to go to work. And, I don't mind it too much, especially when I know how much it will help. I had planned to go back to work this coming fall after all, so this is only a few months early. There are quite a few pluses to this gig, not the least of which is getting my foot in the door with this school district, in the hopes of getting hired in the fall. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how grim the job scene is right now - even for special ed teachers.
The hardest part for me in all of this has been the handful of comments that I've received to the tune of "Gosh, that sounds like a good opportunity...I can't believe you're ready to leave Gavin and go back to work!". As if this is a career move for me. Here's the deal, it's not a career move. However, since I do need to go to work, I am thankful and feel incredibly blessed to have such a great opportunity fall into my lap. And, if I'm going to start a career, I'm even further blessed to have found a field that I am passionate about. I am bound and determined to enjoy this next two months and to soak up all the knowledge I can glean from the teachers I'll be working with. Obviously, I'm most excited about my favorite teacher I'll be working with...Mrs. Moran. Please, say a little prayer for me tomorrow. I'll be the one with a lump in her throat.
A couple of months ago Husband and I agreed about the need for a second income in our household sooner rather than later. It was hard for me to even comprehend going back to work. At that point, Gavin was about 6 weeks old. I began to pray for the perfect long-term sub (teaching) position to open up. It would have to be just the right job. My requirements seemed wishful, at best and unrealistic, at worst. I would need a job that wouldn't start until Gavin was at least 3 months old, I would need to find one that was close by, I only wanted to do special ed and last of all, I would need to convince my aunt to watch Gavin along with Ollie (who she's been watching for the past two years). Let's face it - that's a tall order. Without telling Stephen about my idea, I put out two probes - one with a former professor and one with my sister. Within three days, a teacher that works with Megan told her she would love to have me fill in for her when she goes on her maternity leave. The situation was (is) perfect. I will be working as a K-8 math interventionist at Megan's school, actually sharing a classroom with her! As it turns out, my aunt was wonderful about watching Gavin and instantly agreed to it. Everything fell together perfectly within a matter of a couple of days. The best part of all of it was doing this secretly and then surprising Husband once it was all set up and official.
So, a month and a half - or was it two months? - has passed faster than I can even believe. Here I am now, getting ready for tomorrow. I am nervous, sad, excited, sad, excited, sad...it just depends on when you talk to me. Gavin and I have really settled into a little routine - and I've gotten so dang attached to the little guy! Actually, I've flat out fallen head over heels for him. My heart hurts when I think about being away from him every day for the next two months. It's a smothering kind of feeling, but not one I haven't felt before. I remember when I had to go back to work when Kirby was just 8 weeks old. I cried all the way from the daycare, where I dropped him off on the first day, to work. I wonder how I'll be tomorrow?
I know I'm not special, just another mom who's got to go to work. And, I don't mind it too much, especially when I know how much it will help. I had planned to go back to work this coming fall after all, so this is only a few months early. There are quite a few pluses to this gig, not the least of which is getting my foot in the door with this school district, in the hopes of getting hired in the fall. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how grim the job scene is right now - even for special ed teachers.
The hardest part for me in all of this has been the handful of comments that I've received to the tune of "Gosh, that sounds like a good opportunity...I can't believe you're ready to leave Gavin and go back to work!". As if this is a career move for me. Here's the deal, it's not a career move. However, since I do need to go to work, I am thankful and feel incredibly blessed to have such a great opportunity fall into my lap. And, if I'm going to start a career, I'm even further blessed to have found a field that I am passionate about. I am bound and determined to enjoy this next two months and to soak up all the knowledge I can glean from the teachers I'll be working with. Obviously, I'm most excited about my favorite teacher I'll be working with...Mrs. Moran. Please, say a little prayer for me tomorrow. I'll be the one with a lump in her throat.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
On Shaky Ground
I'm feeling a bit off-kilter today, and I'm not sure why. Connor thrilled and surprised all of us this morning by getting up and dressed with no help and getting off to school without a meltdown. Today would be the first time that's happened since the first day of school. Unfortunately, I blew the whole thing when I dropped him and Kirby off at the front of the school today (where the late people go - and we were late!) instead of the side of the school. So, he ended up squeezing in a meltdown after all, and at the last possible second.
Because I found myself feeling a bit anxious, I decided I would stay for the school mass, which happens every Thursday morning at daily mass. Why is it that my kids groan about going to church every Sunday (they're great once we're there), but on school mass day, they're thrilled to be there with me? I felt truly honored by their hugs and snuggles, and as I listened to the whole school respond "Amen! I believe!" I knew I had chosen the right way to calm my soul and bring peace to my day. There is nothing quite like watching children approach our Lord; and it always brings a smile to my heart.
As I sat in contemplation, I realized that the source of my anxiety was a sub job that I picked up yesterday. In a week, I'll be subbing for 1/2 day at a technology high school in a special ed class - in a kind of rough area. One week ago I would have viewed this as a challenge and a chance to build experience, but today I find that my confidence is completely shaken. I even - for the first time in a LONG time - find myself questioning whether I went into the right field. Can I do this? With what age level will I be the most effective? I take little comfort right now in the words of praise and encouragement I've received from professors, mentor teachers, and interviewers along the way and just keep wondering, "Where will I end up, and will I be able to do it?"
Because I found myself feeling a bit anxious, I decided I would stay for the school mass, which happens every Thursday morning at daily mass. Why is it that my kids groan about going to church every Sunday (they're great once we're there), but on school mass day, they're thrilled to be there with me? I felt truly honored by their hugs and snuggles, and as I listened to the whole school respond "Amen! I believe!" I knew I had chosen the right way to calm my soul and bring peace to my day. There is nothing quite like watching children approach our Lord; and it always brings a smile to my heart.
As I sat in contemplation, I realized that the source of my anxiety was a sub job that I picked up yesterday. In a week, I'll be subbing for 1/2 day at a technology high school in a special ed class - in a kind of rough area. One week ago I would have viewed this as a challenge and a chance to build experience, but today I find that my confidence is completely shaken. I even - for the first time in a LONG time - find myself questioning whether I went into the right field. Can I do this? With what age level will I be the most effective? I take little comfort right now in the words of praise and encouragement I've received from professors, mentor teachers, and interviewers along the way and just keep wondering, "Where will I end up, and will I be able to do it?"
Friday, September 18, 2009
A Baptism by Fire
Excuse me, but was it just yesterday that I was waxing nostalgic over not having my own classroom? Let me retract that statement. Today I am quite happy to be where I am! You see, I had my first official subbing job today and to say that it was "from hell" would be an understatement.
Taking this sub job was a very last-minute thing. I had the day off from testing, and was getting ready to take the boys to school at 7:30 this morning, when I got a call from our local school district. The middle school just up the road from us needed coverage for an art teacher for just half a day. "Perfect!" I thought. I was in art all through junior high and high school, I "get" the artsy kind of kids, I've been enjoying working in middle schools, it's close to home, and it's just half day. I left the house feeling confident that I was set for success.
I think my first clue should have been the fact that the teacher, who was about 6'4", with quite a commanding presence, warned me that the last two classes would give me a tough time. I read through his very detailed notes, which included things like "Frank will give you a really hard time, but don't put up with it. If ignoring him doesn't work, just pick up the phone and dial the disciplinarian and she'll come pick him up and take him to the office." He left me the actual names of students who would be helpful and students who would make trouble. Then, gave me the photo roster to familiarize myself with them.
"Well!" I thought (a bit naively) "There is no way I'm looking up the photo of the kids who are supposedly bad - I'll form my own judgment!" Thinking of my experience as a mother, as a student teacher who worked with high schoolers with emotional and behavioral difficulties, and someone who feels comfortable with middle school-aged kids, I informed the teacher that I felt confident I'd be just fine.
Let's just say he was right. BOY WAS HE RIGHT. Every one of the 6 students I had trouble with was on his little list. I didn't even have time to take note of the "helpful" students during the last period. I can't bear the pain of detailing what went down, but I will just say that it was exactly like the scenarios in my textbook from my Classroom Management class. You know, the scenarios that seemed so far out there that I thought "Yeah right!" Well let me just tell you baby, that I was not even remotely in control of the four naughty kids in the last class. (I think I handled the kid who was verbally threatening me in the 2nd class quite well though) I knew things had taken a bad turn when a teacher-looking person with a radio just showed up in the room and started walking around. She was the literacy coach from across the hall and could hear the ruckus, so she came by to lend some support. The kids piped down a bit, so she left. It took very little time before they got crazy again and soon I recognized the principal walking into the class.
"Crap!" I thought, about ready to cry. "I'm that sub! I'm the sub who can't get control of the class! I'll never be asked to sub here again! I'll never get a job in this district!" I should mention here that the kids took very little notice of the principal, who I happen to know is a very respected principal who is known as being quite effective. Next, another door opened and a tall man with a radio came in. "Oh my god, this is a bust! I'm being busted by the school administration!".
"We heard the kids are giving you a hard time in here," the principal said.
"Oh, uh, no. Not too bad." I said unconvincingly. I was still not sure if I should be thankful for the backup, or embarrassed at the fact that it was needed. "Well, uh, actually there are four kids who are making it pretty difficult, but the rest are trying hard to stay focused and do their work."
Names. He wanted names. And I caved. Those four names slipped off my tongue like they were my own. He then spoke to the whole class telling them he was completely embarrassed by their behavior - and the naughty kids kept talking over him! Clearly I was dealing with students who had no respect for anything or anybody, and had no fear of retribution. He left with some threats of calling parents, and asked me to give him more names at the end of the day if I needed to. After school, the AP showed up at the door to recap. He brought me some relief when he told me that the teacher I was subbing for had been having such a hard time with the same two classes, that he had asked the administration for classroom management coaching. When I thanked him for coming in to lend support, he told me that they had been dropping into those two classes periodically anyway because these same kids are such major behavior problems.
Leaving the school, I did not have the fuzzy feeling I had going in. It felt more like doing the "walk of shame", as I was just sure that every teacher who saw me thought, "Poor thing, she's Mr. X's sub - the one who got completely walked on by the kids!"
I called Husband for some sympathy, which he provided along with a ton of encouragement. Then had to drive straight to my own class, where, in sharing the experience with my classmates I burst into tears. I am so grateful to the six or seven people (including my professor) who came up to me after class to tell me their own horror stories from subbing, as well as what it feels like to be the teacher with the class who misbehaves for the sub. Their kindness and encouragement, as well as that of my professor, who (in his sweet, quiet British voice) kept checking on me, meant the world to me.
I am aware that what I experienced today is just a small piece of what it will be like to be a teacher, with my own class. I understand that some days I will soar, and some days I will plummet to the ground. I just hope I can figure out how to get my parachute open next time!
Taking this sub job was a very last-minute thing. I had the day off from testing, and was getting ready to take the boys to school at 7:30 this morning, when I got a call from our local school district. The middle school just up the road from us needed coverage for an art teacher for just half a day. "Perfect!" I thought. I was in art all through junior high and high school, I "get" the artsy kind of kids, I've been enjoying working in middle schools, it's close to home, and it's just half day. I left the house feeling confident that I was set for success.
I think my first clue should have been the fact that the teacher, who was about 6'4", with quite a commanding presence, warned me that the last two classes would give me a tough time. I read through his very detailed notes, which included things like "Frank will give you a really hard time, but don't put up with it. If ignoring him doesn't work, just pick up the phone and dial the disciplinarian and she'll come pick him up and take him to the office." He left me the actual names of students who would be helpful and students who would make trouble. Then, gave me the photo roster to familiarize myself with them.
"Well!" I thought (a bit naively) "There is no way I'm looking up the photo of the kids who are supposedly bad - I'll form my own judgment!" Thinking of my experience as a mother, as a student teacher who worked with high schoolers with emotional and behavioral difficulties, and someone who feels comfortable with middle school-aged kids, I informed the teacher that I felt confident I'd be just fine.
Let's just say he was right. BOY WAS HE RIGHT. Every one of the 6 students I had trouble with was on his little list. I didn't even have time to take note of the "helpful" students during the last period. I can't bear the pain of detailing what went down, but I will just say that it was exactly like the scenarios in my textbook from my Classroom Management class. You know, the scenarios that seemed so far out there that I thought "Yeah right!" Well let me just tell you baby, that I was not even remotely in control of the four naughty kids in the last class. (I think I handled the kid who was verbally threatening me in the 2nd class quite well though) I knew things had taken a bad turn when a teacher-looking person with a radio just showed up in the room and started walking around. She was the literacy coach from across the hall and could hear the ruckus, so she came by to lend some support. The kids piped down a bit, so she left. It took very little time before they got crazy again and soon I recognized the principal walking into the class.
"Crap!" I thought, about ready to cry. "I'm that sub! I'm the sub who can't get control of the class! I'll never be asked to sub here again! I'll never get a job in this district!" I should mention here that the kids took very little notice of the principal, who I happen to know is a very respected principal who is known as being quite effective. Next, another door opened and a tall man with a radio came in. "Oh my god, this is a bust! I'm being busted by the school administration!".
"We heard the kids are giving you a hard time in here," the principal said.
"Oh, uh, no. Not too bad." I said unconvincingly. I was still not sure if I should be thankful for the backup, or embarrassed at the fact that it was needed. "Well, uh, actually there are four kids who are making it pretty difficult, but the rest are trying hard to stay focused and do their work."
Names. He wanted names. And I caved. Those four names slipped off my tongue like they were my own. He then spoke to the whole class telling them he was completely embarrassed by their behavior - and the naughty kids kept talking over him! Clearly I was dealing with students who had no respect for anything or anybody, and had no fear of retribution. He left with some threats of calling parents, and asked me to give him more names at the end of the day if I needed to. After school, the AP showed up at the door to recap. He brought me some relief when he told me that the teacher I was subbing for had been having such a hard time with the same two classes, that he had asked the administration for classroom management coaching. When I thanked him for coming in to lend support, he told me that they had been dropping into those two classes periodically anyway because these same kids are such major behavior problems.
Leaving the school, I did not have the fuzzy feeling I had going in. It felt more like doing the "walk of shame", as I was just sure that every teacher who saw me thought, "Poor thing, she's Mr. X's sub - the one who got completely walked on by the kids!"
I called Husband for some sympathy, which he provided along with a ton of encouragement. Then had to drive straight to my own class, where, in sharing the experience with my classmates I burst into tears. I am so grateful to the six or seven people (including my professor) who came up to me after class to tell me their own horror stories from subbing, as well as what it feels like to be the teacher with the class who misbehaves for the sub. Their kindness and encouragement, as well as that of my professor, who (in his sweet, quiet British voice) kept checking on me, meant the world to me.
I am aware that what I experienced today is just a small piece of what it will be like to be a teacher, with my own class. I understand that some days I will soar, and some days I will plummet to the ground. I just hope I can figure out how to get my parachute open next time!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
A Lucky Place to Be
I've been walking the halls of middle schools for three weeks now, and I caught myself having a minor identity crisis this morning. Today is my 7th day in the same school and I've gotten to know a couple of the teachers and recognize quite a few of the students. As I walked upstairs to let teachers know which students I'd be testing, I caught myself thinking as if I were a faculty member here! It was so easy to do. I had a momentary glimpse of how I might feel next year, followed by an ever-so-brief moment of sadness. I guess it just illustrates how ready I am to be teaching.
Then I got thinking...I'm so lucky! I truly am. I have the next three months to just get ready for our new baby boy, then the following seven months to enjoy doing what I love the most - staying at home with the baby, and spending the summer with our three boys (I love how that sounds!). While I know that returning to work and leaving a seven month-old baby will not be easy for me, I will be going to do something I love; something about which I feel passionate, and something that will allow me to touch lives. Does it get any better than that? It's kind of like having Christmas every single day until your birthday. And actually, it's not luck. This is what it is to feel truly blessed.
I am so grateful to God for changing my heart, time after time; putting me right where I know He wants me to be. He never fails to bring my heart to where it needs to be as well, He just waits patiently while I slowly release the death grip that I have on my plans.
Then I got thinking...I'm so lucky! I truly am. I have the next three months to just get ready for our new baby boy, then the following seven months to enjoy doing what I love the most - staying at home with the baby, and spending the summer with our three boys (I love how that sounds!). While I know that returning to work and leaving a seven month-old baby will not be easy for me, I will be going to do something I love; something about which I feel passionate, and something that will allow me to touch lives. Does it get any better than that? It's kind of like having Christmas every single day until your birthday. And actually, it's not luck. This is what it is to feel truly blessed.
I am so grateful to God for changing my heart, time after time; putting me right where I know He wants me to be. He never fails to bring my heart to where it needs to be as well, He just waits patiently while I slowly release the death grip that I have on my plans.
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