First Year Teaching
2005-01-09 at 12:27 p.m.
"Well, on the bright side," she said, gesturing for me to sit down in the zebra-striped chair opposite her desk, "you're going to be a great teacher. You have a real rapport with your students."She looked at me over the top of her glasses. "If they didn't have a rapport with you, they probably wouldn't talk and disrupt so much."
Talk about damning with faint praise.
I got observed on Thursday. Let me call her Stella, a woman who's sharp, to the point, and don't deal out any ass kisses. And every surface in her office is covered with a different animal print--her bulletin boards, her chairs, her file cabinets even. Leopard, zebra, tiger--it's a cornucopia of safari in there. So, Friday morning, I truly felt like I was sweating on a savannah when I had to hunt her down to get her opinions.
The worst part was, she didn't tell me anything I didn't know. That class she observed is my Monkey Class. I could name eight students without even trying who are a struggle to keep on task, and have no self-monitoring skills. I'm going to start confiscating headphones on Monday, I've had to already rescind bathroom priveleges, and I'm about at my wits end.
The thing is--I know this is Part of First Year Teaching. I voice frustration, but I expect to be frustrated. I'm not about to quit teaching, and I'm not about to really think I'm not meant to be a teacher. So when I gripe and grouse--it's not really despair. I mean, it is, a little bit--I feel bad for those kids who are forced to endure my first year of teaching. But I know this is just skills I have to learn, and everything I've read and everyone I've talked to says it takes three years. So I appreciate it when folks say, "Hang in there, it'll get better," but I know that. I'll look back on this year and still remember Eyebrow Ring and the Wrestlers, and my cheerleader and the worried face girl.
Sigh. I gotta take the acheivements where I can.
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