This is my sixth year of teaching. In that time I have taught four different grades in four different schools with five different principals in three different districts. While I am relatively new to the profession, I feel like I have experienced a range of approaches to public education in my short time on the scene. As I have bounced around from classroom/building/community to classroom/building/community I have almost constantly felt the exhaustion of a "first year teacher." Each year I have wrestled with a new math program, new approach to writing, new guidelines for reading, new spelling program (or lack thereof), and new social studies/ science topics (always with little to no resources beyond the Standards). On dozens of occasions my husband has cradled a teary wife in his arms and asked, "Is it always going to be this way?" Meaning, will I always be working every evening and all day Sundays, will I always be tired and short tempered? Will it always be so consuming, this profession I have chosen? I haven't been able to tell him no.
This week I have felt like the answer may be no. That maybe there is light on the journey ahead of me.
"David" (my father asked me to clarify that I only use pseudonyms) has had two beautiful days of angelic behavior. "Jeremy" is responsive and bottled, for the moment. In the first week of school I have had more successful, productive lessons than I have had in my entire career. Discussions were rich, paragraphs completed, independent reading was indeed sustained and silent. For the first time in my life I posted student work in the hallway and felt proud to do so. For the first time in my career, I have had the fleeting thought, "Perhaps I am, after all, a good teacher." Whatever that means.
I have left work each day this week after an hour and half of prep to spend time with my kids. We have had relaxed dinners and I was able to leave my bag unopened last night. It feels remarkably manageable. I have a grade level colleague across the hall who is new to the grade/school/district and I remember so clearly how it has been every year in the past. The enormous wall of prep and management that met me every day. She is understandably overwhelmed. In our conversation this afternoon, as we both left to get our kids, I said, "Don't worry. It gets better." That is my hope. That it, I mean I, am, at long last, getting better. Whatever that means.
1 comment:
You are a good teacher. Your self-doubt and analysis are further evidence of that. This year I am watching someone with more than 20 years of experience who is new to our school. She was nervous before the first day and, even more fantastic, wanted to talk about it.
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