This summer was easily the most intense of my life. I have never really had a summer in the typical, kid sense of the word. I was always playing competitive sports... softball, golf. Until college, my goal every summer was to play well enough to get noticed by a college coach and earn myself a scholarship. Once I achieved that and got to college, I was required by my coach to play in amateur tournaments all over the country or I wouldn't be eligible for fall qualifying.
There was a lot of pressure.
That was nothing.
I didn't know what pressure was back then! While at the time I thought everything in the world was riding on whether or not I played a good round of golf, what I immaturely failed to realize was that it didn't matter. Not at all. And certainly not to the kids whose lives I've just been thrust into. They don't care if I was a college athlete. They don't care how hard I worked every summer or even if I was a success or failure. They just want me to teach them. That's pressure.
So this brings me to the matter of my summer training. I must say that without it, I would be feeling infinitely more pressure going into the actual school year. We taught summer school in Holly Springs, Mississippi. Students were bused in from a couple different districts for a total of around 250 students. which is a lot of students in one summer school.
We had anywhere from 25 to 30 kids in the 7th and 8th grade English class. It felt like 100 kids for an inexperienced, fresh-out-of-college student with zero training, but it was undoubtedly the best training I could have possibly received. It was like a mini school year. I saw the steady decrease in student focus and behavior as the weeks passed. I had high and low days, successes and failures. I reached some kids and failed to reach others. I learned how to plan a lesson, come up with assessments, and attempt to make grammar interesting.
By no means do I think I am ready for the coming school year. I'm not sure if first year teachers are ever fully ready for that. I actually still hesitate to even call myself a teacher. But I am licensed, and regardless of what my feelings are, I will be in a classroom of my own in a matter of weeks.
I don't want to call myself a teacher either. Maybe in a year's time, but not yet. When people ask what I've been doing this summer, I tell them I'm in a master's program at Ole Miss because I don't feel like a teacher. But, I saw you tell students to tuck in their shirts in the hall, and you looked (and sounded) like a teacher to me...
ReplyDeleteTotally agree with your final paragraph. No amount of role-playing, workshops, and incessant e-mails from Ben can prepare me for what's gonna happen in 2 weeks. But take it or leave it, we will be teaching VERY SOON, and we'll get through it, hopefully. I think the key is realizing this. Not necessarily admitting defeat, but admitting that we're human and that we all fail on occasion...first-year teachers fail more than most. But we wouldn't be here if we couldn't do it. There was nothing stopping any of us from flying/driving home 3 weeks ago (except maybe stipend money) and eventually, I think we'll get the hang of it and become comfortable with being teachers. And it helps that you're gonna be on the most kick-ass 7th grade team on the planet...just sayin'.
ReplyDelete"it felt like 100 kids"... boy can I relate to that. Walking in to the room there were just so many things to keep an eye on... and so many eyes on me! I don't think I experienced 'stage fright' so much as just brain overload!-- 32 bodies makes for 64 eyes, 64 hands, 64 feet all potentially going in different directions... not to mention the impossible task of trying to 'scan' for 'understanding' which isn't a physical attribute. As you say, we can't possibly be prepared for the year.. but I do take comfort in even this tiny bit of growth - the fact that by the end I felt way more able to "keep tabs" on the entire room.
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