It's nice to look forward to going to your job everyday. I really like being a teacher, and even when it's the first week of school, I've realized that these people, this way of life, this approach to being in the world...I LIKE it.
Some days it really doesn't feel like that is the paramount thought, but in review of the classic intensity of the very first week of school, it's a good sign that I can still say that. The first week of school is WEIRD. I feel like I'm teaching ever growing 6th graders instead of 7th graders because they're still learning how to even walk into a classroom and be ready. I answer a thousand questions about things I just said because in their overwhelmed minds, they truly didn't hear me. And they are really trying to get it right. Some of them are sad that summer is over, or they act unusual because their friends aren't in their class. And some of them have been freaked out because the older students shove past them in the halls, and they really do get pushed up against lockers.
I remembered that too from my life as a 12 year old. REALLY scary. That's what they told me about yesterday anyway. So I admitted that when I stand out in the hall, I really am kind of warlike about making sure that my former students aren't barreling past them in order to make a statement. That happens, and then I call a kid out on it REALLY intensely (my loyalties to 7th graders really do come out in those moments) and then my former student is kind of embarrassed that their old teacher had to call them out on not being nice. Disclaimer: this happens, like, 3 times a year, because my former students are actually very kind.
I'm thinking about how to teach them the structure of analyzing historical documents, and they're trying to make it through the halls. Eventually these things meet.
My friend Leigh has a red couch from the 1960s that she brought in to her classroom this year. We LOVE this. We have begun to gather on this couch after school to debrief about the day. The other day 6 teachers were there. This is very good for the soul. It's usually short and sweet, but it's connection, and that's good life right there.
Also this week one colleague compared the first week of school to the act of teaching a kid how to ride a bike. Everyone started laughing because it's true. It feels punchy and weird and counterproductive, but you have to hold on to the seat right now because the kid on the bike is still dragging their feet on the ground, NOT on the pedals, and I imagine them with their shoes untied, probably getting an injury but not telling you about it yet. That's kind of how it feels. It's good to put this into metaphors because than it can live somewhere and not be a swirling feeling of fatigue above your head.
I'm leaning into metaphors for life comparisons this year. You can probably expect to see more here soon.
Last night I had dinner with friends (the majority of us were teachers) and we talked about what we would choose if we had to start over with our careers right now. Half knew what they'd otherwise choose, and half didn't have a clue.
This conversation was really hypothetical and had little bearing on the week we had. I think it came about because we were such a mix of personalities and styles (my very favorite!) and we were all willing to digress to earlier things before we knew each other and were sitting at this pub in Stillwater.
At one point in the conversation, without thinking, I said, 'But what IS better than teaching though?' They laughed like it was a joke, but truly, for me, aside from writing a book or having a family, I couldn't think of anything for my own life.
Despite the differing opinions in this group of friends, this was not a comparison moment. Everyone charts a different course, and I believe that fully. Some people don't want to be teachers for 30 years. But maybe I do....? In a global and ever changing career world, I'm hesitant to say that sort of thing. These days you have 8 career changes on average, and 35 years in a classroom is beginning to feel unreal. But I've worked with teachers who have lived out that story. And they've loved it. People are interesting. Humanity is humbling. History is compelling. There are so many things I still have yet to think about and discuss and sift through and ponder in my subject. And teaching is an ever changing craft. If you don't look at it like an art, you get bored (and boring).
I think it feels important to say these things to myself because in the cold and frosty month of February, you wonder a lot of things that aren't so lovely about teaching. Like, what am I DOING? 80 more essays, here we go. I'm feeling worn out and I don't want to stand in front of these people and teach. The status of teacher health dictates that when you are at both extremes, you can remember why you love what you do. Otherwise you're crackly, and boring, and terribly influential (in a BAD way) in students' lives.
One of my college professors told me once that if I was not into teaching, and really didn't want to be there, it's really appropriate to find another job. Because you're dealing with the lives of CHILDREN and it's very important not to go septic. I think we've all seen that. Gross. No thank you.
Five years into teaching, I'm more a realist than ever before. There are days when I wonder what I'm doing, and why someone forgot to wear deodorant AGAIN, and....the list goes on. But deeper still, and always, there has been a love for school, the people you encounter there and the opportunity to see the world through such a thrilling lens.
It is in this spirit of hope about the big story of teaching that I close out this week.
Always so refreshing.
ReplyDelete