What I Hate About My Middle Schoolers

When they told me that I would have to teach middle school, I thought

Oh, no. Oh, God, please, no. Not them. Not those kids, those big ones I see in the hallways. They’re bigger than I am. They don’t listen. They won’t like me. Please, please, no. Anything but middle school.

But I had no choice. They needed an English teacher. And I needed a job.

And so we were brought to one another, you all and me. 
I had already you were going to hate me. 
You had already decided you hated English class.

So, what was there left to do?
What could we do, if we were both unhappy from the beginning?

We spent several grueling months, me fighting you to listen in class, and to do your grammar homework, and to turn in your writing assignments.

And finally, after nearly a quarter of the year had gone by and we all hated every minute of it, I realized what I needed to do. And I felt so stupid for not realizing it sooner, because as soon as I did it, everything that had gone so horribly wrong turned right.

I decided that I was going to love you. So I did.

I love you to pieces, even when you’re gossiping instead of listening to me.
I love you to pieces, even when you don’t turn in your homework.
I love you to pieces, even when you’re driving me absolutely crazy.

I made the best decision of my life so far when I decided to love you –

And people may tell me that you can’t “decide” to love someone, you just do –

But I’m telling you now, that I did decide. I could have hated that year.
But instead, I loved you.

Now, don’t get me wrong: there are still A LOT of things I hate about you.

I hate that you have to go to school for 8 hours every day and then go home and do 4 hours of homework just to keep up.

(If you’ll recall, I started giving you time in class to do all of your English homework, and I made time for us to study for tests together, and we would read out loud in class so you could all meet your AR goals – and this would be why.)

I hate that you have to grow up in a world with such a focus on being tall, and skinny, and beautiful – whatever that even means – but at the same time, there is a kind of snobby condescension used on people who are these things: they’re “trying too hard,” they’re “getting by on their looks,” they’re “too pretty to be smart”. So those people who are tall, and skinny, and beautiful are also taught to put themselves down: don’t accept the compliments, defer the attention onto something that you don’t like about yourself instead. And in that, there is no winning. Everyone, without even meaning to, is either taught how to hate everyone else, or they are taught how to hate themselves, and this is something that we all have to fight, together.

(If you’ll recall, I didn’t tolerate anybody putting themselves down in my classroom, even if you said you were joking, even if it was about something minor, even if you were complimenting me in the process – and this would be why.)

I hate that you have to grow up learning to sit down, be quiet, not voice your unpopular opinions, not say what’s on your mind, not “talk back” to adults, even when they are wrong, wrong, SO INCREDIBLY wrong.

(If you’ll recall, when you told me you hated my class, hated the book we were reading, hated the teacher down the hall, hated school, hated your parents, hated me…I always asked you why, and I let you explain, and I gave you advice, and I didn’t just tell you to “be nice.” Because sometimes things aren’t nice, and people aren’t nice, and those in charge of us are wrong about things, and we need to know how to deal with this and talk about it and make sense of it – and this would be why.)

So you see, there are a lot of things I hate about you.

I hate that you have to grow up in a world where you will constantly be having to defend yourselves from attacks on your religion, your culture, your looks, and your lifestyle.

I hate that you are so young and already seeing things I've never had to see, not once, in my life that is twice as long as yours.

I hate that you have to be prepared, always, to fight back against oppression, and hatred, and things you don’t deserve because you are only children.

I hate that I forget how young you really are, because of the things you say, and the things you know about, and the things you have to understand much earlier than people in the past did when they were your age.

I hate that you have to be so strong, all the time. But I love that you are.

I love that you are strong-willed, and impassioned, and willing to fight for what you believe in.

(If you’ll recall, I let you argue with me – a lot – and I didn’t shut you down with “because I said so”; we fought tooth and nail about a lot of things, and I let you justify yourselves, and sometimes I wondered if I was letting you take advantage of me because I didn’t just “put my foot down”…but now I’m so glad that I didn’t – and this would be why.)

I love that you support one another, and despite your quibbles and quarrels and general ridiculousness sometimes, you stand strong. In your life, you will be facing a world that does not understand you, full of people who will not be willing to try, and you will have to stand together so you do not fall apart. Do not break yourselves apart from within. Even though you may not realize it now, you are a powerful force, so powerful that sometimes you blew me away with it.

(If you’ll recall, I’ve written this all for you – and to me, words are the most powerful of things. You’ve given me these words because of everything that you do and everything that you are. You are so powerful – and this would be why.)

I love that you are proud of who you are. And I’ve got nothing to add to that, except that I’m just really, honestly proud of who you are too.

I love you. I love all of you, every single one. And when I leave this school, and you continue to learn and grow and be stronger than you ever thought you could, and you forget me (as you will, and that is okay), please know that I will still be thinking about you, and missing you, and loving the hell out of you.

Because, in the end, I may hate a lot of things about you – things that you can’t control, things that happen to you and things that I can’t stand to watch or even think about sometimes, but that you have to live through, every single day.

I hate these things, and I imagine that I will always hate these things.

But no matter what I hate about you, I will always love you.
And more than anything else, no matter what happens to you,
I will always love the fact that you all happened to me.

Dear Teachers: Please Hold On

I am halfway done with my first year of teaching. It has been incredibly unlike what I expected. Hired as a Pre-K 3 teacher (that’s three-year-olds), moved to 4th and 6th grade just one week later, the same week that I began to commute 3 times a week for graduate school – something that sounded perfectly doable when I taught little ones in a half day program that I was prepared for (mentally and resource-wise), but turned into something much more trying when it became teaching two unfamiliar grades for eight hours each day. It is something that I was not sure about, and it terrified me, and at times I will admit that I found myself hating it. But it has been such a blessing, and even though I am still in the midst of it, I am already able to look back on it with some clarity and appreciation for how far I have come over the last five months. 

I hear so many first-year teachers complaining (and I’m no exception) about how hard it is. And it is HARD. It is exhausting to go into this with nothing, and have to create everything from scratch – physical materials and lesson plans, yes, but also mental paradigms about what it means to be a teacher and how to be a teacher. You will never hear me say that teaching is easy, and it especially is not easy when it’s new. As with most things, it’s impossible to truly understand teaching until you’ve been thrown into the midst of it, with no babysitter to guide you along. My classroom is mine, and I am wholly in charge of everything that happens within it, and that is honest-to-God terrifying. I am being trusted with the education of over 40 children, and it is being assumed that I have any idea what I am doing.

Luckily, I have an idea what I am doing. I feel good about myself and my classroom and the way I teach. But I think that there are some teachers who do not feel this confidence. And maybe my confidence is misplaced, but I think that even misplaced confidence is better than none at all. As far as I’m concerned, maybe I’m not doing everything right…but I sure am doing it with enthusiasm.

That being so, there certainly are still times that I am exhausted. There are instances when I am annoyed. There are days when I am genuinely concerned that if a child were to ask me just ONE MORE question that I have already answered five times in the last hour I would just have to lie down on the floor until they all leave. Sometimes I need to just sit silently in my car and stare at the road as I drive home because I literally cannot take any more noise. But those moments are few and far between, and most importantly, they are forgettable.

I have heard that in childbirth, women are in so much pain that a hormone is released to literally make them forget how terrible baby-birthing is so that they won’t be too physically and emotionally traumatized to have another baby. While this is terrifying in its own right (One day my body is going to trick me into thinking I didn’t just almost die of pain not but five seconds ago? Great.), it is also how I feel about teaching sometimes. I have those class periods where I just want to kick all of the children out of my room and hide in the dark so they’ll stop asking me if they HAVE TO write down the science notes on the board (“Well, I definitely didn’t just write out the definition of ‘low-pressure area’ because I can’t get enough of meteorology.”) even though we JUST WROTE SO MUCH in math (“Wait, what? We only wrote short strings of numbers.”) and they are TOO HUNGRY to focus right now (“Are you serious? It’s 8:35. You just had breakfast.”). But give me a few minutes to hide in the teacher’s bathroom during a passing period and stare crazy-eyed at myself in the mirror, and I’ll forget how annoyed I was.

This resilience is important for teachers. If you are a person who cannot bounce back, or easily lets things pile up and weigh you down, maybe you just aren’t cut out for teaching. Students don’t always listen. Administrators aren’t always helpful. Parents aren’t always available (or maybe they’re a little too involved). But these things pale in comparison – or they should, at least – to how important the job of a teacher is. I feel proud of myself when a kid who has been struggling in math finally understands how to do long division. I want to jump up and down (full disclosure: I have, many times) when we can diagram a sentence with 100% accuracy on the first try. I do little ‘happy dances’ (until I am commanded to stop by several 4th grade boys who think I’m maybe the un-coolest person to ever exist) when the kids make connections on their own that I thought I’d have to draw out with a million questions. It all makes up for those moments when I have to remind myself that banging one’s head against the wall is not an appropriate coping mechanism for a 22-year-old.

For all of these reasons and more, it breaks my heart to read the stories of other teachers, so burned out and frazzled that even getting up in the morning is a chore. I see other blog posts and opinion pieces, ranging from naïve first-year teachers in over their heads to seasoned veterans with years of pent-up criticism and hostility, writing pages and pages about how they have lost their will to teach, how standards and tests and lack of funding have stripped this profession of what little joy it had left. I see videos of speeches given by passionate educators vehemently ripping apart the American educational system, pointing to other industrialized countries who are, by some standards, doing “better” than we are. I hear complaints about low pay, limited resources, unimaginative and unmotivated students, unaccommodating administrations, and overly-pressuring teacher evaluation systems. With a heavy heart, I wade through seas of grievances daily, whether they are coming from those I work with or faceless screen names of educators who used to find so much happiness in what they do but have since lost their inspiration. 

And I pray that this will not become me. I fear that I truly am a naïve first-year teacher with delusions of grandeur spending hours at my school every evening and every Saturday just trying to keep up. Maybe I am seeing these so-called “bitter” veterans and saying “That will never be me!”...but what if it will be? What if we all start this way and slowly lose our fight over time? Maybe one can only take so many years of students who don’t listen and tests that don’t help and lawmakers that don’t understand before it’s all just too much. 

But I can hope. I can hope that I will have enough foresight to see this animosity and resentment coming to avoid it. I can hope that I will always be able to see the silver lining in the ever-present storm clouds hanging over my head. I can hope that years down the road I will still be able to remember just how much I love this, and just how important it is – not just to me, but to my students and their families and the community that I serve. I can hope that other teachers who think they are too far gone to love this profession again can find their way back. I can hope that despite the controversies over best practices and the level of importance assigned to standardized testing and the degree to which teachers should (can?) be held accountable for their students’ outcomes...we do not lose sight of the bigger picture.

In my opinion, the “bigger picture” is really the smaller picture. I can get so lost in the anger and antipathy that characterizes many teachers today. I can find myself nodding my head while reading about the injustices that teachers face when they have to “take the blame” for things beyond their control. I can feel the desire to march to the door of the Department of Education and demand the necessary changes while simultaneously threatening to chain myself to the front gates if I do not get my way. But for me, I feel that the biggest difference I can make is to stay out of the impassioned insistence that everything to do with education is terrible today. If I let myself get lost in the world of frustration and hatred regarding things that are, for the moment, out of my control, I will never be able to happily teach in my classroom again. Perhaps there is a middle ground, where a teacher can lovingly and effectively teach a class full of students while spending her free time marching on Washington demanding change. But I am not that teacher. I am just a girl who loves her students and loves her job and is afraid that losing sight of a believable short-term goal (teaching my kids to the best of my ability) in favor of a seemingly-impossible long-term one is the best way to burn out forever.

To all of those teachers who’ve spent so many years feeling helpless: I feel you. I don’t truly understand, and maybe (hopefully?) I never will, but I recognize your struggle and I am not just adopting a “better her than me” standpoint on the matter. I wish that we could all love going to work and not worry about whether or not our students’ test scores are going to determine our salaries. I want all children to be passionate about learning, all districts to have the funding they need, and all policymakers to truly understand what it means to be a teacher. I wish, I hope, I want.

What I don’t want, however, is to lose my fire. I desperately want to keep loving what I’m doing. I complain to my co-teachers in the break room. I vent to my husband constantly. I have lengthy conversations with imaginary adversaries in my car about whether or not what I am doing is right (they always lose, because I am a passionate debater). But despite this, I do love it. I do.

And to every teacher out there who thinks that this year is “the last year I can handle this”…please do not give up. You are not alone in your frustration. You are part of an enormous group of people who feel these same anxieties and have seen their most valiant efforts thwarted by lackluster students and unfair policies. And you are an important part of this group. You matter, in the short run and in the long run, in the little picture and in the big picture. Don’t lose sight of why you started all of this in the first place. Remember what it was like to be a bright-eyed, first-year teacher with a head full of impossible ideas and a heart full of passion and a belief that being a teacher is important, and meaningful, and what you want to do forever.

Remember, and don’t forget this time. For the sake of all of the newcomers who are so hopeful and impressionable. For the sake of the students who, despite being your 20-somethingth class, still see you as the single most important part of their classroom this year. For the sake of those on-the-fence teachers who want to believe that it will get better, but need help to get through the right-now-worst-of-it. And if you have only just begun and think you can't handle it any more, please try to remember as well. I am right there with you, and we can't give up on this.

I know I might be just some young, first-year airhead who has deluded herself into thinking something so resoundingly permanent as the "broken" American educational system can be changed – or at least coped with in good spirits.

But if you are on the verge of giving up completely, and it takes every ounce of your will not to storm out of the classroom tomorrow and never look back, maybe you can still hold on a little longer…if for nothing more than me and my wonderful delusions.

Epilogue - My List of Lasts

I have been putting off writing this blog entry for 4 days. Maybe it's because I didn't know what to say. (That's not true -- I know exactly what I want to say.) Maybe it's because there's just too much I want to say. (Again, a lie -- I have it all planned out. I had it planned out on Friday afternoon. I just didn't write it.) The real reason I didn't blog last Thursday or Friday was simply because I could not handle it. I kind of thought I might cry a little and be sad when I left them for the last time, but I had no idea. I started getting a little misty-eyed when the final bell rang, and I gave each kid a hug on their way out of the door for the last time. I walked them to the bus and then went back in for my bag, like I always did. I said goodbye to my desk, and the room, and the hallway (I do this weird thing when I leave a building for the last time, don't judge me...it may or may not involve me blowing kisses to inanimate objects). I went through the office to give Jennie her goodbye present and she gave me a hug and OH MY GOD was I about to cry. I basically had to run out of the building. I got into my car and drove down the road about ten feet and then totally lost it. I literally cried the entire way home, which is a 35 minute drive so I feel like I set a new record for myself in recent years.

It was hard. I don't know why it affected me so much. I mean I do, but I don't. Of course I'll miss them. But it was more than that. This school was kind of the final piece in my "Learning to Teach" puzzle, and I just wasn't really ready to say goodbye to it yet. I think the other reason I was so upset is because of my list of lasts. "Megan, what is that?" you ask. Hold on. I'm getting to it.

In life, sometimes we can't ever be quite sure when the last time we're going to do something is. The first time is obvious -- if you've never done it before and then you do it, that's the first time. Everyone is immediately aware of their "first time" to do the big things in life: first day of school, first kiss, first car they've owned, etc. That's easy. What's hard is knowing when the last time you'll do something is. We often can't be 100% sure of when the last time of anything will be until it's already happened. In retrospect, it's easy to create a list of lasts. It's much harder to see them coming. Some people might like to see them coming. I don't want to.

What hurt me so much about last week was that I saw the "lasts" coming. It sounds kind of silly, but if you know something is going to be the last time, you treat it differently. You pay more attention to things, and you try to cherish it, and you want it to all be perfect because you know you're never going to get a chance to do these things again. But by doing all of that, you take away from whatever it was. You try to make it perfect and it's so upsetting when it isn't. You start to think "What if the last thing I say to this child is negative?" or "What if I never get to give him/her one more hug?" or "What if I don't say goodbye?" And you spend so much time trying to perfect your last moments...that you miss them.

When I look back at my life-long "List of Lasts," I can tell the difference between the ones I saw coming and the ones I did not. The unexpected lasts might not have been perfect, and sometimes I think "If I had known that the last time I _______ was going to be the last time, I would have done ______, ______, and ______ differently." I sometimes wish I could go back and cherish those "last" moments one more time. But at the same time, at least I know those moments were genuine. I wasn't trying to make them perfect because I didn't know they were going to end up on my list of lasts. They certainly weren't perfect (and a lot of times they were absolutely terrible), but at least they were real.

I knew my last day was going to be my last day. It was scheduled for me and I couldn't change it. I knew my last moments were coming. The bell rings at 3:10 every day and there was nothing I could do to stop it. My "lasts" were decided for me. I tried to make them perfect because I saw them coming. I was already sad going into them because I knew they were it. That was the end. I wish that I had been happy going into my last moments with my kids, but I just couldn't be. BECAUSE I KNEW I WAS PROBABLY NEVER GOING TO SEE THEM AGAIN. How can anyone possibly be happy going into that?! I just can't fathom how I would have done that. There's that Dr. Seuss quote -- "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." Well, I am smiling. I had a lot of wonderful, positive experiences this semester, and even some terrible ones that I learned lots from. But I still cried because it was over. I can do both, Dr. Seuss. Don't tell me what to do.

One thing that I did love about Friday, though...one thing that I've loved my whole life, is that some things just work out perfectly. Sometimes it's like the universe is telling me "Okay, Megan...look at this. This is how it should go. Do not argue." It happens to me sometimes with specific dates popping up all over the place  or certain songs playing on the radio right when I'm driving past something that ties it all together. But sometimes it happens in other ways. On Friday, I went to change the Student of the Day name. This child gets to be the line leader, do the most work on the Smart Board during opening, and lead calendar time. The names rotate in alphabetical order. On Friday I reached into the folder and the name on top was Tommy's. It was Tommy's day to be line leader. And I almost couldn't believe it, because the day I walked into the classroom (January 14, 2013)...Tommy was the line leader. He was it on my first day and he was it on my last. If that's not the universe telling me everything is supposed to end this way, then I don't know what is. It's hard, but I really feel like I have to listen when things like that happen. I have to accept that it was the end, because it was. Everything was telling me that it was. Everything that happened on that day is now a part of my List of Lasts.

It was so weird to give this blog a real, actual title. It's not just a number anymore. The numbers are gone. I graduated on Saturday. I finished my four years as an undergraduate. My list got a whole lot longer over the past few weeks. It's sad when I have to add something to the list. But it's just a part of growing up, I guess. I don't know. This is why it took me so long to write this. I know what I want to say, and I'm trying to say it. I'm usually pretty good about writing how I feel. I'm just really bad about being willing to share it with people. But this blog changed that. And I could not be more grateful for it.

Day 70 - April 26, 2013

This is it. Day 70. I've been waiting for this day since I started. I've been counting up, counting down, planning for and anticipating. And now it is here. I don't even know where to start. I'm getting a little emotional trying to write this. How can I possibly begin to summarize all of the feelings I have today? I know that I'll be back in a week to truly meet all of my requirements, but today really feels like the end.

I guess I am a little glad, though, that today wasn't the end. It was Fitness Friday (consequently, that is why I am sitting here with blue and pink hair...more on that later) and so the end of the day was really rushed and kind of crazy, throwing backpacks around and hurrying everyone out the door. So I didn't really get to say goodbye to any of the kids or Jennie or Aryn...and I didn't have to because I'll be back next week. I am thankful for that now, looking back on it. I would have been really disappointed if my final memories of all of my children were of them sprinting out the classroom door with their backpacks half open. Next week I will be able to give them a proper goodbye, and so for that reason I am glad we'll be back. (Let me be more clear -- that is the only reason I am glad we'll be back.)

I don't know if I'll even blog next Thursday or Friday. I might, if something really extraordinary happens, but for all intents and purposes, this is it. I've reached the finish line in this race that I started without a game plan, took the long way around a couple times too many, and ended up right back where I started...but a million times happier and more proud of myself.

Fitness Friday was really fun. Us student teachers prepared a little dance called "Ice Cream and Cake," and we all dressed up like different flavors of ice cream. I found this glitter spray-in hair color at Walmart last night and bought it for us all to use, so we had multicolored hair to match our colorful clothes. I was cotton candy ice cream, and I dressed all in blue -- Christina even brought me a tutu that I wore for the dance. It was so fun, because usually we're all really reserved and professional, but today we got up in front of everybody and danced like fools in our crazy hair. I loved it. Everyone was so shocked at how "into it" we got. I don't think they were expecting us to go all out like we did. (The bathroom that we got ready in still smelled like hairspray an hour later...we used A LOT of it.) It was fun to just be silly for once and not care how I looked. Teachers need to do stuff like this, because the kids love it and it really gets them excited for whatever is going on. Before this semester I would never have dreamed that I would be doing a dance in front of 400 people with a blue and pink side ponytail and a tutu...and yet here we are.

I did not cry today. I think it was because I knew it wasn't truly the end. I can't speak for next Friday yet, but I think that's when the waterworks might start. Today Aryn signed my last weekly evaluation. It's weird -- I have all of my paperwork done. There are no more lessons to write or evaluate, no more reflections to do, no more forms to fill out or evaluations to get signed...it's all done. My binder is finished. My projects are done. I still can't really fathom what it is going to be like to not be an early childhood undergraduate student anymore. It's been my life for the last 4 years. Wow. 4 years. It sounds like such a long time, and yet it feels like yesterday I walked into my little "freshman experience" class with no idea what I was getting myself into. I don't know if I'm ready for it to be over. I never really, seriously thought about what it would be like to be finished. I've been saying how ready I am to be done, and now I'm approaching the end of my marathon and I'm actually surprised to see the finish line. It's so weird how things happen like that -- you're so, so, SO ready to be done with something, and then bam when it hits you, you're a weepy, sobby, scared little mess who just wants to have a little more time to figure it all out. Is that what I am right now? I don't know. I think I might just be rambling because I don't want to be done with this entry yet. I am not ready to say goodbye to my little blog that's carried me through this semester.

I don't know what I'm going to do with this blog now. I think I want to keep it going, in some way. It has been good for me; it's given me an outlet for my excitements and frustrations. It's let me talk things out and organize my thoughts. It has truly made me a better teacher this semester, and I don't think I'm ready to let it go. I think I'll keep it alive, somehow. I'll never truly be done learning, especially my first few years teaching. Maybe it won't be every day, but it will be here if I need it.

One final thing I realized today: in the carpool home yesterday a couple of the girls were talking about how they're worried that when it comes time for them to get a job, they're going to not enjoy teaching. They're worried that they've put all this time into it and that they're going to be bad at it or it's going to burn them out, or that they just won't like it as much as they thought they would. I was surprised because that is exactly how I felt at the beginning of this semester, and now it's completely changed. I didn't know that other people thought this way. And I'm kind of sad for them, because this semester did change my mind about wanting to be a teacher...but it made me want to do it more, not the opposite! I was ready to find a completely different career path when I started this semester (you know, Days 2, 3, 4...). I made that clear to Aryn. I told her I didn't think I wanted to teach anymore and I was a little scared and unsure about what I wanted to do with my life.

And then I changed. She changed me, and these kids changed me, and this school changed me. I want to do it now. I really, really do. I am still going to go for my PhD and probably end up teaching at a university somewhere. I know that I won't be in an elementary classroom forever. But I know that when I am teaching children, it won't just be to build up my credibility in the future, or to make money while I'm trying to decide where to apply for school, or any of those things I thought it was going to be just 4 short months ago. It is going to be because I want to, and because I am good at it. I am a good teacher. I'm not going to ask myself if I can  learn to teach anymore -- I KNOW I can. I have, and I will continue to. I will be able to do this. I know I will because I have already done it. I am capable. I am not going to be scared and tear myself down anymore. I am not going to be so hard on myself. I am going to try and see my strengths -- the ones that others see but I (deliberately) look past because sometimes I'm more comfortable seeing my bad qualities instead of my great ones. But I can't do that anymore, because everyone who has supported me through this semester (including me, now) knows this to be true: I am smart, I am prepared, and I am passionate. I am no longer the scared, "passion-less" girl I was on January 14, 2013. I am a teacher. Really, truly, honestly.

Day 69 - April 25, 2013

Tomorrow is Friday. It doesn't feel real. I know we have to come back next Thursday and Friday to make up for our snow days, but it still doesn't feel like I'm almost done. I am already getting nostalgic (and a little weepy) thinking about not being with these kids anymore, in this school anymore, with Aryn anymore...

I don't think it's quite hit me yet. And it won't hit me until next week when I really, truly have to say goodbye. A few weeks ago I was SO ready. Now I am not ready...not even a little bit. This week has made it so much harder for me to think about saying goodbye. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's because I'm teaching all 26 of them by myself (since Aryn is swimming from 11:45 to 1:30 and Jennie has lunch duty until about 1:15) every day and I'm not stressing out about writing down detailed accounts of how they like my lessons and what I think I should improve and whether or not they're learning the names of the oceans...I'm just teaching. I'm seeing what works and what doesn't, and I'm documenting it (mostly here), but I'm not spending hours upon hours sitting with my head in a notebook handwriting an assessment for whether so-and-so used proper capitalization in her journal entry about what pirates eat. I'm just teaching.

Today was amazing. I know that the past few days have been stressful and I feel like I'm just a yelling, screaming, punishing monster...but not today. Today was different. I don't know what it was, but it was perfect. I did the "talk quietly to draw them in" thing and it worked the very first time. I had them all write their numbers 1-100, and I was expecting a lot of moaning and complaining and refusal to do it. But there was none. I had them all sit and listen while I clearly explained my expectations, I handed them their papers, and they did it. They sat there -- 25 of them today -- and wrote. They didn't talk. They didn't scream my name every 5 seconds to ask me "whyyyy do we have to wriiiiteeee so muuuuuuchhhhh....?" They really wanted to do it, and do it right. They raised their hands to ask for help writing a number. They weren't falling out of their chairs or getting up to sharpen their pencil every minute or whining about how their hands hurt (and trust me, that's what I usually get when it's time for handwriting). They just DID IT. One boy was making some noises while he was writing -- just weird squeaking noises with his mouth that I think he may have been doing subconsciously, and rather than everyone in the room yelling "BE QUIET!!!!" the other children at his table said "Can you please stop? I'm trying to concentrate." No joke. Exactly that phrasing. I don't know if we accidentally put sedatives in their spinach at lunch, but it was a miniature miracle for me. I took a video to show Aryn when she got back because I just could not believe how quiet they were. 20 of them finished their numbers in about 20 minutes. The other 5 I will help finish tomorrow.

This "thumbs-up behavior," as I've grown accustomed to calling it, lasted pretty much all afternoon. They did a good job when they went next door for Math, and Ms. Margie's group did excellent for me in Reading, too. I don't know what the deal was with today, but it was good. I liked it. I want it to stay that way. I am hopeful that it will, and that tomorrow will be just as wonderful as today was. We all need these days, the ones that motivate us and validate what we're doing, and send us home smiling and excited for what tomorrow will bring. I have had more than enough days that do the opposite...I'm so thankful to have some that end up like this. I love to leave school happy. I have faith that tomorrow will be good.

Day 68 - April 24, 2013

Today was the same as yesterday, in the fact that I felt like a complete monster who was just so grumpy and yell-y the entire time! I don't know why this week is going so poorly, but it is. Maybe it's because I wasn't expecting it (and kindergarten is always the opposite of what I expect, I've found). I tried really, really hard to be positive, but they are just in a mood or something where sassing off and talking back is what's going on right now. It's not just me -- the kids are driving Aryn crazy, they're driving Jennie crazy...the other grades are a little crazy, too. Is it the weather? Is there a full moon or something? I just hope it improves tomorrow.

Today I had my final meeting with Aryn and my university supervisor. It went really well! I graded myself too harshly (as always) but I did give myself some 4s this time, which I am proud of! I never do that, so it shows that I really think I've improved this semester. I loved listening to Aryn talk about what she's seen in me that has improved and where I can still make things better. I'm so thankful that she is so honest are realistic, but still nice. I can trust her to seriously tell me when something just is absolutely terrible, but also to give me help to make it better. I know some people's cooperating teachers just give them all 4s and don't provide suggestions for improvement, but Aryn has really helped me to see where I'm lacking (or confirming what I already see as my weaknesses) and given me real, GREAT tips for fixing it -- and the opportunities to fix these things. I need that. We all need that. I'm just lucky enough that I get that.

The other half of that is, she also helps me to see things that I don't see at all (usually these are my strengths, since I tend to miss those and focus on the weaknesses). I get really happy and kind of smiley and giggly (on the inside) when she tells me I did a good job with something. It sounds so lame typing that out, but it's really how I feel -- she's an experienced expert in my eyes and so if she says I did something well, I feel really proud of myself. :)

The last thing I realized today is that the carpool this semester, while also saving me a lot of gas money and miles on my car (not to mention an extra hour of sleep on weeks I don't have to drive) has given me the chance to get a glimpse into other grades and see what is going on in there. I've never taught in a 3rd grade class, but I sort of know what is going on in there thanks to the 2 girls who are student teaching there now. Talking on the way to and from school helps us all see common issues, share exciting or funny stories, or just rant when we need to. I didn't think I would enjoy it this much, but looking back on it, it has been a really good experience. All teachers need time to get together outside of school and talk like this. With my co-workers we do it over dinner or on a night out. It's just really important (I think) to spend time together outside of the common place you all share daily. I've been terrible at making friends since as long as I can remember, but they're really important -- especially "teacher friends." I hope that wherever I end up I can find a group of people to share my experience with just like I have this semester.

And on that happy note, I am going to bed. At 9:30. I can't wait until I can stay up a little later and not feel like a disaster the next morning. 1 more week!

Day 67 - April 23, 2013

Today I taught a lot! I guess I shouldn't have expected to just sit back and relax this week. :) Aryn had to go sub in 5th grade this morning so I taught all morning and then half of the afternoon while she was at swimming again. It was almost like being back in my ICS weeks -- having TOTAL control of the classroom. It was kind of a hard day, though, because I just really felt like the children were super loud and nothing I said or did could calm them down.

Christina (Margie's student teacher and my classmate since Block I) made a good point today during our final supervisor's meeting -- she said she feels like these days since she's not teaching anything, the only time she has to address the whole group is to "yell at them." I kind of agree: we're not (or most of us are not, anyway) teaching anything at all this week, so there's a lot of sitting and watching like we're back in Week 1 again. If we do have to get the whole group's attention, it's because they're being too loud or something is wrong or whatever. I'm going to consciously try to make most of my interactions positive. I should be doing this anyway, but it's hard right now. Especially since I'm back in charge, I have to be more "grrr" with them at times. I do feel, though, that when I am doing opening or reading, I keep it pretty calm and sweet. I noticed a few weeks ago that when Aryn teaches the whole class, she lowers her voice to almost a whisper and keeps their attention by drawing them in. I tried that this week and BAM -- it's like magic!

Tomorrow they have Music at a super weird time (like 1:15 or something crazy) so it's going to mess up our schedule again. I've been taking my computer to school and working on my final projects during my breaks (when they're in Music or P.E. , or even on my lunch break sometimes), so tomorrow I'll probably do that at our weird Music time. I'm almost done...I can see the finish line! I have ONE more project to do (a one-page paper for my night class) and I think I can do that over the rest of this week. This race (more like a marathon... this semester took forever) is almost over! I am almost a certified teacher!