Today is Wednesday. However, a more fitting name for today might be “The Day Megan Almost Cried in the Staff Workroom Because Someone Said She Was Good at Something.” It sounds like it’s going to be a good thing, but it isn’t. I hated today. Today was the worst. Buckle up for a long, depressing, journey.
As I may or may not have explained already, I teach math twice a day right now. I teach it in the mornings to my own class, and then I teach the same lesson in the afternoons to the class next door. Today the lesson was about counting on a number line. My class did it fine (I thought) and so I was pumped to do it in the afternoon. Ms. Margie’s class only has about 20 children on any given day, where my class had all 26 in attendance this morning. The smaller class means things are easier (or so I thought). That’s what made today’s fiasco an unexpected disaster. I would have guessed that if one class was going to make me want to curl up in a ball, it would have been mine. But no. How dare I think I can predict what is going to happen in the world of kindergarten.
And OF COURSE today was the day I asked Aryn to evaluate my lesson. I thought “Oh, piece of cake! My class did it great, Ms. Margie’s class will do it better, and I’ll get a nice positive review!” I don’t think I have ever been so wrong about something in my student teaching experience so far. THEY WENT INSANE. I have no idea what came over them, but they were talking, running around, messing with one another’s clothes and hair, randomly falling out of their chairs…oh my god. It was a nightmare.
I could just tell things were falling apart the second they came into the room. I did everything I could think of to get them to pay attention. I went around to every table and asked them to listen to me. I clapped to get their attention. I called them out by name (!!) I had them put their heads down. I shhhhhed them. I said I needed their eyes on me over and over and over…and they WOULD NOT STOP. I felt helpless, and totally incompetent. It was a disaster – a complete and total failure. It was not the boost of encouragement I needed – and was expecting – today. It was the opposite.
After the nightmare was over, Aryn and I went to discuss my evaluation like always. We sat down in the workroom and she began her speech with “…Why don’t we throw this one out and try again?” I could have hugged her. I know that today was not representative of how I’m doing, and she knows that, too. She told me, over and over, the things I am doing right. She said my lesson plans are great, and I’m planning activities for the kids that are appropriate, and meaningful, and that they are enjoying. She said that when I’m one-on-one with a child, I am great at helping them problem-solve and work through things. She said that a lot of student teachers don’t have that, and that I do. She said I do great in small groups and individually. She said a lot of truly wonderful things and I almost felt like crying.
But I knew where it was going. I knew what turn the conversation was taking because I have this conversation with myself literally every single day I set foot in that classroom: I need practice with whole group. I have only learned about classroom management in theory, and this is the first time I am putting it into practice. All the other “practice,” all the other field experiences I’ve had, were not in kindergarten. I am going in blind here, because I have to make it all up as I go. So today, we talked. We haven’t sat down and talked like this regarding classroom control yet (which is strange because I know it’s what I need the most help in). She gave me some great advice that I’m going to try for the rest of the semester. The most important thing, I think, is that regardless of how much time it is taking and how long you have to stand there and nag, nag, nag…you have to get every single child’s attention. Every time. Always. Every single time, I should have 52 little eyes looking at me, because if I don’t then I’ll lose them. I shouldn’t be afraid to call them out by name. I shouldn’t be afraid to wait for them to listen. I should not just go on and assume that they’ll notice I’ve left them behind and will strive to listen better. This sounds reasonable, but like most things that I think sound reasonable in kindergarten, it does not work. Aryn knows this because she’s been doing it for 16 years. I don’t know it yet, but I will. If you leave kids behind, she told me, they won’t bother trying to catch up. It’s nice in our classroom now because we have Ms. Jennie, so there is someone to walk around and help keep them on track. But this week I have asked that they not help me…because I can’t guarantee that I’ll have that help in the future, and I need to learn how to do it alone. Aryn gets that, and she is letting me struggle so that I can learn this.
Attention getting strategies are also one of my weaknesses. I default to the clap pattern one, which works to get their immediate attention but it doesn’t sustain it. Aryn suggested I do movement things like asking them to put their hands on their head (good) or their hands on their opposite ears (even better, because crossing that midline makes their little brains turn on). And sometimes, she told me, even this doesn’t work. Sometimes, you have to stop them – completely – and just wait. Don’t wait in silence, because then you’ll lose them again. Don’t go on with the lesson, because you won’t gain back the ones you’ve already lost. Talk. Not about the lesson, but about your expectations for listening. Talk and wait, until they’re all back to you. One child can distract everyone around him, and they get louder and louder…and then you get louder to counteract it…and then we’re all basically screaming at one another and we all fall down. Getting attention isn’t enough. The key is to keep it. I am slowly (hopefully) learning to keep their attention. It’s hard, because I’ve completely taken over the classroom this week and it’s confusing for them. I am doing everything: transitions, telling them when to clean up, telling them when they can take breaks, go to the bathroom, get drinks, etc. Aryn has completely moved away from the authority position and defers all questions to me. Firstly, that is terrifying for me but it’s something I obviously will need to be used to by the time the semester is over. Secondly, it’s hard for them because they still need to understand that I’m completely in charge now. I am THE TEACHER. I am trying my best to convey this to them, but I think it’s hard for them because it’s also hard for me. Aryn says I need to put my “mean eyes” on sometimes. Evidently my eyes aren’t mean enough. I’m trying.
Aryn also made sure to tell me that every teacher has days like this. She says it’s okay – there are just lessons that don’t work, kids that won’t listen, and days that never fully come together the way we want them to. It happens and it is “okay.” Well that is well and good for everyone else, but most people aren’t as tough of a self-critic as I am. I’m too hard on myself. I know this and I see this. But myself is going to have to just suck it up, I guess, because I have to succeed at this. If I don’t…what have I been doing with the last 4 years? More importantly, what have I been doing with my life? Regardless, I cannot do days like this anymore. I need to show improvement (by my own high standards) or I am going to completely lose it. I just felt so lost today. I suppose it could be because I’ve always just been good at things. It sounds bratty but it’s true. I don’t think I know how to fail at something, and I think that knowing how to find wisdom in failure is important. I cannot believe I am saying this, but I think that I am actually at failure at failing. Failing gracefully and wisely that is…as you can see by this ridiculously long explanation of my horrible day, I’m kind of a pro at just normal failure.
In retrospect, I guess today could also be called “The Day Megan Almost Cried in the Staff Workroom Because She is Way Too Mean to Herself.” I need to try to be nicer to myself for the next 22 (24?) days. Like I've said before, I think others see the good things we miss. I'm missing a lot these days.
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