After teaching for four weeks, I've eaten a lot of words and regretted a lot of actions. I take back every homework assignment I blew off. I regret every worksheet I threw out when I figured the teacher would make me an extra copy. I take back everything I ever said about teachers trying to trick students on tests. I take back every pen I never returned.
Because the tables have turned and I'm reminded daily that I'm now on the other side of the education machine. I dance in my dorm room when (almost) all of my kids turn in their homework. I cry when I look at my credit card bill and realize I've gone through five ink cartridges in four weeks making copies of worksheets and tests. I have to doublecheck myself to make sure I'm not making test questions too easy, in hopes that the kids will do better, rather than worse. I doublecheck wrong answers, hoping it's me who made the mistake. I have lost 20 pens and pencils in 17 days. 20 in 17 days!!!
My savings from USATODAY are going toward ink cartridges and pens. Hear that, Gannett?
For all the heartfelt sappiness I recall and relate about my first forays in teaching, it's not always fun. In fact, during the 65 minutes of class, it's rarely ever fun. There are things to do, papers to write and grammar to learn. Oh, and warnings to pass out. I always have a headache from yelling (assertively!) for at least 30 of those minutes. Oftentimes after class I need caffeine, some ibuprofen and a few minutes just to stare at a wall. Damn, I can't wait to go back to Maryland for a week and just stare at a wall.
And that is just a single 65-minute class. In the fall I will be teaching up to 12 special education students in my resource classroom. I'll have reams of paperwork in addition to lessons, homework and classroom behavior management. There will definitely be more than one class. It will be rewarding, but on a long-term scale. There are no gratifications of instant CMS publishing or next-day bylines in this field. But perhaps it will be more meaningful. And that's what I have to remember during the roughest, tear-stained, pen-loss days.
From Pat, my former housemate who is forever cynical, but who would turn off my lights and pull the covers over me when I fell asleep doing work at night:
polliian: if you know that what you're doing is good and worth it you can withdraw from the rest of the world.
polliian: dont let the bastards grind you down (in reference to the institution, not the kids!)
jess every single one of your enteries are like real fraeking essays in paragraphs and stuff you dont have to be a perfect writer all the time man....
Posted by: Ryan | July 15, 2005 at 09:29 PM