Monday, November 17, 2014

Confessions of a first-year teacher

When you study to become a teacher, everyone who has ever spent time in the world of public education will tell you that your first year is hell, and I am the first to admit that it is NOT a lie. I can't believe I've already [almost] survived my first semester. So, most people are right when they say, "Oh, you're a first-year teacher? Bless you." But there's a heck of a lot of stuff they don't tell you. This is by no means a comprehensive list.

1. You have no idea what you're doing about 89% of the time. I'm not just talking the procedural stuff, I mean, literally, you're making stuff up as you go. You can plan a bomb lesson (that middle school speak for "great") and then realize what happened in your brain is not happening in your classroom, and you somehow run to various teachers and gather resources because your plan sucks. And it's OK to admit it. Fire drill? Crap, where do we go? Is that sound for a severe weather drill or lock down? You just called into my room for a student? Oh, sure s/he is on his/her way. Wait...never mind, I don't teach him/her!

2. Lunch time with fellow adults is SACRED TIME. Some days, you will count down the minutes until you can have an adult conversation where someone can call you by your first name.

3. Hearing "Ms./Mr. _________" in public is like hearing the "eeee- eee- eee" in the shower scene from Psycho and you immediately wish you could switch bodies with the person next to you.

4. You might pee your pants a little the first time an administrator walks into your room for an observation (completely normal).

5. You will constantly ask yourself if this is a situation in which you push that glorious white button for an administrator, or if you can handle this situation by yourself.

6. People will think you're dumb. Sometimes that will work to your advantage, like when you make a mistake, other times you will get frustrated because that ONE time you actually did know what you were talking about.

7. Kids will think that because you're young that you're cool. Then you'll open your mouth to try to say something to relate to them and you'll realize you should have just kept your mouth shut. But hey, embarrassing yourself makes you more relatable, right? (please say "right.")

8. You will now understand why your teachers misplaced so many things. I've "lost" tests about 3 times since my kids took them on Wednesday. Even the most organized people get lost in the hustle and bustle of the 8,000 things happening in a classroom. I lose my keys on a daily basis. 

9. Falling asleep at 9 pm (or earlier) is completely acceptable because being an adult is no joke. 

10. You will probably want to quit about 4 times a week some weeks. Anyone who says they don't feel that way is a liar.

11. You will find yourself saying, "We did NOT cover this in student teaching/college classes" almost on a daily basis.

12. "Other duties as assigned" means a plethora of things: breaking up fights, carpool duty, emailing frantic parents in the middle of the day, continuing to teach while a bird flies into your window about 12 times, learning to incorporate words like, "bruh, bae, cutting, fye" into your every day vocabulary, dealing with kids repeatedly farting. Yup. I said it.

13. You will cry. A lot. Out of confusion, frustration, anger, disappointment, sadness, and happiness.

14. There are days where you will be the first one in the building and the last one to leave. You will look at the teachers around you and think, "How do you people have lives outside of work?" This part will get better (most days).

15. It will sometimes take about 4 weeks of bad days to finally have one good day where you think, "THIS. This right here. THIS is why I became a teacher." And these days have to be held on to. You have to hold on to them so stinkin' tightly that you might suffocate that day. Because only on a day like that can you realize that one of your students who had a 57 6 weeks ago now has a 79 and got a 90 on their test. On one of those days, you will sit in your classroom long after your coworkers have left, and sob. You will sob because something finally clicked for that child. You will sob because you helped them get there; something you said made sense for that child. Even better, that child will tell you they appreciate you. And as you grade that test the 5 seconds it took that child earlier in the day to say that to you will come flooding back, and the hell you find yourself in won't seem so hot anymore.