One Semester Down

How did I make it here?

I’m a teacher. I’m a real teacher. I’m the one who lectures, guides, and entertains. I’m the one who gives out homework (and rarely gets it back). I’m the one who keeps up with grades on an almost religious level, calls parents, gives tutorial every day of the week (thank goodness cross country season is over), and usually end each day more drained than the one before. I am suddenly a young old man.

I remember being a college student not so long ago. I remember being “happy and carefree”, a memory that is probably more constructed than real. I remember coming to Mississippi chocked full of naïve idealism. I can’t believe that guy survived the moment reality hit him like a ton of bricks.

I confront so much each day. I have children with severe issues (aside from their poverty and a total lack of self-control). I have a school district and administration with SEVERE ISSUES. I battle with useless paperwork, pacing guides from hell, and learning walks that continually put me on the hot seat. Way too many of my girls are pregnant or have a baby or two at home. Others are getting into random fights over nothing. Others have some issues with drugs, drinking, and law enforcement. One ran kid away from home. Another is dealing with the death of a parent and responded by cussing me out when I (not knowing the situation) asked her to put her book on the shelf. Despite my best work, my classroom is at times feels borderline chaotic and I still spend way too much time on classroom management.

I really wanted to walk away so many times. Any sane person would have done it.

Yet I didn’t. It appears to have made all the difference.

For the longest time (probably the end of September and the entire month of October) I had the firm belief that teaching was killing both my body and soul. I was tired, overworked, frustrated, failing, and everybody at my school went out of their way to pour salt on the wounds. I got sick twice and cried in my classroom.

Why have stayed?

I stayed because I love my children. I stayed because I like enough of them to get through this. I stayed because during that crappy time I still couldn’t tell my kids that I was giving up. I couldn’t be a quitter. I couldn’t be that guy who walked away.

It’s funny that I spend more time learning than teaching. I am constantly trying to figure out what is going on in the heads of 120 kids and trying to steer them in the right direction. I am learning better ways to manage, better ways to teach, and better ways to preserve my sanity.

I like most of my kids. I like that I am starting to get through to some of the most hardheaded people I have ever met with a combination of compliments, rewards, and smiles. I like it when children come in during my planning period or come in after school looking for a quiet place to work.

I am getting more comfortable each day.

I’m finding my niche. I’m the fairly nice, goofy, misbegotten teacher who occasionally manages to cram lesson through all the chaos and baggage that my children bring into the room. I know a lot of people think they are taking advantage of me. I know now that I am getting more from them than I could have ever imagined.

I am hoping this body and soul of mine will make it three more semesters. I can handle a few more ups and downs. Hopefully none of them will break my heart too badly. Maybe a few of them will make me proud. I’m looking forward to seeing what happens.