Random Thoughts Like Fireflies

There's so much I want to write about teaching. I don't know where to start. I guess I can tell you how I feel at this moment, that's a way to begin. I feel tired, but satisfied. Most weekends, I spend Saturday doing lesson plans, thinking about what I want to teach my 6th and 7th graders in the coming week, reading material, deciding on resources, creating handouts I'll need. At the end of the planning, I sit down with 8-10 pages of Sunshine State Standards and figure out what standards, benchmarks and grade level expectations my lessons will meet. This is the trench work, the ditch digging, the plain mind-numbing necessary part. Meanwhile, though, my brain is whirling along like a top. I'm thinking about the coming week. I'm getting excited about seeing the kids on Monday. How lucky I am, I think, to be a teacher.

I also feel very proud to be a teacher. Long before I saw the Harry Wong DVD, I knew teaching was an "honorable profession." Despite the scandals in the headlines and the complaints from parents, 95% of teachers do an excellent job. They work long and hard to bring their best to the classroom. I don't know any teachers at my school who actually leave the building when the 2:10 p.m. bell rings, signalling the end of their "official" work day. I know many who come in on weekends. It's not hard to spend time in your classroom. If you're a natural student and you love teaching, where else would you rather be? I've looked up on many occasions and wondered how I lost track of two hours. Time to pack up and go home.

As a teacher, I feel so fortunate that parents trust me with their kids. I've had interactions with a handful of parents now, and they've all been positive. I'm sure I'll have the not-so-positive ones, but the parents I've met have been good listeners, concerned about their child, and willing to work with me to get Johnny or Susie back on track. I had one parent who came up to me the other day, introduced herself, and shook my hand. I told her that her daughter, who just happens to be an ESE student, was the hardest-working student in my sixth period class. Mama beamed. By telling parents good things about their kids, the partnership is strengthened.

Right now, I'm feeling very satisfied. I graded the second selection test my students took on Friday and there were some big gains. I've learned that when I give students a test, it shows me how I'm doing, and that's important. One kid made a 40+ point gain on this test. There were many who made more than the 10 points I bribed them for by offering to bake brownies. I'm definitely not a "good" teacher yet, but I think I've got the raw materials for being one some day. An important part of this job is the ability to reflect on what you're doing and make changes along the way. This time, I spent three weeks on the story and did an intensive review the day before the test. The proof is in the pudding. I'm so proud of my students.

I'm thinking about the yelling I did in the classroom this week. I have several classes that seem to be genetically modified to be noisy. They come in and start talking, and when 20 kids are jabbering at once, my little portable is a hive of racket. So, I've yelled. I still have a louder voice than they do. They've listened. I haven't sent anyone to discipline this week. I'm determined to keep the most unruly students in my classroom if I possibly can because the more time they spend out of it, the less they learn. So, even though I've yelled, I feel my students respect me. I've told them that I care about them and I care about learning. I don't prepare as hard as I do so that kids can come in and slack off. I think that if they know I care, they will perform. I make sure they know that it's nothing personal, that my yelling is always about behavior that needs to change. These same kids greet me in the hallways and seem happy to see me when I meet them outside the classroom. That tells me they've received the message, loud and clear.

I'm thinking about the first pep rally my sixth graders went to a week ago. Cast back, if you can, to the first pep rally you went to. A pep rally is like a circus, lots of noise and activity; you never know what is going to happen next. The cheerleaders were flipping around, the band was playing a rowdy number, the football players were hunkered down at the edge of the court, proudly beaming in their teal jerseys. The cheerleader coach said it best: a pep rally is a time to be noisy and have fun, a time to show school spirit and support the team. Davidson has its first male cheerleader this year. Before the rally, there had been talk of how the kids would react to seeing a new fella on the squad, flipping and doing moves with the rest of the girls. Right before I took my sixth graders over to the gym, I brought up the subject of the new cheerleader. "We need to remember that he's an athlete, too. He's worked hard to make the squad." I shouldn't have worried. The kids cheered loudest for the male cheerleader. They loved his moves and showed their wild appreciation. We all had a great time.

I'm excited about new books for my classroom library. My mentor turned me on to Scholastic book clubs, and I ordered $65 worth of paperbacks this week. When they arrive, I can get rid of the secondhand "adult" novels left on my book trolley by my predecessor. I'll have new books the kids can read and enjoy. There's no way you can be a teacher and not spend your own money. When people grouse about teachers they usually say they only work 9 months of the year and they're paid for 12. Counting all the hours they spend at school when the students aren't there, I'm sure things even out. Adding up all the money teachers spend for and on their students, they're never paid enough. The long hours and the out-of-pocket expenses come with the territory.

I'm glad that I didn't become a teacher when I was 22 or 23. If I had, I might be burned out and bitter at this point in my life. Instead, I came to this vocation later in life, ready to spend the next 20-25 years learning every single day how to be better at what I do. Hopefully, I'll spend the rest of my working life being challenged and being creative. Since most of us spend a third of each day at work, it makes sense to find the work you're meant to do. Why not enjoy your job? I'm glad that I made the decision to get the training to embark on a new career.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I watched a little movie called "An Unfinished Life." It's a beautiful film, if you haven't seen it, and the Canadian scenery is gorgeous. At the end of the film, characters played by Robert Redford and Morgan Freeman, old cowboys and bosom buddies, are sitting on the sagging porch of a bunkhouse. Freeman tells of a dream he had the night before: in the dream, he was flying above the earth and he could see how everything fit into a pattern, there were no gaps or mistakes. Sometimes, we long for God's eye view, to know that things happen for a purpose, that there is a divine meaning that encompasses the chaos down here in the dust. How fortunate we are when we can get a glimpse of that purpose in our own lives. It's the kind of thing that makes you thankful with each breath.