This past week has been full of an extreme mix of emotions
and learning opportunities for me as a young, inexperienced, but eager-to-learn
teacher. I work primarily with the younger crowd, who before starting this job scared
me a little. (That in and of itself has been a big change for me). I now love
the younger children and the wonder they bring to the classroom. Their eyes are
so bright and their minds yearn to be fed knowledge.
Last week I had an opportunity to work with the 5th
grade group. I was extremely excited to gain experience with an age group I
enjoy. 5th grade students are people. They have their own minds and
are beginning to form their own opinions. They are able to hold conversations
and debate issues, which makes teaching so rich. Upon entering the classroom I
knew I couldn't waltz in demanding their respect. I haven’t had much exposure
to these kids and therefore haven’t gained their respect. How could I expect
them to respect me if I haven’t had a chance to yet prove that I respect them?
As true as this statement is, there is still a level of respect expected from a
student to a teacher, which I am. (Hard to convince myself of sometimes, or if
I’m being honest, most days) I walked into the room with a mix of what I
thought to be friendly sternness. Within moments, the class seemed to explode out
of control. I felt my effectiveness slip out from under me, and my authority leave
me before I had assigned their work. Here I was in the middle of a class of 5th
grade students who neither respected me, nor desired to listen to anything I
had to say. I felt defeated, stupid and unequipped to do the job I had been
preparing myself for these last 5 years. I always thought, “I want to teach
middle school English-I like the older kids”. This day, and in this particular
moment, I felt as though that idea, dream and wish was a total wash, and a ridiculous
notion. Me, teach middle school? I can’t even hold down a group of 5th
graders for 2 hours with lesson plans. Pathetic, embarrassing, and
disheartening are a few words that made their way in my head. I had been
defeated. This experience followed me for the rest of the day, and if I’m being
honest—many days to follow.
My emotions were high and low—all over the place. It is
almost the end of the school year and the kids know it. Disrespect of teachers from students is in
full swing and it has been hard for me to see any good, which has managed to
drag me down even further. Children are such blessings, why am I not seeing
this lately? This feeling makes me feel like a horrible person and a terrible
teacher. One thing about teaching is that we must hide our emotions all of the
time. The whole “never let them see you sweat” mentality is not only unnatural,
but exhausting. We are humans and I believe our students need to know and see
that. We aren't perfect. We have flaws and we have upsets. This past week my
emotions have been all over the place as a result of personal and school/work
stress, and I wouldn't be surprised if my stinkin’ hormones are part to blame
for this as well. Covering it up with a smile has always been the way, but this
past week I have been unable to do so. I’m not sure why, but it has been quite
freeing to pull the mask down, if even for awhile. Friday, moments after my
coworker left for the day, and left me alone in our shared space, the tears
came. At first the tears came slowly and without warning and then there was no
stopping them. I hoped no one would walk in the door at this moment as I knew
there would be no covering up this pathetic display of emotion. As my face
continued to cover with tears, I began wiping my face. A moment of laughter and
a smirk appeared as I noticed that I had been wiping my face with marker
stained hands from a Crayola marker poster making endeavor just moments before
the flood gates opened. My face was now covered with a rainbow of tear streaks.
I couldn't help but laugh at this scene I had found myself in. If there ever
was an appropriate time for the #teacherproblems (hashtag teacher problems)
this was most certainly it.
Yesterday, as I was still feeling inadequate and defeated, I
prayed to God to restore my faith in myself and in my calling to be an
educator. I prayed this prayer in the morning and was answered within the last
hour of the school day. I was working in a Kindergarten classroom when a young
girl walked up to me, looked in my eyes (which had been fighting tears for
days) and told me she was going to make me a book. I had forgotten this moment
until 20 minutes later when this child walked back up to me and presented a
heart-softening, faith-restoring book written on recycled paper. The book read, "I love you Miss Let. You are a good techare. I love being with you. I love you to Miss Let and I no you love me. I love having fun with you." My eyes welled up with tears and I hugged
this little gift from God. A simple book, written on recycled paper was exactly
what my heart needed.
I know I am meant to be a teacher. This is such a learning
process. I am blessed to be surrounded by people who build me up and encourage
me in this profession and a God who loves me enough to send me angels disguised
as children on a daily basis.
During this week of Teacher Appreciation, I can’t help but
think of all of the teachers I have had along my journey through education. I
am grateful to have had teachers who fostered my love of learning and
encouraged me to follow all of my dreams. I pray that I am that teacher to at
least one child I have come in contact with. This is my prayer and my dream.
Be blessed, ya’ll …especially if you made it to the end of
this extremely long blog post.
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