Reflection Blog

In the parking lot of Wal-Mart last night I bumped into a former tenth grade student of mine, a girl who dropped out back in October just three months into the school year. She had gotten into several fistfights during those three months, one in my room, and was failing all of her classes, including mine. She could barely read, was late to class every day, and had at least one child to my knowledge. We didn’t have any problems, but neither did we have any sort of relationship besides the typical student-teacher. Basically, I never got to know her and I feel that she never got to know me.I said hello with a little apprehension, as she was with what appeared to be her friends and wasn’t sure if she would even recognize me. She did. She ran over with a huge smile and gave me a hug. We talked about the class a little, she repeated again and again that she plans on going back to school next year and eventually graduate and then she went back to the her cereal aisle and I went to look for orange juice.

That brief interaction is a good point to begin a reflection. Seeing her, I thought of my classroom back in October and how much it had changed since then; how much I, too, had changed. I wished silently she could have been there through the year, to benefit from this change, as I was overwhelmed and burnt out every day from August 1 practically through ‘til December break. Those days, I woke up with ‘the dreads’ every morning, mechanically throwing on wrinkled clothes and rushing out the door. Some days I had a lesson plan, some days I had something resembling a lesson plan, some days I had nothing at all but a few ideas. Every day I was still exhausted, out of breath and barely awake by the time the bell for first period rang. I would barely survive period by period, routinely coming face to face with situations that I hadn’t anticipated and having to improvise on the spot. It was exhausting, and I would check my watch in a frenzy every five minutes. When the final bell rang, I would try to run around to the different offices in our school to try and turn in all the paperwork I needed or ask all the questions I had before they started locking the school – which happened pretty much right away. I’d go to football practice, which would be frustrating at times but definitely a reprieve from the day, and get out with just enough time to eat, shower and attempt to grade/plan for the next day … which often resulted in me falling asleep on some floor or couch with unfinished work to do. I had no social life, and I was always stressed out.

As the year progressed, I stopped worrying about all of the ridiculous things I was asked to do by my school and became more efficient in my lesson planning. Football ended, so I was granted more time to work with students after school. Because of this, and a conscious effort on my part, I got to know all of my students better through the winter months. I gave them rides home, visited with their families, called often and did as much in the community as I could. I invested myself more in them, and as a result a lot of my problems in class eroded. I relaxed, and so did they in response. I was still very busy, but not overwhelmingly so – at least not all of the time. By the time spring rolled around, I had built a strong relationship with most of my students, some more so than others, and several school and community members. I smiled more, ate breakfast more, slept in my bed more and was even able to exercise from time to time. I still never ironed. I realized how much of the kids behavior is a reaction to my own vibes, or emotions, or level of preparedness. I lightened up considerably, and stopped taking everything so personally. By the time the end of the year came, I was actually very sorry to see them go. I had made the difficult decision to leave several months ago, and was excited about next year, but nevertheless it was heart-breaking to think how far I had come with them, the school and with myself … only to leave. I’ll miss sitting with CW at lunch every day, asking me “Where da guac at?” or “Am I on mute still?” and then pulling 4-5 hamburgers he had stolen out of his pants pockets. I’ll miss QR sucking her teeth and rolling her eyes at me one minute, then laughing and telling me she loves me the next. I’ll miss making fun of the kids, and them making fun of me. That right there might be the biggest difference between the beginning of the year and the end, we started laughing more. I hated to tell them I was leaving. I felt like I had betrayed them, that I was going to be seen as a phony and all I accomplished over the year would be wasted. But I’ve seen students around town since then, have talked on the phone to others, and feel like they understand, somewhat.

There were a few specific things that I wanted to touch on in this blog, prompts from Ben.

How do you prevent first-year burnout? Nothing new; prioritize, manage your time, and be flexible. Relax, learn to laugh at yourself and not take things so personally or seriously, and find small ways to make every period of every day enjoyable. Getting to know your kids really well will help tremendously in that regard. There are the usual tips; try to sleep at least 5-6 hours per night, eat three meals a day, and have some outlet (television, books, exercise, music) that is not school or MTC related. You can’t do it all, but by caring and being there to simply talk and listen to your students you will be helping them in significant ways.

How to deal with difficult administrators...This is a tough one. I had a very, very difficult administration. I didn’t deal with them well. I have never been great with authority figures, particularly when I don’t respect them or what they do. Repeatedly throughout the year, our admins made decisions that I saw as either completely arbitrary or directly harmful to the students and the school as a whole. Rather than listing all the reasons they were miserable, I’ll just say I can’t come up with anything good they did. I was confrontational at times; that didn’t work. It only made my life more difficult. Sometimes, I guess, you have to smile and nod or just keep your mouth shut.

Some things I learned this year … I would say to live in the community that you teach at, and in the neighborhood if possible. This goes along with getting to know your kids as much as you can, and them trusting you and feeling that you genuinely care about them and are not only trying to help them but will help them – sometimes despite of them. And get to know your problem kids first. However you do it, by getting them to come after school or pulling them out into the hall during class or grabbing them quickly before or after class – just build that rapport as quickly as you can. Be genuine. You should care about these kids the most, because if they are acting out then in some manner they need more than most of the other kids. Call home, often. Get to know parents as well as kids. Get involved in the school and community. Go to parades, eat and shop where your students’ families do, get gas near their homes, go to their games and shows – I loved seeing my kids outside of school, and they love seeing you too. And finally, no matter how hard it is, it always gets easier. You will want to quit almost definitely at some point. Well, you knew it would be hard. Just keep on getting out of bed, keep on smiling and before you know it the year will be over and you’ll have learned much about yourself, probably much more than you were able to teach.