Finally! A Pleasant Surprise!

Well, two weeks later, and I am not sure how much has changed in my classroom. The week of the 31st I finally was assigned and met my mentor teacher. Mississippi state law requires school districts to provide all first-year teachers with a mentor who will help guide the new teacher toward success in the classroom. Mine is a very welcome addition to my routine; she has 38 years of experience in my elementary school, and she just retired in May. She is friendly, willing to help, and obviously very good at teaching. She has been in my classroom several times already, and just having an extra set of eyes is incredibly helpful. It means that I can do more with my instruction. But sometimes her presence shakes my small stockpile of confidence; she has trouble refraining from a harsh, judgmental tone when I make what she deems an "obvious" or "crucial" mistake, such as not having student files prepared with student work or forgetting my grade book for the fire drill. So while I will appreciate her feedback and her experience, I am also aware that she could potentially drive me crazy.

And at this point, it is not a pride issue, but rather a self-preservation issue; I already live in terror everyday that I am a horrible teacher who will ultimately fail at this endeavor. I feel miserable all the time under the pressure. It is ridiculous how long it took to sink in, but I realized at the end of this week just how much responsibility rests in my hands alone: I am the only one teaching Language Arts to the third graders at Oliver, so every single one of their state test scores at the end of the year is on me. Third grade is the first grade with a high-stakes state test, so in some ways we are completely starting from scratch. I have a handful of students who are already on track to do wonderfully without me, but what about the vast majority of them? A minute does not pass when I ask myself: how can I DO this??

We had a fire drill last week that was an unreal mixture of experience. I tried to contain my class in an orderly, non-chaotic fashion as the bell sounded, but panic is the only emotion that students seem to experience as soon as they register the fire alarm. It doesn't matter how many times they have practiced; all they remember is the opportunity for frenzy. So my kids fight the urge to bolt out of my classroom as I restrain them into the best sense of order I can muster. They still rush for the doors, excitedly approaching the prospect of time outside...and then come skidding to a stop at the edge of the pavement as they realize that the grass they are now suposed to encounter is still wet with dew. All 26 bodies freeze in a new kind of panic, this time at the prospect of wet shoes, and my students refuse to advance any farther, creating a dangerous jam at the exit doors. I select a few to physically drag forward, amid fervent protest, and eventually the whole class is on the grass against their will. And of course playing and shouting and general disorder ensue as students overcome their dislike of wet and remember their love of outdoors--especially when they should be learning. Containing their glee in a classroom is hard enough, but what do you think happens when you are in a huge area perfect for play? Answer: one of my more unpleasant experiences as a teacher who is supposed to maintain order. But really, only if my principal is nearby to witness my lack of control, or if one of the kids manages to hurt themselves. Otherwise, what is the harm in them getting out a little energy?

Answer: one of the more shocking experiences to date. On the way back into the building, my students encountered a frog in the grass, which is something that immediately peaked their uncontrollable interest. I suppose in some cases that is ok and even perfectly natural, as long as they eventually leave the thing alone. Instead, my kids would not rest until they had collectively stomped the poor creature to death, and I was powerless to stop such an overwhelming surge of student activity. If there was ever a moment I wanted to pick up my things and leave this job behind, it was then. I don't care how anyone else can justify their actions--to me those students demonstrated a deeper understanding of cruelty than any child should ever encounter, and even now I am disturbed by the experience. What kind of kids am I teaching??

In observance of the 9/11 anniversary, I spent two days talking to my kids about peace, heroes, and the freedoms outlined in the Bill of Rights. I knew I would be one of the few teachers in the school to acknowledge the day, so I also knew that I could potentially cross into controversial territory. Rather than shying away from it, I jumped in wholeheartedly and I decided to push the issue as far as I could. I have never avoided the issue of race or equality in my classroom, even though I am not at all sure of the specific undertones for this particular body of students and their families. TFA has trained us to be overly-sensitive to diversity, but my approach has been a little more direct while also maintaining respect, confidence, and humility. My students know that I approach it without fear, and many of the parents I have met seem to respect me for it. But I honestly did not know how my 9/11 assignment would be received: I told my students to interview their parents, asking them about 9/11, being an American, and what peace meant to them. I had one student who immediately asked for another assignment, saying his mother would "whoop him" if he did not have any "real" homework. I did not back down, but when he came to school the next day without his homework, saying that his mother had refused to talk to him about "an issue that doesn't matter and that he has no right to know," I decided I couldn't count it as a homework grade. To punish him for not doing it would be unfair, but I also did not want to disregard the assignment altogether, especially when the general response was unbelievable.

I have a persistent problem with getting students to turn in their homework, and many of them have much lower grades because of it. But the enthusiasm with which they did the peace assignment was incredible. From the moment they entered the door in the morning, my students nagged me all day about their homework, wanting to share their parents' answers and the drawings they had made to go along with them. The answers were lengthy and detailed, and the drawings were insightful, colorful, and inspiring. Granted, I still had a spotty homework turnout, but the excitement was impossible to ignore and was beyond anything I imagined. I was touched by the support implied in the parents' responses and encouraged by my students' enlivened interest. I had made the assignment as a last-minute decision without any real expectation of success, but now I find myself wondering how I can tap into that power on a more regular/larger basis.

I have one special ed student who has never turned in a single assignment for me. Imagine my surprise when I found his completed peace assignment in my stack....