How do I possibly begin to sum up the most challenging, enjoyable and stretching 11 months I just spent as a first year Pre-K teacher? Do I brag about my children's results, lament on my teaching shortcomings, voice my fear of more changes from the administration or share a string of unrelated but heartwarming anecdotes from my children? Each approach paints me, the writer, in a different light. The first paints me as proud (maybe slightly arrogant), the second, humble (maybe slightly insecure), the third, victim (maybe slightly pity-seeking) and the fourth, a storyteller (maybe slightly near-sighted). But as my blog is not meant to impress, but as a means for self-reflection alone, I think I will have to do the rudimentary, but nonetheless holistic format of listing not the lessons I taught this year, but the lessons I learned.
First this year, I learned to laugh when I want to cry. At the risk of sounding like an embarrassingly cheesy hallmark card with a kitten stuck in a tight space on the front, this lesson I list first because while I know the philosophy, my application is less than impressive. As much as I try to present myself to the world as in control of my emotions and above such grievances as crying, the truth is this year, I probably cried more than a handful of times. And definitely more than a handful of times the crying was unnecessary. At the risk of sounding cold-hearted, I must take a moment to clarify that tears are healthful and I can appreciate crying as something that makes us human, as painful as it may be. However, this year I have learned that to cry over a challenge is to admit that the challenge is more of a set back. When my first school closed, I cried a lot. Much more than I would ever care to admit. However, some of my tears were worthy while some were simply foolish. When I cried for the loss of my old co-workers, the memories and attachment I had to the building and the breaking of the team, those tears helped me grapple with the emotions of grief, not over a person, but over a place. However, when I cried out of the frustration in the changes, the apprehension of the newness of the situation and the feeling of being treated unfairly, I was immediately labeling the closing as a setback, not as a new opportunity. Unworthy tears. Had I laughed at my own awkwardness during bus dismissal, trying to find the bathroom in the new building and the passive comments grimaced through less than welcoming co-workers instead, I know my year would have been better. To take a step back when a situation seems so frustrating and view your life as if you were the main character on a sitcom instead of a tragedy, can give so much life to a fatigued body and soul. Next year, I resolve to laugh more at the petty obstacles working in a school can through my way and instead, embrace the humor in human awkwardness.
Second this year, I learned to admire my students, not just respect, but admire. I have never really had a problem admiring my students, never thought of them as incapable or less than their worth; however, I do not think before I got this job that I knew just how incredible my children really are. At an end of year staff party, I was having an intimate conversation with a staff member about how proud I am of certain students and of course, I had to talk about C. C, my amazing student who went from self-inflicting pain on himself to winning the "Most Likely to Become the President" award at our graduation. His academic and behavioral gains have been amazing this year and any insider or outsider can quickly recognize it. However, when talking with this staff member, she mentioned very off-handedly a thought I had never been able to articulate the way she did. She said, simply, but powerfully, "You know, he has overcome so much at just four years old." And it is true. Our children are not just capable of learning how to socialize positively, their academic essentials and table manners. Our children (without our teaching) are capable of overcoming obstacles that most of us cannot even fathom exist. When I think about the defining life moments in my life, the biggest obstacles I have overcome and more, the earliest memories I have of even the slightest obstacles do not even surface until high school. However, every single one of my students has already overcome obstacles that I have never even experienced in my life. Not to put my children in a box of their situation, but to shed life on their power over setbacks, I want to really talk about their home lives. This year, two of my students have verbally told me about watching their parents be physically abused and both of those students had to move to escape. In fact, one of the students saw his sister's father throw a brick inches from his 1 year old sisters head in his rage. Three of my students had a father in a jail for a stint this year, with one of those students watching his father leave and go back to jail for extended stays TWICE in one year. Almost all of my students are in single parent or divorced/not married households, with one student literally spending two weeks with one parent and the next two weeks with the other parent. Not that this is a bad situation in and of itself; but to make matters worse, the parents put their daughter in the middle of their battles and play games with her which are just plain absurd. One student witnessed before four years old his brother be abused so badly that he ended up on life support by his brother's father. One student watched her 10 year old brother smoke weed and get arrested for it. Yes, I said 10 year old. Out of my class, there are three people who may not come into the school because of restraining orders , and all three of the people are the real fathers of the students. Nineteen of my twenty students are under the poverty line. And this is ONLY based on the stories that the children or parents have verbalized to me. Only the stories the students felt safe enough to tell me about. My kids are overcoming obstacles that I have NEVER had the misfortune to face and do not even realize their own power to survive when life tries to bring them down. And for this, my children deserve nothing but admiration. They truly inspire me.
Third this year, I have learned how much I have left to learn. I have had a truly incredible year. My students far exceeding expectations. On average, they are going to Kindergarten ABOVE level in reading and other subject areas and this, is worthy of a quick brag on my part and a humongous brag on my student's part. For a first year teacher, I have been told again and again, I am doing an excellent job. My student data is impressive and my management is not bad, especially considering where my lovelies started. However, the more people compliment me on my successes, the more I feel the guilt for all the places where I am truly, inadequate. The areas where, not out of a lack of hard work, (I promise you I worked more than hard this year), but out of a lack of experience, training and time, did not do my students justice. In all, I know my net output in teaching this year was wholly positive, but I cannot help but wonder how much more my students could have achieved under my instruction if I had more training, experience, time and rest. How much higher could their data skyrocket? How much more maturity could they exhibit while interacting with others? While this train of thought can be extremely dangerous, especially considering that in actuality, you can always do more, I think it is important as a teacher that I know that this first year must be my worst. While I am so proud of my gains this year, if my gains are the same next year, I should be ashamed. As if in my first year, I reach the peak of my teaching potential, I am doing my students a huge disservice. However, as long as I can always see that I have more left to learn and am actively pursuing learning and applying it, I know I will be the teacher my students deserve to have.
I can think of about 200 more life lessons I learned this year. From the obvious lessons like, get a full nights rest, to the weirder lessons like, students will go crazy over a make-believe vocab crown, to the ones that are hard to describe like, the facial distinctions between a child who HAS to use the restroom, could use the restroom and just wants to play, I could write books on this stuff. However, for the sake of brevity (relative brevity for me at least) and the sake of simplicity in three simple rules, I will leave it at this.
This will probably be my last post for a bit. Summer started yesterday and I do not have to report back to school until July 11th. Perhaps as the world's way of making me take some time off, I will now know until June 20th what I am teaching next year, which should force me to take some much needed Hannah-time. Summer, as is always the case will enchant and entice me into fantasy world of free time, stress-free sleep and being romanced by the things in life I will surely take for granted, like the warm sun on my skin and heavy rainfalls lulling me to sleep in the mid-afternoon. However, I know once I am fully immersed in the ecstasy of summer, it will leave me once again, so I have given myself a simple homework assignment for this summer. Enjoy it. Therefore, speak to you again in mid-July.
“We live by our imagination, our admirations, and our sentiments.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson
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