Why Are You Here?

Throughout each science class today, we worked in the school garden, preparing it for the looming winter season. By the end of the day, I was tired but happy. It’s always exciting for me to work with students in a context outside of the normal classroom. During the last block of the day, students outside were getting restless and attempted to act foolishly, either by running around far too much, shoving each other, or kicking pine cones. Eventually, after they settled down, one boy looked at me and asked, “Miss Garcia, do you get paid enough for this?” I looked back and said, “I don’t get paid at all.”

Immediately after my response, the students appeared shocked. They all started asking me: “If you’re not paid, why are you here??” “Do you want me to get your car ready for you to go? (Implying that I probably didn’t want to stay and handle their behavior if I wasn’t even getting a penny for it.)” “Where do you get money?” “Are you jobless?”

No, I don’t like student teaching without any form of payment. It seems unfair to me, putting in 40 hours of work per week, not including time spent outside of the school day preparing lessons or writing reflections for my supervisor. But I didn’t think they wanted to hear me say all of that, so I explained that not getting paid was unfortunate but that I had been working a part-time job on the weekends to make some money. (Of course, that job ended for me on Saturday.) Finally, one student asked me if I was there because I enjoyed it. I admitted that I was there for that very reason.

Some things are worth the time and energy, even if there is no monetary gain attached. The time I have gotten to spend with students, getting to know them at a personal level and having the opportunity to engage them in my favorite subject, is priceless, for lack of a better cliche. I don’t know if they will fully understand that because why would a girl who has graduated college want to be somewhere working when she doesn’t get a paycheck? That’s a good question, but I have my reasons. One girl stated: “She’s here because she wants to be a teacher.” And that is absolutely correct.

Students then went off on tangents, talking about how they would be working at McDonald’s once they were old enough. They asked if I would ever work there, and I said my brother had but I wasn’t planning to. One boy admitted that he thought I looked like someone who would work there and get his order wrong every single time. I guess that answers the question.

I like where I am in my life right now. I don’t know that I would be happy any other place at this point in time. Would I like money for my work? Definitely. Do I need it to keep doing what I love? No. At least, not at the moment.

Rays of Sunshine

Each Sunday evening, I forget that I need to go to bed at a reasonable time in order to be coherent on Monday morning. My post-college mind is still caught up in late nights with friends and sleeping past 6 AM. I dread having to wake up and go to school, and I try, unsuccessfully, to convince myself that calling out one day without having any valid reason wouldn’t be the end of the world. This happens probably every Monday morning. Every Monday, evening, though, I wonder why I even thought of staying home in the first place.

For every problem I run into that leads back to the public school system or the Department of Education, there are rays of sunshine that make all the difference. The happiness I feel when I’m in the classroom every day, listening to students gossip and share adventures from over the weekend, engaging classes in new lessons, is immense and shocks me in a way. When trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life, going to college for a degree I had no clue what to use for, my first thought was not teaching. I couldn’t picture myself doing what my mom does: educating a group of kids on the important lessons used to survive in our world today. I couldn’t imagine having the patience or managing to get myself out of bed every morning. But when I decided to give it a shot, when my student teaching placement finally arrived, I realized that I was wrong all along. I could imagine myself wearing non-jean outfits each day and having to plan dinner one night and lunch the next day at the same time. I could sit through a faculty meeting and understand what was being discussed, sharing my own thoughts when it felt appropriate. When I am at school, I feel like I belong there.

The students have asked me if I plan to teach there, and I, sadly, admit that I won’t unless someone loses their job. My fellow colleagues, as I have come to know them, speak to me as though I am an equal and have expressed that I am “part of the family.” Would I feel this way at any school? I want to say yes, but I don’t think I would. The school I am in is special. It is a small, close community, where students like to share their lives with teachers and teachers care about the success of their students, beyond how they perform in a standardized test. Every day, I learn something new about a 6th, 7th, or 8th grader, and I roll my eyes at least once. They tell me about what feelings they have when in school, both good and bad, and I ask them what they want to learn. Whether this is done by other teacher’s of theirs, I can’t be sure. But they are always willing to respond. I care immensely about students enjoying their time at school. It encompasses so much of their life. It’s only fair. And they repay me by serving as the bright, far-reaching rays of sunshine that make my gloomy days better. I won’t go on about how much I will miss them once Christmas comes around, and I don’t return, but I can say that it will be on my mind increasingly as the days fly by.

A Day in the Substitute’s Shoes

It’s 7:30 AM, and I’m walking into the school building to the classroom I normally occupy, knowing my mentor teacher won’t be there but hoping that a sub was hired in my place, if only because the idea of teaching 6th, 7th, and 8th grade science, plus a math class, seems terrifying. However, it’s just me and a small pile of materials, topped off by a one page lesson plan for the day. I notice there is nothing written for 6th grade. That’s because I’ve already been teaching them for a few weeks. No worries. Following that block of space, several tasks are outlined for both 7th and 8th grade to get done. My first thought is that there is no way we’ll get through it all. And that would be a good thing because I dislike nothing more than having awkward spaces of time when nothing is getting done. Feeling optimistic, though, I list all that we have to do on the whiteboard, so students won’t have to repeatedly ask me what we are doing. (Note: They asked anyway.) With the day organized in my head and for students to see, I only wait.

When the 7th grade homeroom first realized their normal teacher was gone for the day, they were surprised to learn that I would be the sub. That soon turned to excitement. At first, I thought it was because they wanted me to teach. I thought they were excited because a small change in an otherwise stable schedule is a reason to be happy. However, I later learned that most of them assumed it meant they would get no work done. Luckily, I kept that train of thought from getting too far. Today was a day that had me using my “teacher voice” more than I have before. While I am used to teaching 6th grade, they had trouble staying on task. My only solution was to direct them to stay focused with a loud and unwavering few words. I did the same with 7th and 8th grade. Halfway through the day, my throat felt sore. I am not accustomed to speaking loudly, so it’s difficult, but that is one of the best ways to keep students busy.

In general, there were no bad moments. Students weren’t rude, and each one got most of their work done. The 8th grade zipped through my list, but we ended the class in time to have no weird empty spaces. The 6th grade fell short of where I wanted to get them, but it will work itself out. The 7th grade are extremely good at getting themselves off-topic, so I did speak louder to them than the other two grades, but I later admitted that I didn’t mind them conversing with each other if it had to do with work, if only because I hate absolute silence. The math class went alright, made up mostly of 7th grade students. They finished what they were supposed to, but some students took much longer because they didn’t understand and didn’t want to try. If a student is stuck, I want to try to help them. There isn’t much I can do, though, when I’ve practically given them the answer, and they do nothing.

As the day came to an end, I let out a deep breath I hadn’t known I was holding. I wanted students to get work done, but I wanted more for them to start seeing me as a teacher. Starting next week, I will be teaching both 6th and 8th grade, two drastically different groups of kids. Leading the 8th grade for the first time today, I was afraid that I would spend the entire hour keeping certain students from making rude comments. I handled it all pretty well, though. When students got into side conversations, I spoke directly to them and waited until they continued working. It helped tremendously when an Ed Tech was present. I can’t emphasize enough how amazing it would be to require all teachers to have assistants of some kind. When I worked with the 6th grade, I had the hardest time helping individual students because some needed more direction than others. It occurred to me to move those who needed more help to a separate table altogether, but there was not enough room, and I also had to make sure those students who got done early would have something new to do. Even when I pictured it all exploding in my head, though, nothing went wrong. Students got the help they needed, and anything not finished today can be done tomorrow. I didn’t like assigning so much homework to some of the students, but it wasn’t my choice. Some of them had the chance to finish it before the end of the day, but one boy has to finish homework and classwork he didn’t get done. I wished I could have made it better, but there’s only so much I can do.

After a day like this one, I want to talk to the students and admit to them that I’m not a fan of public school either. When some described the school as prison and that laughter was frowned upon, I thought it sounded absurd, but maybe that’s what some students have learned. It’s hard when I have to take a different stance on education than I believe in, but I can’t freely admit that and expect that it’s okay to have students do nothing because it’s not. Yes, I would like to learn more methods for teaching the skills they need, rather than just reading from a textbook and filling out journals with data that, to them, has no impact on their real lives. However, just making that change isn’t very simple. I don’t want to get off-topic, but I wonder now what substitutes think when they go into a classroom and cover material using methods they may not agree with, or even regular classroom teachers. I don’t know if any educator truly likes raising their voice or threatening detention in order for work to get done. I want the students I’m working with to grasp the concepts they need, but I want to figure out different approaches. In any case, it was a long and enlightening day in a substitute’s shoes.

A System of Frustration

How many educators are actually content with the United States Department of Education? How many go home after a long day and praise the people who ask for more work hours than they are willing to pay? I can say, without even being a certified teacher yet, that I would not be someone doing either of those things.

The reason behind typing this post is in the form of tears that welled in my eyes over the confusion and frustration caused by attempting to file paperwork for subbing. What I assumed would be a simple matter of getting fingerprints taken and filling out an application to be given to the district I want to sub in is anything but. Before I am able to sub for my mentor teacher, I have to send my paperwork to the State and await approval, which could take up to 2 weeks. Then, I am supposed to meet with someone that I do not know who is to finalize my paperwork and give written approval for me to sub. Had I known any of this, I would have begun the process weeks ago. Of course, I want to blame the certification program at my school and get angry at them for not knowing all of this and putting it in the handbook, but I feel like that wouldn’t do me any good. I like the supervisors I have through the program. Maybe they didn’t know that the process had become so complicated. Perhaps I should have done this weeks ago anyway and avoided the negative feelings I have now. Despite anything I could have done to avoid this anger, though, I believe I would have still come up with something to be mad at the system about.

As much as I am enjoying my student teaching experience, I can’t help but get irked over thinking about how many rules and regulations there are to follow in order to teach in a public school. It bothers me that teachers I work with, teachers I’ve come to realize actually care very much about educating young people, could be bogged down by the system at any moment. There are so many restrictions, which may depend upon location, and all I can think about is how much I would love to just teach these same students in a completely different way.

Today, I sat in on some Parent/Teacher Conferences, and I was saddened by the predicament of one girl. She is becoming bored in her math class, and her mom is concerned that she is not able to move into a higher level. While I could understand the reasoning behind the class dwelling on topics she may already know in order to get them to stick with her, I wondered what her personal expectations of school are. Does she expect teachers to be able to accommodate her individual needs, to help her succeed and move on to high school and college? Does she expect there to be consequences if she is going through school without learning anything new? Does she feel like the system is failing her? Because that’s how I felt in those moments, listening to the teachers speak and watching her expression stay neutral.

While this post is purely a rant in order to vent my feelings, I do wonder, every day now, how we could make a difference. What can we do as educators to help students as much as possible without having to seek some kind of approval? Can’t we just ask them what they want to learn, how they want to learn it, and take it from there? I wish it were that simple. And despite these frustrations I have, or perhaps because of them, I am still anxious to be a teacher. I want to have a hand in educating young people about science. As long as I remember that, I can get better at standing against the system.

You’re One of Us!

Living in a family that includes younger siblings growing taller than me, I’m used to hearing comments about being short. The last time I remember growing was in 7th or 8th grade. While I stayed at 5’2”, many of my classmates and my younger sisters surpassed me. My height is not something that bothers me, though. I don’t like being called “short” , but my stature definitely makes buying clothes easier. I don’t usually have to worry about jeans being too long, and some people find those who are smaller to be cute, which I don’t mind. Being an authoritative figure among students who are barely shorter than you or already taller than you, though, makes it a much more attention-drawing issue.

While I’ve been in the classroom, whether as a student teacher or as a service learner, I’ve been mistaken as a student multiple times. I’m not very tall, so I blend in. My outfits also don’t always help. I don’t wear jeans other than on Fridays, but it sometimes doesn’t make a difference. Yesterday, though, was the first time a student asked about my height. We were taking a short walk outside as a class, attempting to relieve some stress before taking a math test. I was walking with one of the girls, talking about how I was the quiet student in school. From behind, one of the boys asked how I felt about having the female student be taller than me. I didn’t respond at first but just smiled. He said I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, that they were just wondering. I said I was used to being shorter, and I didn’t give it much thought anymore. He and his friends proclaimed, “It’s okay. You’re one of us!” I knew they meant I was one of them in terms of looking younger and not being tall, but, the more I think about that phrase, the more connections I make to its truth.

Even as a student teacher, I have had many moments in which the kids I work with have realized that I am not perfect, that teachers can make mistakes or not be sure about something as well. They are beginning to realize that we have a lot more in common than they originally thought. My view of teaching describes it as a life-long learning profession. I could never go into a teaching job completely sure that I know everything, that I could never answer a question wrong. If I am not sure of something, I’d rather take the time to figure it out. To many students, there may not be any connections between themselves and their teachers. Many teachers may never view themselves as students because they are convinced that they are already the expert on their subject. It’s difficult for me to understand how these thoughts are present, though, especially after having so many moments in which I have learned just as much as the students.

Today, progress reports were given to students. One wanted to compare his to mine, assuming I would receive one. I didn’t say I wouldn’t have one because I was amused at the thought of a 7th grader wanting to compare his progress to mine. I’m not sure he knew what I would be graded on, if it would be the same as his or not, but I enjoyed the fact that he saw me as both a teacher and a peer because I’m still learning, too. I ended up telling him and others in the class that I had been observed while teaching on Wednesday, so I considered that my progress report. He asked if I thought I had done okay, and I said I thought so! Other students then chimed in admitting that it sounded scary to have someone watching you, to be evaluated in such a way. I agreed. It was this kind of moment, and many others that have come to pass, that reminded me and my students that I am one of them, even if I don’t dress the same or allow them to call me by my first name. We are all receiving progress reports in one way or another. We can all make mistakes and ask for help. I worry sometimes about teachers forgetting those facts. I worry about them reaching a point when they think they no longer need to improve. If you’re ever at a point when you don’t consider yourself one of the students as well, you might need to think just a little bit more about that.

Soil Percolation, Coyote Mucus, Homesick Tears, and Ort Report

Tiles painted by students for decoration in the lab area of the NPS campus.

Over this past week, I spent 3 days and 2 nights at a National Park Service-hosted camp with my 6th grade students. To many, the phrase “overnight trip with 6th grade” sounds terrifying. When I mention it to anyone who asks how my week went, their eyes get big and they make a face, as if it could have only been a headache. However, the trip in all was inspiring, educational, and full of moments in which I got to know more about the students and they got to see me as more than a stranger.

We left the school at 9 AM on Wednesday and arrived at our location close to 10. We were welcomed by a ranger who was extremely kind but very obviously once taught primary education. I later found out from some of the students that her way of addressing them was annoying. Because being 11 years old is very different from being 5. We shared a packed lunch before arriving at the dorms. Cue students getting excited and taking group selfies because they get to bunk with their friends. I got my own room next to one room of girls, and the sleeping part worked out well for most of the time. There was an incident on the second night, but it was inevitable.

Recounting each activity we took part in would be exhausting and probably not extremely exciting to read. The most important parts to me were ones when I got hugs from students before bed; when students showed me work they had done purely to receive my exclamation of satisfaction; when a student came to me with her concerns; when students were shocked to see me wearing glasses and having unbrushed hair. I loved finding out the interests of a particular student just as much as I loved sharing my own. The time we spent together was productive and quick, and I can see it helping me as I work with them more in the classroom.

Just to explain my title for this post: Soil percolation was done by students as they tested soil samples around the campus. It taught me and them new words! Coyote mucus was from a night hike we embarked on. We were not allowed to use flashlights because it was an exercise in using our senses. On the topic of smell, the ranger leading the group said she had brought a vial of coyote mucus for us to put around our nostrils in the hope that it would enhance our sense of smell. I wasn’t sure if it was real or not but did notice a difference in smelling sweet fern the second time around. Of course, I was really relieved to find out it was just water. The homesick tears were from a student on the last night of our trip, and she exhausted herself after about an hour of heavy crying. I understand that it was bound to happen, and I am glad to say that she seemed much better the next morning. And finally, the Ort Report was done at the end of each meal by rangers. It was a measurement of how much waste there was after breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Students were to learn about portion control and how much food they really would consume. After 5 meals, we ended with 13 pounds, which I don’t think was too bad.

I have to say that, if you ever have the opportunity for an overnight field trip with your students, you should take it. They will be glad to learn in a new setting, and you will all learn more about each other. If I could do the trip over with both 7th and 8th grade, I would. Those 3 days and 2 nights were probably the most fulfilling days I’ll end up having, simply because I learned, students learned, and we all had fun doing it.