Out with the Old, In with the New

After 7 weeks of serving as a long-term substitute teacher for a high school Spanish class, my next adventure awaits. I have recently been offered a position at the Cincinnati Zoo & Botanical Garden, and training is set to begin on Thursday. I don’t think the fact that I have this amazing opportunity has fully hit me yet, but it will soon. All I can think about is when I was young, and my dream job was to be a zoologist. I’ve grown up loving animals, and I’ve come to enjoy teaching. Now, I’ll get to combine the two at one of the best zoos in the country.

While I am happy to be going in this new direction, I admit that I will miss many of the students I got to know. One boy gave me a package of Birthday Cake Oreos yesterday morning. Several other students hugged me, saying they didn’t want me to go or that they would miss me. It will be strange to not go in on Monday morning, to not have to worry about planning Spanish class lessons. There is the possibility of me serving as a substitute on my off days with this new job, but I don’t believe I will end up in the same position again. I hope I left a good impression with the students, and I’m happy I was able to have such an experience.

I look forward to sharing my adventures at the zoo, and I honestly cannot wait to have a uniform with the CZBG logo!

Colorless

I was born in a Mexican-influenced community. While I couldn’t speak Spanish, my parents, teachers, and most of my friends could. My dad was Mexican, but the characteristics I inherited are subtle, like my nose and eyes. Where I lived, there was a range of skin tones, but I rarely noticed. Until I got older, I never considered differences in skin color and how that could influence behavior. When I think about how I was raised and how I viewed the world, I believe the best way to describe how I saw my home is by saying “colorless”. I must have been aware of how light I was in comparison to my best friends, but I must have not cared. I considered, and still do, myself to be Hispanic, and I didn’t think my external appearance mattered. There are times now when I feel like a poser because my skin isn’t brownish and my ability to speak Spanish is basic, but I quickly push those feelings aside. The reason I bring this topic up is because, as a teacher, I have the potential to be exposed to a diverse group of students, and I wonder how other teachers embrace it.

While in Maine, I was surrounded by a Caucasian-majority population. It didn’t often become apparent to me, though, unless someone tried to pronounce my name and butchered it. Where I am now, the school is rich in African American and Guatemalan students, with Caucasians being the minority. As I said before, until I was older, I never considered skin color to be influential upon behavior, but it could certainly be argued now. I love my diverse classes. They make me realize how much of a bubble I was in throughout high school and college. My black, or African American, students (I am unsure of which they prefer) are loud but proud. There are girls in one of my classes who break out in song or dance, and I find it amusing. Just today, one of my boys tried to teach me a handshake, and I completely messed it up. When he showed me how it was supposed to be done with a classmate, I said I wasn’t coordinated enough. Yesterday, one of the girls had her birthday, and she walked around with $1 bills pinned to her shirt. I asked her what it was for, and she said it’s a tradition, that it’s done in the ‘hood. I didn’t entirely understand, but she didn’t find my confusion insulting. She and her friends tried to explain, and I eventually just nodded and said “Okay”. My Guatemalan students are fewer in number, but they are sweet and try their best to communicate in English. Every day, I am immersed in a sea of different backgrounds, and I wish I could know more. But I wouldn’t know where to start.

In society today, discussing race almost seems taboo. Either whomever you converse with won’t show any signs of a reaction, or they will become upset or uncomfortable. It’s as though remarking on the skin color of an individual goes past skin deep and acknowledges behaviors, home lives, work ethic, and societal ranking, which is not how it should be at all. As a teacher, I want to be able to interact with my students, regardless of their appearance. I want them to know that I have an interest in their community, that I don’t think there should be invisible barriers. Most of all, I want them to realize that I care about them, both as individuals and students. I wonder what it’s like for teachers that have taught in less diverse areas for an extended period of time to be exposed to the opposite. Is there a culture shock? Or no reaction at all? While I may have seen the world as “colorless” when I was young, I no longer do. However, the color I see now is beautiful and fascinating, and it only makes me want to learn more.

One Week Left

After losing Tuesday through Friday to snow and cold temperatures, tomorrow marks the beginning of my last week as a long-term substitute Spanish teacher. If you were to look back at the first couple of posts I made after starting the position, you would think I’d be jumping for joy and tearing up in happiness at the fact that I only have 5 more days left. However, the fact is actually bittersweet.

I would be lying if I said this hasn’t been a challenging job, pushing my limits in ways I didn’t anticipate, but my fondness for many of the students has grown. I have started to enjoy seeing a number of them each day, and it will be strange to not see them anymore. They haven’t made teaching easy, but they have shown me why working so hard to do it right can be worth it. All I can hope is that, after I have left, some small impression will remain from my time with them. I wouldn’t want to take the place of their true teacher, but my pride as an educator is measured by the effect I have on students, in my opinion. For some, the 7 weeks I will have spent with them shall remain empty and meaningless, which is unavoidable. However, I hope that I have also been able to show many how important education in a foreign language can be, or education in a school period.

When I arrive in the classroom tomorrow, I intend to post student work and St. Patrick’s Day decorations because it is the small gestures that can sometimes count the most. I will also remind them of the incentive I had promised, a reward of some kind for meeting my expectations to the best of their abilities. That reward may be a free period or a screening of a movie that they have interest in. Or it might be something else. My intention is to end this final week on a good note. Of course, this will be following a test that they missed last week. If all goes well, the unit will be finished, and they will be ready to welcome their teacher back on Monday morning. And I will hopefully be preparing for a new job.

Tears of Joy

I cried today. They were not tears of sadness, but I felt embarrassed anyway. I had thought I would be able to maintain my composure until I was alone, but it didn’t happen that way. Instead, I let them fall as my mentor teacher wrapped me in a hug. Today was an emotional day but in all the best ways.

At the end of each of my last classes, I had students fill out an evaluation of me and then gave them each a treat bag, as mentioned in my previous post. I was extremely proud of the reactions to the personal notes. The sixth grade students were all excited. The eighth grade boys who had given me trouble suddenly adopted a new attitude. The seventh graders read theirs aloud and pretended to act like it wasn’t as meaningful as it really was. Sometimes, students just need to be told that they are appreciated, that the individuals that they are represent more than just a robot who follows a schedule each and every day. Later in the day, I read cards signed by my students, each signing in their own unique way. That didn’t push me over the edge, though.

As I prepared to head to dinner with my supervisor before the school holiday concert, I decided to open the gift my mentor teacher had given me. What I found was a card holding cash for my trip home and a scarf she bought from the high school craft fair. I couldn’t hold it all in anymore. I let the tears fall.

The amazing time I have spent as a student teacher cannot be fully expressed in words, but I will try my best. In the beginning, I was terrified. I didn’t think I was doing the right thing, and I worried about having to make my way through 15 weeks. Now, though, I couldn’t feel anymore like I am in the right place. The students I have gotten to work with are inspiring and intelligent, both traits they may not recognize in themselves just yet. My mentor teacher is a successful woman, the best at what she does, and she cares deeply for those close to her. It’s an understatement to say that I will miss them all. After waking up every morning, prepared for what the day will bring in the classroom, I won’t be used to starting a new routine. I won’t get to see the familiar faces every morning that smile and make me laugh with just a word. I won’t get to watch as they mess up the skeleton yet again or make a breakthrough with the Codea app. Over these past few months, they have all become a part of my family, and I don’t know what I will do without them. I fully intend to keep in touch, checking up on how they are every now and then. I don’t know yet whether I’ll return to the area any time soon, but it warms my heart to hear them beg me to stay. It’s impossible to guess how much of an impact a teacher can have on the lives of his or her students and how that can be equally reciprocated unless you experience it yourself. If and when I eventually end up working with another group of students, I won’t forget these, but I will be happy to try, yet again, to help shape lives of the younger generation. It’s what I love to do.

The Favorites

Every teacher has a favorite student. That student may not be the most well-behaved child or the quietest, but there is something about them that makes the job just that much more enjoyable. As I have been progressing through my student teaching placement, I have unknowingly become excited to see some faces more than others each morning, and the fact that I won’t get to see them any time soon after the next 4 weeks have come and gone makes me frown. One boy in particular is someone I will miss greatly, if only because he can make me smile by doing absolutely nothing.

The seventh grade class has asked me a couple of times if they are my favorite class or if I have a favorite student. Of course, my response is: “I don’t have favorites.” And that, of course, is a lie. Would it be a good idea to instead answer with: “Yes, s/he is my favorite for such and such reason…but don’t think I don’t like you, too.” ? I don’t think so. When they asked me today and I gave my usual response, they went on to say that a teacher they had in elementary school had said they were her favorite class but then pointed out that she probably said that to all of her classes. I will admit that their class stresses me out far less than another, but I don’t dislike any of the students I teach, as some have asked me about as well. I have admitted that some students frustrate me more than I would like but that it doesn’t mean I don’t like them. I said, “If it bothered me that much, I wouldn’t come back.” The relationship I have with the students is as honest as I can make it, but there are some things I can’t share because it may cause more harm than good.

To get back to the reason I wrote this post, there was a moment today with the boy I mentioned in the beginning, and I had forgotten about it until just a few minutes ago. During class, students were responding to analysis questions about an activity they had completed the day before. This boy was having difficulty understanding the question, so I went over to help. At one point, he said, “I like science, but I’m probably not going to do anything with it.” I looked at him and asked why he would say that. He answered, “Because I’m not good at it.” This boy has asked me for help on assignments in math and science, and he most recently asked when taking a math test. During this moment, he went on to say, “I’m always having to ask for help. Like yesterday.” This was when I looked at him and told him that there is nothing wrong with asking for help. The boy next to him then said, “I would like science more if we did fun labs like the one yesterday.” The student I was working with turned and spoke to his classmate: “You can’t expect every class to be a lab. There are other things we need to learn how to do.” I don’t know if he said this for my benefit, to make me think that he didn’t believe a fun lab was needed every class, but all I wanted to do at that point was hug him. But I didn’t. I instead just smiled and told him, “Don’t let having to ask for help keep you from doing what you enjoy. Getting help now will only help you in the future.”

This boy is adorable and does the oddest things. When he is happy or frustrated with something, he throws whatever is in his hands. He doesn’t throw it at anyone, but it just goes up in the air, and he keeps a straight face, as if it were an action he couldn’t control. He laughs about silly things and does his work when I ask him to. He used to wear a thin headband around his head, on top of his hair, as if it were a very small sweatband, and it was some kind of pinkish color. When he received his progress report for the first time this year, he thanked me, among his other teachers and mother, for believing that he wouldn’t fail. None of this may seem extraordinary, but these small things have made him a wonderful student to have in the classroom. I realize that this kind of thing will probably happen again, wherever I end up after, but I don’t think it will get any easier. I am hoping that I will be able to keep in touch with my mentor teacher and, through her, these amazing students I have had the pleasure to get to know.

Leaving the Classroom at School

As I sit in my room tonight, forgetting the difference between relaxation and boredom, I type into Google something about welcoming error in the classroom. Countless times, I have had students in each grade I work with beat themselves up over not knowing something or feeling like there is a problem for not offering the correct answer. It upsets me that they have had teachers before that do not welcome mistakes as a part of the learning process, so I am trying to figure out how to make it normal in my classroom. One would think that I might give myself a break for one night and enjoy the upcoming weekend, but I don’t remember how.

Those who are unfamiliar with the life of a teacher do not realize that it is not a job. It’s not something you go to for 8 hours a day and get to leave at your workplace, making sure it doesn’t get mixed up in your personal life. Having no school during the summer doesn’t mean no work, either. It just means more time for learning more content knowledge or better methods for meeting the standards. Even though I am only a student teacher at the moment, I cannot separate the life I lead at school from the life I lead at home. When I lie in bed, silently waiting for sleep, my mind thinks of topics that I could use for science class or differentiation I could implement in math. Students often get off at the end of the week with no homework, but I don’t need to be reminded of all that I can work on when not dressed in a button down shirt and sensible shoes. That’s because it stares me in the face and invades my mind.

A teacher who can leave the classroom at school may not be fulfilling his or her duties in the way that they should. Those who assume that teachers are able to easily compartmentalize their lives are incorrect and in need of enlightenment. It amazes me how vastly under appreciated educators are today, that it has turned into a job to which anyone thinks they can flock to when there is simply nothing else left. It is not a job you just choose because you can’t think of anything better. When you choose to become a teacher, you are dedicating your life to lifelong learning and helping another generation enjoy that feeling, whether it is in the regular, public school classroom or a nature center summer camp. Teaching is not a job. It is a commitment.

Thinking that way makes me happy, even as I collapse onto my bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion from the past week. Although I cannot just enjoy watching anime or sifting through Tumblr without my mind going back to the events of the day during school hours, I am not upset by it. I am thankful. To me, it means that I have chosen the right path.

Sink or Swim

Today was probably one of my least favorite days since I started student teaching. My mentor teacher took a personal day, and I was left to lead 6th, 7th, and 8th grade science as well as the 7th grade math class. While I had done this once before and am already in charge of 6th and 7th grade science, today was different.

I find myself taking deep breaths, as if the past 8+ hours held an oxygen deficiency. My head has a slight ache, and I can still feel the cold tendrils of water that covered my skin at school and let me drown. That’s how I felt when I ran into problems with students not wanting to do classwork. Or when I was given the task of leading a lesson in math, a subject I have very little confidence in. I felt like the ocean had swallowed me, and all I could do was use my energy to stay afloat. After having discussed my dilemmas with fellow student teachers, I realize now that I could have implemented a few methods in order to make my time in the classroom more valuable. But just the thought of how upset I felt in the 8th grade class has yet to wear away.

When a student doesn’t want to do something, how can you get them to? If it’s a behavior that has been presented countless times before, is it worth your time to give it attention or ignore it in favor of students that appear to want to learn? When a boy in the 8th grade class today didn’t want to do his work, I almost decided to just let him not. I figured, if he doesn’t want to do anything, I won’t waste my time teaching him. But it doesn’t seem to work like that. Yes, I could try that once and see what happens, but I can’t expect him to come to school every day and get no work done simply because I don’t have the patience or energy to make him behave. Some would say all there is left to do is send him to the office or give him detention. But I feel like a repetitive act such as those options loses its effect after a few dozen times. Should he then be told to stay home if he doesn’t want to be at school? What would his parents or guardians say? Would that create more harm than good? When I am working with a student such as this one, I wish that I could turn off my empathy and allow whatever may come to happen. But I can’t get myself to let this student sink as I swim away. Yes, he pushes my buttons and gets under my skin very easily, but I appreciate the challenge in a way. I want to know how I can either get him to want to work or to realize that his actions don’t make me upset;they only make his life harder. I want students such as this one to understand that the time and energy they spend complaining about being at school or attempting to make a teacher upset does them no good. Before they know it, they will either become a dropout or end up in high school where their behaviors are less tolerated. They will lose any bit of motivation that was left and drown.

I wish I could have a classroom filled with students who want to learn. But I’m sure I’m not the only one. It would make my life easier in so many ways, but where would I be without a challenge to that desire? Student teaching can sometimes feel like an extremely lengthy swim: most times, I am going at a steady pace and breathing fine, while other times I am losing focus, getting tired, and wishing I could just stop. At this point in time, I am so close to the end, stopping would be counter-productive. So, looking at my choices, I think I would rather swim.

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.