Teaching the Teacher

In conclusion…”Sheesh, I’ve got a lot to learn!” The more I teach, the more the questions mount. One thing gets crossed off my list and four more things get added on. One stack of papers corrected, four still waiting on hold in the blue turn-in bin. Ahh, the blue turn-in bin, the bane of my teaching existence, a bottomless pit, in reverse, constantly ebbing and flowing, a war of attrition never to be won, only to be managed. Wow, so many things to remember to do after copying the math activity, but before organizing the library and finding the little needle to pump up the red rubber ball, while simultaneously solving the missing homework issue and feeding the class pond snails. Homework in the blue turn-in bin, your call will be answered in the order it was received.

Overall, I’m pleased with the way the year has gone. I survived the first year teacher gauntlet, though not without trail or tribulation, heartache or suffering, swallowing of pride, minor injury to self, or sacrifice of social interaction. Even through all the lesser and more major bumps, I survived, I’m still pretty good with the ladies, and most importantly, I can tell the tale of my first year teaching.

The year started normal enough. Kids with questions, parents with questions, kids with more questions, and parents with more questions. Procedures to be introduced and expectations to be established, seating arrangement to be made, students to get to know, many things to do, but nothing out of the norm. 

The year continued this way for a while. Parents coming into help, students turning in homework, book reports being written, science experiments being created, artwork being shared, assemblies attended, songs sung, the computer lab utilized, library books checked out (sometimes to be returned), field trips gone on, and problems avoided and problems solved, basically, activities that most second grade classrooms participate in. 

My teaching responsibilities were being met, the students were learning, and parents were happy. Life was good. However, on Thursday, March 6^th, 2008, something very tragic made me rethink my responsibilities as a teacher.

On March 7^th, I arrived to start the teacher in-service day early. It was a beautiful morning, the air was crisp and so refreshing, however the beauty of the day was to be short lived. Upon my arrival to work, I was promptly called into my principal’s office to be informed that the mother of one of my students committed suicide Thursday afternoon. Wow, what to do…what to say? I’ve never known anyone to commit suicide before. What a baffling and empty feeling to have, knowing someone who committed suicide. All day long, I battled with what I was going to say to the class on Monday morning and with what I was going to say to “K” and her family. Hell, I thought my job was just to teach, not to be the giver of such terrible news and the healer of un-understood emotions that no child should be forced to deal with. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Through this incident, I realized that in some ways, I represent whatever is missing in my students’ lives. If daddy is in jail, I in someway fulfill daddy’s void, if mom and dad are divorced, I am the stability that might not be occurring at home, if mom kills herself, and leaves a grieving husband and child, I become that pillar of support and understanding that is now gone forever. 

Through this incident, I realized that I am more than a teacher…I am a purveyor of truth (though not always easy), a listener, a griever, a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, a birthday party organizer, an advice giver and receiver, a jewelry repair person, a father-mother-brother figure, a drill sergeant, a child, a critic, a belt buckle undoer, an inspirer, basically, I am whatever my students or student needs to be. I am a teacher.