Sometimes I wonder how much longer I will be able to continue teaching. I am not working towards a pension, nor am I necessarily working in order to survive. I teach because I truly enjoy it and I do believe that each year, I am better at it. Every time I change grade levels or schools or countries, I feel myself stretching and growing. And yet, I wonder how much stretching and growing I have left in me.
Today was a day. I remember when my husband was in his final five years of teaching, he would come home, perhaps a little frustrated with the work, or the politics or the people. I would always ask, "How was your day?"
More often than not, his reply would be the same, "It was a day." I did not really understand what he was saying; that is, until today. There just seemed to be a pile of "stuff" going on that led to my gradual high anxiety level.
I arrived earlier than normal and was marking some student work. It was 6:55 a.m. and I got a phone call that the principal needed the names of the children whose work was in the art show last week. As my classes were the only two represented in the event, she wanted to give them a shout out during morning routine.
I hesitated. Not because I could not remember their names, I just couldn't remember all of their names, and I did not want to leave anyone out. I asked, "Is it possible to do this tomorrow?"
Her response was, "No. I want to do it today."
Deep breath. Okay, I will see what I can do. At 7:00 I had to be on duty in the downstairs hallway, so I took a sticky note and listed the names of the children I could remember. Then, just as my duty ended and morning routine started, I quickly polled the children to find out whose work had been included in the art show.
Sure enough, I had left out two names and was quickly able to write them on the list and then send it via a very responsible student to the principal, who by now was just saying good morning to the students. Long story short, the appropriate children were recognized and the morning was off to an interesting start.
Now Mondays are the most hectic for me, as I have one period off out of eight and also have two duties. So it is rush here, rush there, keep the students focused, keep myself focused and just be in the moment. Sounds easy, right? Wrong.
All went pretty well until period four, when I had another teacher coming in for a peer observation. The class was an English class and most of the students were working hard. I was reading with small groups...did I mention that the teaching assistant was absent? So the teacher/observer turned into a teacher/teaching assistant. As the noise level rose I could feel my pulse begin to race.
No problem, though, the reading class was soon finished and we moved on to writing. But that time the other teacher had left and the students were a little stir crazy. We eventually finished the class with many reminders to "shhh" and focus and work. I guess they had been so good for the guest teacher that they relaxed and let themselves bubble over with enthusiasm.
Then it was recess time. This 20 minute time slot is full of running and poking and kicking and shoving. I spend every minute either asking children to "be nice" or telling them to take a "time out" on the bench. In the middle of recess I saw from a distance a grade one child tumble down a flight of concrete steps (only about six steps in all).
In a panic to "save" him (i.e. my lifeguard days) I ran to see if he was alright. No kidding, he just jumped up and brushed himself off and carried on with playing. I asked if he was hurt. He replied that he was fine. I commented that he must be made out of rubber, because he bounced. As I walked away from that scene I took a deep breath and nearly burst into tears.
The final straw was when I went back to class and my favourite group of students were getting ready to do their classwork while I read with small groups. Coming from the room next door were the chants of the Quran class, which are played a full volume on the speakers. This has happened many times this year and I have a student who goes quietly to ask them to please close the door. She returned with the message that the door could not be closed because the classroom smelled. Go figure!
That same girl suggested that we watch a space video. I previously had told this class about a video that I had seen where the female commander gives a tour of the International Space Station. In desperation I agreed and happily realized that the video was 25 minutes long, just about the length of the class. I sat down with the children and enjoyed the tour and afterwards shared with them that when I was their age, I had wanted to be an astronaut. Surprisingly, after that little bit of space time, I felt better.
The video class then worked itself into a writing class and all of the children were working hard to complete their spelling and writing assignments. At the end of the day this class usually goes to the library, but since that space was not available, the librarian came into our class, read a book and proceeded with silent reading, followed by paired reading.
As I sat back and really looked at the children, I marvelled at how far they have come along. Every child in the class was actively engaged in their buddy reading opportunity and they looked like they were having fun! I took a deep breath and gave a sigh of relief that the day was about to end.
So, when my husband finally contacts me (he is now offline visiting our daughter in Texas) and asks me how this day was, my reply will be either, "Read my blog post!" or "It was a day..."
Until next time, keep breathing and
Bee Rich
Today was a day. I remember when my husband was in his final five years of teaching, he would come home, perhaps a little frustrated with the work, or the politics or the people. I would always ask, "How was your day?"
More often than not, his reply would be the same, "It was a day." I did not really understand what he was saying; that is, until today. There just seemed to be a pile of "stuff" going on that led to my gradual high anxiety level.
I arrived earlier than normal and was marking some student work. It was 6:55 a.m. and I got a phone call that the principal needed the names of the children whose work was in the art show last week. As my classes were the only two represented in the event, she wanted to give them a shout out during morning routine.
I hesitated. Not because I could not remember their names, I just couldn't remember all of their names, and I did not want to leave anyone out. I asked, "Is it possible to do this tomorrow?"
Her response was, "No. I want to do it today."
Deep breath. Okay, I will see what I can do. At 7:00 I had to be on duty in the downstairs hallway, so I took a sticky note and listed the names of the children I could remember. Then, just as my duty ended and morning routine started, I quickly polled the children to find out whose work had been included in the art show.
Sure enough, I had left out two names and was quickly able to write them on the list and then send it via a very responsible student to the principal, who by now was just saying good morning to the students. Long story short, the appropriate children were recognized and the morning was off to an interesting start.
Now Mondays are the most hectic for me, as I have one period off out of eight and also have two duties. So it is rush here, rush there, keep the students focused, keep myself focused and just be in the moment. Sounds easy, right? Wrong.
All went pretty well until period four, when I had another teacher coming in for a peer observation. The class was an English class and most of the students were working hard. I was reading with small groups...did I mention that the teaching assistant was absent? So the teacher/observer turned into a teacher/teaching assistant. As the noise level rose I could feel my pulse begin to race.
No problem, though, the reading class was soon finished and we moved on to writing. But that time the other teacher had left and the students were a little stir crazy. We eventually finished the class with many reminders to "shhh" and focus and work. I guess they had been so good for the guest teacher that they relaxed and let themselves bubble over with enthusiasm.
Then it was recess time. This 20 minute time slot is full of running and poking and kicking and shoving. I spend every minute either asking children to "be nice" or telling them to take a "time out" on the bench. In the middle of recess I saw from a distance a grade one child tumble down a flight of concrete steps (only about six steps in all).
In a panic to "save" him (i.e. my lifeguard days) I ran to see if he was alright. No kidding, he just jumped up and brushed himself off and carried on with playing. I asked if he was hurt. He replied that he was fine. I commented that he must be made out of rubber, because he bounced. As I walked away from that scene I took a deep breath and nearly burst into tears.
The final straw was when I went back to class and my favourite group of students were getting ready to do their classwork while I read with small groups. Coming from the room next door were the chants of the Quran class, which are played a full volume on the speakers. This has happened many times this year and I have a student who goes quietly to ask them to please close the door. She returned with the message that the door could not be closed because the classroom smelled. Go figure!
That same girl suggested that we watch a space video. I previously had told this class about a video that I had seen where the female commander gives a tour of the International Space Station. In desperation I agreed and happily realized that the video was 25 minutes long, just about the length of the class. I sat down with the children and enjoyed the tour and afterwards shared with them that when I was their age, I had wanted to be an astronaut. Surprisingly, after that little bit of space time, I felt better.
The video class then worked itself into a writing class and all of the children were working hard to complete their spelling and writing assignments. At the end of the day this class usually goes to the library, but since that space was not available, the librarian came into our class, read a book and proceeded with silent reading, followed by paired reading.
As I sat back and really looked at the children, I marvelled at how far they have come along. Every child in the class was actively engaged in their buddy reading opportunity and they looked like they were having fun! I took a deep breath and gave a sigh of relief that the day was about to end.
So, when my husband finally contacts me (he is now offline visiting our daughter in Texas) and asks me how this day was, my reply will be either, "Read my blog post!" or "It was a day..."
Until next time, keep breathing and
Bee Rich
