Anyway, here I am, yet again, bending the rules. While I'm bending the rules, I think it's best to mention that the theme for this Favorite Things Friday is Favorite Movie Scenes.
I'm opting out of that one, merely because I prefer to be truthful in these blogs. If I'm truly honest with my posts, it would be revealed that 98% of my favorite movie scenes are from vulgar, crass, offensive comedies. Rating high among these gems could be, hypothetically speaking of course, The Hangover (too many scenes to mention), Stepbrothers (the drum set, the job interviews, the bunk beds...), and pretty much anything with Adam Sandler, but especially Happy Gilmore (Putt Putt with the clown), Billy Madison (field trip and wetting his pants), and of course Big Daddy (peeing on the building, Kangaroo dance, Hip Hop Potomamus, Scuba Steve.) This, of course, would be hypothetically speaking of course...
So, in order to present myself in a more positive light, I think I'll write about my livelihood, my passion, my lifelong love: TEACHING!
In all honesty, I haven't always known that I wanted to be a teacher. Sure, I played school throughout my entire childhood, but I assumed that was completely normal and contributed it to the influence of my grandmother.
She was a teacher. She was THE teacher, in fact. She was also my best friend growing up. She was my happy place. She was everything that a grandmother should be and all the other things that you might wish your grandmother could be. On top of being Super Grandma, she was also Super Teacher. She taught for about a million years to be fair. She taught in a number of different schools including several inner city areas, particularly Little Rock, Arkansas. She loved her students. She gave them everything she had. They were her happy place I imagine, although she never actually told me that.
Anyway, I'm sure you can tell that my grandmother was a huge influence on me. I remember spending summers with her and working in her classroom as a kid. I remember visiting her students and only now realize that I must have been only about 3 or 4. It is unbelievable to me that I can remember this since I remember so very little from my childhood. I remember helping her to cut lamination in the living room floor. I even remember "grading" addition papers as a child. I remember hanging posters in her room. I remember the blue dye on my hands from the mimeograph machine. I remember so many things about her classroom from over thirty years ago that it's a wonder why I ever even considered other career options, but I did.
Initially, upon entering college, I was certain that I would be an artist. Uh...Yeah...that didn't work out. Who in the world could afford art courses? Seriously? Design I required SEVEN, yes 7, text books, and over $250 in supplies. Since I was paying for my college education and had been quite the slacker in high school, this dream of studying art was quite short lived.
Next, psychology was at bat. It sounded intriguing and mysterious and even a little sexy. Sure thing, I took to it right away. In fact, after completing my basics, three years were devoted to majoring in psychology and minoring in sociology. Courses such as abnormal psychology, developmental psychology, human sexuality, and just about any other course in the weirdness of the human mind kept me engaged and were my calling. Then, like most things, I lost interest.
I got married, had two beautiful children, and learned to type medical transcription during that adventure. This allowed me to have flexible hours and devote my time to caring for my boys. Life was good, but something was missing.
I went back to college and got a teaching degree...like I should have done the first time. However, I wouldn't have changed a thing, now. Waiting until I was a parent to teach has given me insight that is beyond any amount of years in the classroom. My understanding of children and parents could never have been learned through additional years in my career. It took Mommihood to prepare me for the classroom.
It took Mommihood to make me understand first day tears to their fullest...even if the child was in third grade.
It took Mommihood to open my heart to a kid whose only visible qualities were the annoying ones.
It took Mommihood to prepare me for the concerns and frustrations that a parent expresses about their student and his or her lack of performance in the classroom. If I hadn't been a mommy, I might have taken offense to these interactions, but having been there, I understand the sense of helplessness that a parent experiences when facing a conference.
Initially, I was the bright eyed, bushy tailed, and relatively clueless first year teacher. I wanted to be upbeat, positive, and most importantly FUN! I wanted the kids to LOVE, LOVE, LOVE me and everything about me! Oh...how FUN it would be to teach!
As time went on, and I realized that this was 100% ridiculous and pointless, I evolved into the teacher that wanted achievement and growth. I wanted for all of my kids to pass the state test. I wanted to be the teacher that could make this happen by being creative and fun and teaching kids in a way that others might not have discovered. Uh...ok.
Now, I'm understanding there's a balance. I've joined an EXTREMELY UBERSTRUCTURED district. At first, I rebelled. I CRIED every single morning on my way to work. I boo hooed at the thought of spending one more day under lock and key. I hated everything about it. I felt like I was suffocating. I felt that everything I loved about education was being stomped to death right in front of me. I hated it. I really, really, really hated it.
But, deep down, I knew that it was just a phase. I must have known, because I kept going back. I kept going through the motions and learning all of the research based strategies, programs, and techniques that have made this district "The Best and Most Sought After District in the State of Texas." I didn't like it, but I knew I was changing. I also knew that if, after giving it a go, I found out that it was the bullarky that I thought it was, I could always change back to the teacher I had once been. Right?
Well...nearly two years later, I am beginning to see the light. My current teaching assignment is exactly what I needed to help me grow as an educator. I've been pushed in ways that I certainly would not have pushed myself to go, and I am a better teacher because of it. All of the structure, research, training, and rigor has given me a focus. It's true. I lacked focus. I'll be the first to admit. Looking back on some of my very favorite lessons early on in my career, I realize that they didn't at all align to the TEKS. Seriously. They were creative as all get out, but educationally, they pretty much sucked. It breaks my heart to say this, but it's true.
Thank you to my previous principal for the freedom to explore education and to create a strong foundation without fear of making a mistake. Her unconditional love gave me confidence in my abilities. Thank you to my current principal for seeing in me the educator, that I eventually would be when given the structure that I needed. I appreciate you both more than you will ever know.
Reflecting back to my earliest teaching experiences, I realize that I wasn't a total flop. I was an effective teacher before now. I'm certain that I was. In fact, last night, before leaving my classroom, I knew that my Favorite Things Friday post would be about teaching, so I strolled the room taking pictures of things that reminded me of student success stories. I got a bit misty eyed remembering my babies from years ago.
There's the student who truly thought he was stupid. He dreaded homework. His mother dreaded homework even more. He saw me as a nice enough lady, but had no real connection to me. I mean, I was, after all, the opposition. After coming to my after school club, "Power Readers" starting in October of that year, he still wasn't sold on reading...at first. Several months later, he and I became close. He ended up passing the TAKS test and realized just how NOT STUPID he really was. His mom and I are FB friends to this day and exchange emails about his progress. In fact, the first time I returned to the Falls after my move here, I ran into her at the car wash and we talked for well over an hour. I miss that kid. I wish him well.
My Mardi Gras beads remind my of my Katrina student from years ago, who came to me missing a reading foundation. Boy did we have a relationship to build...but we did it. And he's a shining star, commended on state tests, a member of his Junior High band, is involved in multiple school sponsored sports, and is still thought of everyday by the teacher that had him in third grade for two years. According to his FB status, he's visiting New Orleans at this very moment.
More recently, I've bonded with a little girl who just doesn't understand reading...YET. But it certainly isn't because she hasn't tried. She's grown like wildflowers, and I couldn't be prouder of her. She made this for me. It's a coaster for my morning Dr. Pepper.
And then, there are the students that came to my room completely prepared, ready, and eager to face the challenges that lay ahead. However, despite their lack of neediness, they still somehow manage to take a piece of my heart when they leave me.
You see, I love to teach. I love the adventures in the classroom. I love the fast and furious days when there's simply too much to do and not enough time to do it, and all you really want to do is pee. I love the 98 degree afternoon sunlight beating down on me during recess duty. I love plunging the classroom toilet weekly, because 7 year olds don't understand how much toilet paper they truly need. I love the look on a kids face when they've earned 20 hole punches in their behavior card, representing 20 good days, and gets to choose a 10 cent item from my treasure chest.
I love the morning hustle and bustle as the kids roll into the room like thunder, excited to tell you all about their new fish, their brother's birthday party, their dad's stitches that he got last night, the fight that they had with their mom this morning, the scrape they got last night when they crashed their bike, the fear that they have because their dog ran away, the concern because they forgot their lunch money, their excitement over their vacation to Florida next week, the latest episode of Pokemon and SpongeBob, the way the worms were floating in the puddle after it rained, the way their Silly Putty lifts words right off the newspaper, how they saw this boy they don't like at Wal-Mart yesterday, how they ALMOST got killed in a car accident that never happened, how they lost their stuffed animal, how they found their stuffed animal, how the dog chewed up their stuffed animal, their new shoes, their mom's new boyfriend, their empty tummy, the fight they saw at the apartment, their grandmother died last night, they got a new baby brother last night, their sister moved away to college, their mom worked late at Target...
I love the sweet, sweet, precious moments of quiet at the end of the day when they finally go home.
And I love every moment in between, even when I forget that I do.
My educational journey has had twists and turns. It's had loopholes and potholes, and deep dark nasty holes. And it's been a joyride all along, even when I forget how much fun it is.
Thank goodness I finally came to my senses and realized my destiny in time to pursue it.
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