To write about this experience as a whole is somewhat daunting, because it’s totally untruthful to approach it from just one angle. I’ve read past “1200 Word Entries” and am inspired by Hayley Hill and Karl Mill, who both took several different approaches and viewpoints to describe their experiences. This is my attempt at something similar, along a timeline. I'll probably contradict myself along the way, but that's just the nature of my experience.
Early June 2009:
I just graduated college, and I came down here knowing that I wanted to be a teacher for my whole career. I didn’t have an education degree and my undergrad education was expensive enough that I couldn’t justify going to grad school to learn how to be a teacher. “This MTC thing is a sweet deal!” I thought to myself. While all my friends were in the midst of crises surrounding unemployment and hazy futures, I knew that I had a definite plan for the next two years. James and I packed everything up in my Jetta and hit the road. I honestly hadn’t thought much about how what I was going to be doing was tough or unique. I knew I was a teacher (or destined to be one) and that was all that mattered. The only thing that scared me was that I was placed in Math, and I always wanted to teach English. Math was NOT my thing.
Summer School:
I began to get panicky right off the bat. The lesson plans, differentiating instruction, re-learning math concepts, classroom management- my head was spinning. It became clear that a strong personality wasn’t enough to keep you afloat here, and even if it did, mine was hiding somewhere inside my trembling newbie teacher self. I lacked confidence, was too quiet, and made super-boring lesson plans. Classroom management was nonexistent since we had a maximum of five kids. I cringed when I saw a video of myself teaching. It was one of the more painful things I have ever seen. Besides feeling totally incompetent, I was also busy from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed. Lesson planning took up all my time, and I didn’t get out much to socialize. My teaching improved after a while, but I still felt like I had just signed up for a two-year lesson in humility. (I wasn’t wrong about this.)
First year, first semester:
I started out the way I was told- strict rules, no wavering. I put up a tough front (um, I was a scrawny, frilly-skirted 21-year-old, and it seemed necessary!) but they could see right through me and pushed back every single day. Come October, I was completely exhausted and drained from handing out consequences every minute of every class period. James and I settled into a steadfast pattern: come home, make pasta for dinner, watch a movie, go to bed at 9:30. My morning commute was 40 minutes long, sometimes more with traffic, and I had to leave the house by 5:45 just to be safe. In the afternoon, it took me at least an hour to get home, stuck behind people going 10mph under the speed limit on Goodman. After-school activities and tutoring were not an option unless I was going to get home well after dark. Eventually, I gave up on the 100% enforcement of rules. Things didn’t really get better. I did devote more class time to teaching, but eventually we slipped into a pattern where the students were good, then got gradually louder until I got upset with them and it repeated. Not exactly a managed classroom. When I went home for winter break, I felt totally drained and like I never wanted to go back. I had very few good relationships with students, and imagined that none of them cared for me. I would get frustrated to the point of tears about how much I tried to help them and how much they trampled over that care. On the last day of school before winter break, a student brought in his Playstation to play during our REQUIRED Christmas party during 3rd period. I refused to let them play since I didn’t have an administrator’s approval, and instead played the movie Elf which I had gone out to buy the night before, along with snacks and drinks. My homeroom class vacuumed up the food and drinks, then complained the entire movie because they had seen it before. Not a single one thanked me. I unleashed a hotly emotional speech about gratitude and selfishness. They laughed.
All this semester, I found my MTC classes frustrating, mostly unhelpful, and work that was unnecessary given my mental state. Sometimes, though, it proved a nice distraction from working toward school 24/7. The real value in Saturday classes was in seeing my friends and classmates. It was always nice to share and see how we were all, for the most part, in the same boat.
First year, second semester:
I honestly have no idea how or why it happened, but something changed between me and my students. Yes, they were still intentionally disrespectful and rude sometimes, but somehow we formed a civil relationship. Many of my students told me how much they liked my class, but had always hated Math. On the Spring MAP tests, my kids scored highest for math in the whole school. I came home proud and put the scores on my refrigerator. I called my parents and told them that I had accomplished something. Kids started hugging me in the hallway, which I accepted since it was a nice change of pace from the attitudes I was used to. This semester, I decided to start getting more creative with my lessons, which was fun for the kids and myself. I even made up a silly song for them on the guitar and sang for them. The kids liked me, I liked them, and the year finished smoothly, which was a miracle. My administration was falling to pieces, we had no substitute teachers, and classes would become overrun with surplus students from absent teachers’ rooms. I had maybe a dozen planning periods total in the last nine weeks, and my patience was spread thin. It was these babysitting periods, where I was seeing the same class for the third time that day and decided to show a movie version of the book from their reading class, that really killed my momentum for the day. Luckily, I had become great friends with Hayley, one of two other MTC teachers at my school (both were second-years) by this time, and she and I kept each other sane. At the 8th grade completion ceremony, I cried a few tears at the student slideshow. I knew I would miss my first batch of students, and at this point only held fond memories.
Second Summer:
In all honesty, I felt little to no connection with my Summer School class. I was excited about helping the first-years become better teachers, but my own teaching was put on the back burner. We were up at school so infrequently that I never learned all the students’ names. I know I should have done better modeling, but I was utterly exhausted. What I needed was rest and time to process my first year. My biggest pleasure was going to yoga with Golda every night. We spent so much time in downward dog that summer, and it was an excellent antidote for the past year.
Summer “Vacation”:
I knew what was best for me, so James and I only took a 2-week vacation before going in to school to prepare our classrooms and curriculum for most of July. While we were enjoying the sun and food in Austin, Texas, I got a call from my new principal. Did I want to know how my kids did on the state test? Why, yes I did. It turns out that the kids I spent so much time battling had outperformed every other grade and every other subject. I was as surprised as I was proud- I had the highest QDI in the whole school?! It was another moment where I could see the benefit of what I was doing, call my parents, email my friends, and feel good about myself. It turned into lots of momentum for my 2nd year, and I had tons of great lessons lined up for the beginning of the school year.
My Second Year:
Right from the beginning, I knew this year was different and better. The kids didn’t fight back about my rules and we quickly settled into a casual classroom with lots of fun activities. My kids were far from angelic, but they came in knowing who I was and with at least some respect for me. What took almost the whole year to accomplish in my first year took a couple of weeks with my new batch: we liked each other. The whole year has honestly been immeasurably easier than my first. There is so little to share, which is a good sign. The kids and I have fun, but always work bell to bell. James and I moved to Olive Branch, so we have a 15-minute commute instead of a 40-minute one. I stay after school to tutor, I coached an amazing season of track with DK, and I spend lots of time with my Byhalia Middle School colleagues. Hayley and I joined a gym, and spend lots of time getting rid of anxiety through cardio. I feel like I have my life back, and school is just a (very important) part of it now.
The future:
I know I could stay in Byhalia and continue to teach 8th grade. I feel like a sell-out giving up my job and asking someone else to do it for me, since I know how much work needs to go in to do a good job. However, I’ve come to realize how important my happiness is, and I feel like the time is right for me to leave. I had one rocky year and one great year, and I can leave with good feelings about my job and my students.

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