In eighth grade, there wasn’t much improvement, but there was more support. My new English teacher, Mrs. Behrens, stayed after school and tutored me. She bought me a grammar flow chart that could be tucked into any three-ring binder. My essays didn’t come back bleeding from red pen stabs. There was a distinct difference between their teaching styles. Driven by resentment for my seventh grade English teacher, or inspired by my eighth grade English teacher, I resolved during this time to become an English teacher.
It was an epic struggle through high school, college, and an internship or two to prepare myself for August 13th, two weeks before the high school fall semester. The accumulation of blood, sweat, tears, coffee, patience, and most of all tears had rendered my first job as a high school English teacher. I was anxious, frightened, and prone to hyperventilating with the thought: standing in front of twenty-five plus teens as their teacher and expecting them to listen to me. Years of dreaming, theorizing, and training, yet I’ve never felt less prepared.
I was hopeful to find veteran guidance at the upcoming new-hire orientations.
All rookies attend mandatory conferences with the local school’s board of directors. The meetings are important if you’re interested in job related information such as payroll, taxes and insurance, vacation, and retirement benefits. The new-hires yawn through the information and sign on the dotted line. Everyone looks forward to the catered lunch and time for mingling. The remainder of the week is spent attending retreats with senior staff members and getting to know each other. The retreat coordinator decided to forgo formal introductions and opted to organizing the faculty in a circle.
“Everyone in the circle has to introduce themselves by using an adjective that starts with the same letter as the first letter in your name! I’ll start! My name is Daring Diane! Now the person to my left has to remember everybody’s name to their right and recite it from memory!”
The senior faculty members groan with enthusiasm. I’m certain they look forward to this activity each year. Personally, I appreciate this part of the week the most because you can always get interesting advice from veteran peers as you don’t pay attention to the events taking place around you. Sometimes, it’s advice to live by:
“My teaching philosophy has always been the person, doing all the work is
the person doing all the learning.”
“Always walk your students through the material so they find the
answers. Don’t spoon feed ‘em! Give ‘em a chance to work it out.”
Some of it is less encouraging than others:
“Don’t turn your back on those little bastards for a second! They’ll
do anything to slip something in your drink. So, invest in a coffee cup
with a secure cover!”
“Sign-up for a teacher’s union, because someone will sue you for
something you probably didn’t do!”
“Run.”
At least we always look forward to enjoying lunch together. Rookies usually congregate around senior teachers unofficially designated as cool. It is a lot like high school, but shouldn’t that make sense? For example, I’m a pariah. It’s nice to have a group to go out with again, but I can‘t always relate to them because most are recent newlyweds. I wanted to start my career then look into this marriage thing. Until then, I faked interest in the conversations surrounding me.
“I had to decide whether I want to be a teacher or a wife, and honestly, my
new husband comes first.”
“I just want to be in education so I can take three months off to
travel and raise a family with my new husband.”
“I just love being a dad.”
God, please keep my eyes from rolling. Two reasons people shouldn’t get into education are money and vacation. The ratio of engaged to single students in the college of education made matters worse. Well, as far as dating prospects went anyways. Worrying about the dating scene didn’t apply to me. I’ve been in love with the same girl for the past five years. She was younger than me and graduated from the college of business.
Her name was Melanie. She had already started her career in sales working for a large and popular computer company. Someday, she was going to be my sugar mama, but not anytime soon. I’d have to be crazy to get married so soon after college and on the cusp of my career. Half-way through the second week of new-hire retreats, she came to meet me for lunch. No more conversations about marriage! What a relief!
I was especially excited to see Melanie today because after introductions and paperwork, the new-hires finally received the keys to our classrooms! This wasn’t the smoothest process when the assistant principal had all the school keys corralled loosely in a plastic box.
“I think this is the key to the school’s main door. Hmmm… this looks like a
room key. No… wait… room keys are more of a brown color. This is like a rusty
gold. I tell ya’ what, Jason…”
“Actually, I’m Josh…”
“Come again?” the assistant principal was surprised at this
revelation.
“Josh, my name… it’s Josh”, I explained, slightly insecure about
correcting an administrator.
“Right, right, right… take this key and if it doesn’t work, come back
and I’ll look again, John.” He hands the key to me. I actually always like
the name John, anyway.
After four trips, I was able to unlock my classroom. It was one of the larger rooms but lacked the windows of the smaller rooms. Antique chalk boards took the place of the white boards I was accustomed to from training. I was too eager to care. I’d go home with chalk dust covering me each day. The desks were stacked and shoved against one wall waiting to be meticulously situated. It was in dire need of dusting. I stood in the center thinking about the previous decade. In a movie, this would be my big “I-made-it” moment.
Then my phone rang into the holy silence of my moment.
It was my, Melanie.
“HEY BABY GIRL! Guess where I am?”
“Hey… We really need to talk.”
Perfect timing! She needed to talk and there wasn’t a better place for us to meet than in my new classroom.
[End Chapter 1]
[Continued in Chapter 2: When it Rains…]
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