Stolen blog-post

Ok, they're not really stolen, except from myself, and I think that's allowed if I give myself proper credit. :) A few of my college friends have started a blog documenting our different experiences in the professional world. I've posted a couple of times to that but have neglected this blog as a result! So I'm just reposting them here in case anyone else reads this. I apologize again because my writing is always so "weighty," as a friend said. I promise I'm not just sitting around philosophizing all the time--in fact, I'd say my number one occupation over the past few weeks, apart from the one for which I am paid :), is eating ice cream. And while ice cream may increase my physical weight, I find it adds a great deal of levity to every other area of my life, which makes it worth it right now.

Here is my most recent two blog posts about my transition into the working world. Again, read with a grain of salt, given what I said above about my writing tendencies:

TOUGH LOVE
I am now three weeks into teaching, and one week into teaching eighth grade math, specifically. Who would have thought this is where I'd be a month after college, or anytime after college for that matter? I ran into my high school calculus teacher this weekend, who still remembers me as the student who morally objected to finding the surface area of revolution because the only possible real-world application of that equation is how much paint to put on a cooking wok. I simply wrote at the top of my classwork papers, "I promise never to go into the wok-making industry" and turned them in blank. He did a decent job hiding his surprise when I told him my new occupation, but he still was pretty close to laughing. (He also, I found out, has since ceased teaching his students how to find the surface area of revolution.)

While math is certainly challenging, so far I remain about one step ahead of my students; at least I have solved quadratic equations before, even if higher-level calculus was never my thing. My bigger challenge these past few weeks has been not the material itself, but the students, and specifically how to manage the behavior in my classroom while I teach the material. I hear this is extremely normal for first-time (and even veteran) teachers, which gives me hope. And my school is possibly the best place to be learning, because there are already many sound structures in place for me to use to promote classroom discipline. For instance, demerits: each day, I receive a sheet with each student's name on it, next to several boxes where I can record merits and demerits based on their behavior during the day. At the bottom of the sheet is a key with a number code for (I kid you not) about 39 demerits and 15 merits. There is a demerit for not tracking the teacher with your eyes; for not having proper posture; for not having all the necessary materials at your desk; for speaking out of turn; for being in improper uniform. If you disrespect a teacher or a peer, that is an automatic detention, as is an inappropriate response to a consequence (i.e. "No I was not!" as opposed to, "Miss, I respectfully disagree.") I had to try to figure out this week what response was appropriate to a student coloring on his uniform -- there is not, shockingly, a numerical code for that one -- so I made it an "other unprofessional" demerit and pretended like I knew what I was doing.

As my brother pointed out when I described this system to me, it sounds not only strict but downright cruel when you only hear about it and can't see it in practice. In reality, the system is probably a lot less cruel than many school discipline systems. It is clear and consistent; the students know the rules, and every teacher has the same merit/demerit sheet. It does not require yelling or anger to control; I can remain very calm while redirecting my students with a quick and clear consequence. It allows for positive reinforcement as well--I've given out many merits for "excellent posture," which I find much more productive than giving out demerits for poor posture (since my students all immediately sit up straight, mistakenly thinking that I will be giving them all merits, too).

Nevertheless, while I agree with the merits (no pun intended) of this system, and can't even begin to imagine how chaotic my classroom would be without it, I have to agree with my brother in my gut reaction to it. I feel cruel standing in front of a classroom, regularly handing out consequences because a pencil has not been sharpened, an eye goes astray, a rude remark slips out. I feel badly because I know that I easily have made (and continue to make) the same mistakes. I want to give my students warnings; I want to prevent them from making the mistake that requires the consequence; I want to save them from having to take such regular and immediate responsibility for their actions.

But then as I type this this, I have to stop myself. I know that this is what I want in the short-term; it seems more sympathetic, more gracious, more how I think I want to be treated. But in the long-term, is it actually the most loving? Is it loving for me to teach my students that it is acceptable to roll their eyes at me now, if the reinforcing of such behavior is going to get them fired from their first job in a few years? Or is it more loving for me to make them face a small consequence (30 minutes after school) now, in order to teach them the importance of respect and give them the best possible advantage in a job market which is already going to be unfairly predisposed against them because of race, socioeconomic status, English-language capabilities, etc.? Is it loving for me to allow them to sleep in class, if such a habit will cause their grades to drop? Or is it more loving for me to administer a small consequence (a demerit and a call home), which may cause them to get in the habit of sleeping more and thus being better prepared to perform at the level they will need to in order to get not only admission but scholarships to great high schools and colleges?

These are only a few examples. They point to a larger reality though, which is that my love for my students cannot only be sympathy and excusing their behavior. It needs to be tough, because the world is tough. Their world, in particular, is tougher than what I have had to face. The challenges they will come up against are large, and in many cases are the results of injustices that can and should be amended. But the fact that they shouldn't exist does not mean that I can afford to ignore them, because my students cannot ignore them. In reality, I've realized, when I want to love them by sympathetically excusing problem behavior, I really am not loving them. I'm loving myself. I'm protecting myself from their anger; their frustration; their dislike of me. I'm protecting myself from having to be the adult in the room who cares for them enough to teach them hard lessons, even at the expense of my own popularity. This kind of "love" is easy, because it is my natural response. Real love is more difficult--it is tough, not just for them, but for me to give. It doesn't feel loving, because I, like my students, don't enjoy receiving consequences. But when I think of where this tough love leaves them--and me--I know that both of us are better off with it than with the watered-down versions I am tempted to give.

There is some hope at the end of week one. My first day, I had to give three demerits to the same child in one class period--a pretty big deal. Later that week he landed himself in in-school-suspension, where I had to meet with him in order to get him caught up on his math homework. He seemed a little more timid in the ISS room, so we actually had a very good session and by the end of it I could tell that he was actually understanding the concepts that he had struggled with earlier in the week. After completing one particularly difficult stretch of problems, I bent down and looked him in the eye and told him, "I can tell you are smart, and that means you are smart enough to not only do your math homework but to stay out of this room for the rest of the year. I do not want to see you in here again. Do you understand me?" He actually smiled at me and nodded vigorously. That smile was not one of nervousness or an attempt to please me; I realized that because of my stern demeanor, he understood that I cared for him. He later found me to turn in his previously-failed quiz--corrections completed, all perfect. Granted, a small victory at the end of many consequences, but a hope. I hope that not only he continues to succeed in math, but that he can continue to see the love behind tough love, and to grow because of that rather than shy away from it. And I hope I can grow to have the courage to love in a way that may be costly for me, because the cost of not loving in this way is so, so much greater.

And another one...
THINK FAST
As I reflect on this past week, the soundtrack the Nationwide Auto Insurance commercials keeps playing in my head -- a deep voice repeating, "Life comes at you fast," just as two cars collide (or, in my favorite commercial, simply fly off of a cliff). This short sound bite is probably sufficient to describe my life at the moment. In spite of that, let me continue to ramble.

Two weeks ago, I was a college student. I woke up and went to bed when I pleased, and I was the only one who suffered the consequences of any resulting sleep deprivation. I walked everywhere or, when I was particularly lazy, I drove a measly five minutes and parked somewhere for free. I went by my first name. I peppered my days with random appointments--coffee shop dates with friends, meetings with advisers, errands, naps, quiet time alone--all scheduled neatly in my day planner, just to increase my sense of control over my life. And, in the midst of it all, I claimed to be (and actually felt) stressed, tired, and yet delightfully grown-up.

In this past week, I feel like all of that freedom and the resulting self-importance and imaginary adulthood has vanished in the swarm of reality. I suddenly find myself in the "adult world," where it feels like my own agency is indeed very small. I am now a commuter--it takes me 30 minutes each way to get to work, and I drive down the same crowded highways, pay the same $5/day tolls, listen the same morning radio shows, and sip the same iced coffee (ok, I lied, I make mine at home) as all of those other people. I started to complain to my mom this evening about rush hour traffic, only to realize that I am no longer an innocent bystander trapped in the midst of the chaos--I am the cause of rush hour traffic. Not only that, but I have very little control over my day planner. I arrive at work, and there is an email in my Inbox waiting for me with my agenda for the day. Errands are no longer a random and spur-of-the-moment diversion; rather, they must be planned with what I can only imagine is the precision of a covert military operation. (Can anyone help me try to figure out how a teacher who works 7-5, Monday through Friday, makes time to be at the apartment to meet the cable and internet installation guy, who also works 7-5, Monday through Friday). I go to bed at 10 in a desperate attempt to mitigate the harsh effects of the 5:30 am alarm; thus far, it hasn't worked, but I'm told that's "social jet lag" and it will pass. Casual coffee dates with friends have been replaced by urgent coffee runs for coworkers before the afternoon staff meeting. Most importantly, my first name is gone; I now exist on a last-name basis. This last change, I believe, is supposed to make me feel more like the adult that I suddenly am, but I feel more like a child playing dress-up in grown-up clothes that don't quite fit.

I re-read this and it sounds incredibly depressing. I'm not actually meaning to sound that way. I think "shock" is probably a better word for the emotion I'm feeling right now. Much like the poor drivers in the Nationwide commercials, life came at me fast, I've been hit head on, and I am in shock. Unlike the drivers in the commercials, however, I vaguely knew this was coming. I even chose it. And I am looking forward to the day, sometime in the near future, when I will continue living this life and it will no longer be shocking. In fact, I fully expect for it to be good, just in an entirely different way than my life has been good for the past 23 years.

I'll have more specific updates related to my job soon, although I should probably clarify that for the sake of my own employment status within the school system as well as child protection laws, I won't be able to post many identifying details about who I am/where I am/with whom I'm working. I'm sure there will be plenty of sufficiently non-identifying stories to share, though. Looking forward to hearing yours--and if any of you wants to come up next week and meet the cable guy, you're more than welcome to my couch and some homemade iced coffee while you wait!