Just to be clear from the outset, the only time I read Newsweek is when I go to the gym. And I don't have much time for the gym these days...hooray for fall break!
But there was interesting article in the October 20 issue that I read while trying to make my elliptical machine routine go by faster. In the article, entitled "I am Not a Babysitter", a teacher (high school? middle school? public? private school? the article curiously doesn't say) in Dallas writes in order to dismantle stereotypes about the profession. My interest was immediately piqued, but I put the article down (ok, I ripped it out of the magazine and took it home, actually) with a tinge of dissatisfaction.
Three-quarters of the article is devoted to combating common stereotypes (all negative) about teachers: you couldn't find a better job, it's just a stop-gap to a higher-tier position, it's cushy day job with summers off, all teachers are just whining for more money...
I appreciate the author's realistic outlook and honest admissions about what it takes to be a teacher, but the way I see it, her "I wouldn't trade my career for any other" claim is ultimately unsupported. I don't agree with all of her reasons, actually:
-"Teaching isn't simply perching at a lectern and pontificating to hungry minds; it's being an educator, a mentor, a parent, a nurse, a social worker, a friend, a diplomat, and an expert on the curriculum. In short, we are professionals."
No. Sorry - I don't accept all of those roles. I am most definitely NOT a parent, nurse, friend, or social worker in the classroom. I can (and will) be an educator, mentor, diplomat and expert and still be a professional AND still care about the students and their learning. And I won't complain about doing those things. Why would teaching appeal to anyone if they were presented with a list of roles like the one above?
-"After all of the long hours, grueling days, mountains of paperwork, emotional exhaustion and misperceptions about the profession that I dearly love and would trade for no other, we continue to pour ourselves into the work because it's too important not to. How can we not give all of ourselves, our intellect and our talents to this work?"
In the English world, we call this telling instead of showing. Sorry Ms. Robinson, but I don't really believe you. Not that I don't believe teaching is important work or that you are devoted to your craft. What does it mean that the work is too important to avoid? How is this statement meant to inspire or encourage me, a fellow teacher? Sounds like complaining to me. (some of the comments in response to this article at the Newsweek site are vicious! check them out...)
So in short, I wish this essay were less defensive and more appetite-whetting. If the goal is to encourage respect for teachers, I think this essay could have been a whole lot better. Maybe I'll write one myself.
Whiny Babysitters?
After Month 1 of Student Teaching, I Confirm: I’m neither biracial nor Jesus (and “Glupker” does not sound like “Pumpkin”)
I’ve been asked my fair share of unexpected questions, and I’ve had a lifetime’s worth of bad pronunciations of my last name (the students asked why it isn’t spelled like it sounds…figure that one out). And if you are one of the people who peered closely at my face to see whether my eyes had grown more slanty after I got back from
Mixed with what? I replied.
Not black, the students confirmed.
(When you comment on this post, you don’t have to act surprised that I never confided in you that I’m all white)
Sure would have been nice if every day in my student teaching placement produced innocuously cheerful anecdotes like the one above. Week 1 was sort of a blur – a half-day walk-through just to meet and greet, and a school-wide activity called Challenge Day. In Week 2, my mentor teacher left me to fend for myself when she stayed home with her sick baby. We have 5 sections of 9th grade English, and in every single one, I had to give a stern “I’m not a sub, so stop treating me like one” speech. In Week 3, I figured out that my students can’t tell a complete sentence from a fragment, but they can drop f-bombs at each other in the middle of class. Week 4 gave me my first taste of school politics, and Week 5 opened my eyes to the status of the students’ essay-writing skills (we have to type this?).
On any given day, there may be 14 students absent from a class period. Usually 3 or 4 will wander in late to each class. At least 2 9th-graders will have in-school suspension every day. Two of our students were already given out-of-school suspension for fighting (10 days).
It’s harder than I thought it would be, and not just because of the students who frustrate me, or whose stories break my heart. It’s hard to be at the bottom of the learning curve, even though I know that by June, I’ll be in a much different place. It’s also no fun watching those videos of myself. Do I really tuck my hair behind my ears that much? And does my voice really sound like that?
I’m gonna post this quickly so I can catch the beginning of the game, but in case you were wondering about the Jesus thing, when I passed out a half-sheet of paper with a warm-up activity, I introduced it by saying, “Don’t worry: this is not a new essay assignment!”
Girl student: Thank you, Jesus!
Me: I’m not Jesus.
