Sidetrack: Teaching Advice

 Once upon a time I was a student teacher.  And before that, a mere student.  When I finally decided to pursue teaching, I  had a professor who took me under his wing and offered me a student teaching job at one of the most prestigious high schools in America…It's the oldest.   Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, John Quincy Adams, countless others spent their teen years there preparing for they knew not what, a country they could barely imagine, preparing for Harvard, a divinity school at the time and I was chosen to learn to teach here, in the halls of greatness. 

And yet, I was not great.This came as a colossal surprise to me.  I had watched my dad teach for over 20 years at that time (over 30 before he retired) and although his work seemed grueling- his ideas, lesson plans and general classroom management seemed more an extension of his magnanimous personality and great faith rather than a skill honed by the aforementioned 20 years. 

 I was wrong.  Skill was indeed involved and wisdom.  And as the bard was wont to say, “Therein lies the rub.” How does one attain wisdom?  And on a deadline too.  

My professor gave me great advice, so much advice.  

“That was a disaster, don't try and force it.”  

“They won’t respect you if you speak to them like that.” 

“Don’t let them think that they are in charge or can manipulate you.” 

And yet even with all this feedback, and examples, these nudgings, corrections, exhortations and principles of pedagogy I found myself one Friday afternoon ready to quit.

I did not see myself getting any better.  

I was exhausted and frustrated.  

I boarded the inbound green line T and plopped down on the green line next to my friend Kat.  I put my head in my hands. “I can’t do it.”

 “You can,” she encouraged me, “you are doing it.”  

“No, I can’t!  He is never happy with me.  I am too strict, too lax, my standards unreasonable, my assignments too juvenile.  I cannot get it right and its killing me!”  

She looked at me and reminded me that perfectionism is the death of many a great teacher because we cannot control all the variables. Then, it was her stop and I was left alone on the lurching train.  

    I sat there, pondering all this advice, all this truth and yet none of it helping me right then and there. I simply could not make sense of it. Nor would it for another four or five years.

But I did not give up teaching.  I’m honestly not sure why. Stubborn, I guess.

Finally, one day, when I least expected it, it made sense. All of it. ALL of the advice was sound.  BUT it was advice only, it was not a rule of  law, not an unbreakable truth. I could not apply it in every situation.  It was all good but I had to know when to use it. I had to have my own brain, my own experiences and trust my own gut as a teacher to know when to hold the line and when to extend grace, to determine if it was a day to check boxes and meet objectives no matter the objections or to stop and listen to the objections, seeing them as teachable moments.  

    I have gotten it wrong….a lot.  Maybe more than I’ve gotten it right and the hard part about teaching, and parenting, and loving and just plain living to be honest: we sometimes don’t even know if we did the best thing, we merely did the best we could in that moment. But, ahh for the times you get it right, and you see the dawning of understanding on a student’s face.  Those moments are not about advice or perfect execution of a pedagogical principle.   Those moments are pure grace.  

Working Backwards

I took copious notes when I arrived here.  Like an anthropologist intent on setting down every experience and interaction. And like every good novel about an obsessive compulsive note taker devoted to detailing with precision events that can never be replicated…the notes have ... .of course… been lost, ruined, taken in a figurative fire that is known in many circles as "Built in obsolescence." My angst over it is fairly
intense.  How can I possibly began to explain the past 7 years? (note photos)

AND yet.  Maybe the work was in the writing. 

The changes on every front were so monumental that perhaps the only or best way I could deal with the absolute unknowns surrounding our housing, money, and future was to chronicle the best way I knew possible. 

And perhaps looking back after five years I can see not every tree that meant so much at that time in my life, but at least the forest that we navigated and traversed. 

So, with the disclaimer, I hope we all realize there will be plot gaps, questions, random thoughts per usual.  Still, as is the watchword on this endeavor, “I’m just going to write because I cannot help it.”- Charlotte Bronte (still and always).

Restart (A truly great YA novel if you haven't read it)

 At least three major things have happened since I wrote that last piece…”Never…”  possibly 2-300 more but I will try to be brief. 

I had the baby for one.  He’s perfect.  He’s 6 now and wild and courageous and everything I never could have imagined.  

The world shut down for another thing.  That was a disaster I never want to experience again but am so proud I survived, surrounded by the best community possible.  

And as if all that weren’t enough, we moved across the country.  All six of us and my mother in law and started over in a state I swore to never visit again let alone reside in.  And of course, somehow, it has become my home.  Not my true home. I know more and more that we are mere sojourners on this journey.  But a home none the less, full of love, laughter, tears, joy, freedom and growing.  So much growing! I just want to write about it all, before it all slips by.  

So, if you are here for that journey- that quest- buckle up because as I tell each and every one of my students “Life’s Hard….Wear a Helmet.”