I've Just Had an Apostrophe!

I think you mean an epiphany. - Hook

Several days ago, while walking along the hallway toward my classroom, I had an apostrophe. I actually stopped in my tracks as an overwhelming feeling of rightness took over my body. I'm surprised that the whole school didn't hear the bells ringing, or notice the way suddenly everything was clearer, brighter, sharper. I knew at that moment, sure as the sky is blue and the earth is round, that being a teacher is what was meant for me all along. I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. I am actually living what I once dreamed about doing. It is at once awe-inspiring and humbling. And is probably why I haven't written much about my teaching experience so far. It doesn't feel new to me. It just feels incredibly normal. And by normal I do not mean boring or tedious. It just....fits....like a glove. It's right.

Here in Florida we start the school year insanely early - teachers reported for work August 2nd. Don't ask me why - I know why - but don't ask me. It will only start me on a rant. Students start on the 9th. So I have officially been teaching for a month now. Everyone warned me that the first year is the hardest, and everyone was right. There is so much to learn! State mandates. County laws. School rules. Administration policies. Names of kids. Names of teachers. Names of secretaries, lunch ladies, teacher's aides. And none of that has anything to do with the actual job I was hired for - teaching! I have been lucky in that I have been assigned a fabulous mentor, have a great team of teachers to work with, and have a principal that loves me (she was one of my college professors - I had a 105 average in her class).

I am also team teaching, which means I share a room with another teacher and we split the duties. We have 31 kids in our first grade class. 16 are officially "mine", 15 "hers". We teach as one class, but for some activities the class separates. It's working out well - though it is crowded and a bit noisy. We take turns teaching whole class, and when one is teaching, the other is either monitoring the room or doing paperwork. We do all our lesson planning from home and email each other back and forth until it's complete. If you think this means we do half the work in half the time, then you would be correct. We are so organized - it's possible my partner is more anal than I am - that we are actually the envy of the other teachers. Our room is always neat. Our discipline plan is simple, direct, and extremely strict. Our kids love us and fear us all at once. It seems the stricter we are, the more they love us. Go figure.

Although I'm very strict, and even can be "mean" sometimes, I'm really a soft touch. The other day I took a test away from one of my girls when she tried to cheat. She put her head down on the desk and a few minutes later I realized she was sobbing. It absolutely killed me that I made a little girl cry like that. You have to realize that I teach at a very poor inner-city school. Most of these kids are living below poverty level. They have it rough enough as it, they don't need to be sobbing in school. And may I add that this particular little girl also has sickle-cell anemia. I felt like a shit. I hugged her and dried her tears, and we talked about why she tried to cheat. She actually knew the answer to the question on the test, she just didn't want to get it wrong - because she didn't want to disappoint me. Did I say I felt like a shit? I meant to say I felt like a gargantuan, super-sized, steaming pile of shit. I gave her test back, she finished it, and got a 100. Later she drew me a picture that said "I lov u Ms Rose".

I didn't feel so bad when I brought one of my boys to the principal's office later that day (my first time sending a kid to the principal!), considering he hit another boy in the face. This particular student drives me bonkers. If corporal punishment were still allowed he'd be in a full body cast from not only me but from all of his activity teachers as well. He walks into a classroom and the teacher groans. He has no self-control whatsoever. He is up out of his chair constantly, he talks non-stop, he shouts, he dances, he pushes and shoves. He is a walking/talking headache. After a particularly bad day recently - where both my partner and I and his activity teachers had reprimanded him numerous times - I found him walking through the cafeteria carrying his lunch with tears pouring down his face. Holy moly, is that remorse I see?! Is he actually feeling sorry for his behavior, for once?? I quickly went up to him and told him it would be ok, we all have rough days, his will get better. He looked up at me with his little tear-stained face and cried, "They don't have any pickles left!!!!", and then started wailing. I wanted to throw him into oncoming traffic. May I take this opportunity to thank the administration for giving this boy to me my first year teaching. Worst part is, he's the smartest kid in my class. Best part, he's got a doll for a mom. We have gotten to know each other quite well already, believe me.

I could go on about every student, but that would test the limits of my blog friends' patience. Simply put, I love them all, even the one mentioned above. I love that they hug me and want to succeed for me. I love the looks on their faces when I tell them I expect greatness from them. I love their gasps when I tell them I expect them all to go to college someday, and to become doctors and scientists and of course - teachers. I love that they think that I am right about everything, so I must be right about this too.

I get paid crap for doing this. And yet I can't help but feel sorry for everyone in the world who isn't a teacher.