Eff Aristotle. I have infinite possibilities.
Okay! I have slept, so it is time for a real post; after all, all two of my readers might be wondering what I’m up to, haha.
It has been a very teacher-y day. I didn’t actually teach today, but that’s never stopped me before. I still had my French class today, which was confusing - something about how humanists who like photography think History is greater than Nature or maybe the other way around, I have no idea. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have understood it in English either, so I don’t feel too bad. Philosophy never has been my strong suit.
Anyway, I was driving my mom today so she could run an errand, which was a little strange. I’m way too used to blaring my iPod and being alone with my thoughts on my daily drive. But we managed, and on the way home, we stopped for lunch and got into a long talk about teaching jobs in the area, what subjects we really wanted to teach and which we were just adding in hopes of finding a job, and other such things.
Yeah. About that. Yesterday, I was dead sure that I wanted to teach foreign language, and eff my other endorsements. English sucks all the life out of literature, and biology is really boring. I would just go to grad school for ELL/ESL, and be happy with my life. I'd teach French, or English somewhere abroad, or I'd enroll in a Spanish class next semester and start learning Spanish (which I will probably do anyway, just because I can).
Well, if you know me well enough to be reading this, you probably know what happened next. That’s right, I changed my mind. I think I need to be a little more openminded about things. I’ll still go to grad school for ELL/ESL, if for no other reason than I still love it and all my other options would probably bore me to death.
But last night my mom asked me to put together a unit for one of her students who has problems reading. It’s a one-on-one unit that she’ll teach starting Monday, and she had already done the collecting data/setting a baseline phase for me. Whatever. I actually really love creating lesson and unit plans, so I didn’t complain. I didn’t think this particular one would be all that much fun, but it would be helpful at least.
It’s always easier to teach around a story. It gives the lessons a natural continuation, and it keeps the students more interested, especially if we’re going to be focusing on things like punctuation which, by themselves, are really, really boring. This student says that he’s into science fiction and action stories; he loves C.S. Lewis and H.G. Wells (he’s currently reading War of the Worlds). So I thought about it for a minute or two and pulled Out of the Silent Planet, thinking it would be a little hard but enjoyable. Unfortunately, after I had already started, my mom decided that Planet was way too hard and told me I had to change it. I pulled nearly every science fiction book in my library before I hit on Ender’s Game (which, I am ashamed to say, I had to get from the public library. How do I not own a copy???)
I still have to redo the unit, but the entire fiasco made me realize one thing: just because all my English classes ended up nearly destroying my love for literature, that doesn’t mean my own classroom would have to be the same way. I have no idea how long I spent running all over the place, trying to find a book for this kid, but it had become an obsession by the time I drove to the library. If I can get that fired up for a kid I’ve never met and a unit I will never teach, maybe I should reconsider teaching English?
It is true that the private school I went to as a kid will be hiring a high school English teacher at the exact same time I graduate. At first, I said there was no way. I’ve really loved working in the urban community, with my diverse classes and all their unique challenges. As a principal I met earlier this week put it, I can feel connected to the urban community, and I know that they need me. The district where I used to work couldn’t have cared less if I was there or not, but my urban kids care a great deal. Private school, I figured, would be like going back to my old district: distant, disturbingly un-diverse, and, if I’m being honest, kinda boring.
Then I thought about it a little more.
My parents put me in that school to save me; I was being systematically overlooked and held back by the public schools. And if some of the statements I’ve heard from other teachers and teachers-to-be are any indication, I finally understand why - for some reason, teachers seem to hate gifted students. I have spent the last 8 years of my life fighting for my students on the other end of the special education spectrum; I never would have guessed the same would be true for gifted, but it seems to be pretty consistent. It makes my heart ache, but it’s almost doubly true for my old school. If you’re a teacher and you want respect from your colleagues, teach in the poorest school you can find, preferably one with rock bottom test scores and not a single white kid in sight. You will be lauded as a wonderful humanist, a truly passionate teacher who will finally right all the wrongs in the world, a hero on equal footing with Martin Luther King Jr. or Abraham Lincoln. Teach in a school like my old one - private, rich, gifted, and almost entirely white - and you are practically the modern version of Hitler, out to do nothing but unfeelingly stomp everyone else to death underneath your expensive, impractical designer heels. Because we all know that kids who happen to be born with light skin and brains don’t deserve good teachers, right? *stomps around angrily*
So here’s the thing. I remember being in the 4th grade. I remember transferring into said private school, and the desperate hope I had, at the tender age of 9, that my new teacher would finally understand and teach me the way I needed to be taught. I was painfully aware of how I had been treated, and how much better things could have been. I needed that school as much as my urban kiddos need their school. As much as I argue for diversity, people in general need to have someone they can relate to. I sat in the seats those students are in now. I know what they need, what they want, and how much of a fight it can take to get it.
And you know what? I think I’m a pretty good teacher. I genuinely love my job and can’t imagine ever giving it up; I think I would go insane. My students generally like my classes, and I get results; even my lowest students make significant gains. Now add in the challenge of working with gifted students (some of whom are likely as desperate for my class as I once was for my 4th grade class), and then top it all off with the fact that a private school is far more likely to support my (apparently highly unconventional) teaching methods - no more fighting with administration over every little thing I do in my classroom! - and how could I possibly resist?
Yeah, I know. I’ve said that I’ve reached a final decision fourteen thousand times before, and I always come back and say, “oh, wait, this happened today and now I changed my mind again!” So I’m not calling this a final decision. It’s just another possibility. A very tempting possibility...
ETA: I need to learn how to do that cut thing. This is a long first (real) post. Yay! I did it!