The Beginning

September 16: Four days of teaching. It’s Sunday, and school has been in session for two weeks. For the first three days, I established rules and procedures, I developed classroom culture, I talked in-depth and in-length about our vision. I spent a day defining voice and what it meant to have one. I was feeling good – my students were listening! Besides rowdiness and a penchant for talking when I do, these kids were good. Then I learned what it meant to work in the biggest of big systems: The Los Angeles Unified School District.

I then miss the second week of school because of required English teacher training! The. Second. Week. Let me tell you what that means in teacher terms . . . shit happens. If you’re not there to reinforce all the rules and investment that you spent time creating, they disappear. I got a day break from training last Wednesday, and I was pleasantly surprised how controlled my students still were. I got a lot of questions about my absence though. Teachers at least wait a month before they pack their bags. On Tuesday, when I finally reenter the classroom, I dread their reaction to why I was gone again. I’m expecting at least a dozen exchanges along the lines of:

“miss, where you been? You vacationing?”
“no, Ricardo, I told you before. I had to go to some training about this new, awesome unit we’re about to start”
“awww, miss, don’t be lying – you got married?”

I am really excited about starting to teach content material now. I think I’m boring my students so far. And I fear my advisory (homeroom) class hates me. By the way, I never really had so many doubts until I became a teacher.

Ezequiel refuses to call me anything but Ms. GoSwimming. It annoys me to no end. [yes, sigh, I do appreciate the word play – I think he’ll like Shakespeare.]Imagine what I could do with his name!
Esmeralda asked on Day 2 what I do to my eyebrows. “They’re really nice, miss.”
Katherine (a really creative writer) came to school an hour early to read her short story on werewolves to me. It was really good. I asked her if she’d read Harry Potter (since everyone should read it regardless of werewolf fascinations and Book 3), but she gave me a two minute answer that mentioned witchcraft, the devil, and a pretty definite No, she does not read Harry Potter. Hmm, I wonder if moments like this are what my advisors warned against. Something about overcoming our biases. Forget racial biases and gender biases. This girl doesn’t like Harry!
Luis will not use the red-colored marker. Blue only.
Stephanie will not make a T-chart on her notebook paper without a ruler. Seriously? “Stephanie, don’t worry about straight lines, just draw two lines and let’s get on with the lesson.” “But they’re not straight!”
“Stephanie, I’m not repeating myself, let’s go.”
[Stephanie shoots me an ugly look, draws two lines very slowly, and looks at me with “now what?” eyes. During independent practice, she erased her hand-drawn lines and traced over them with a ruler.]

How to conclude the first few days? I am nervous before every single class. I have felt incompetent, unprepared, and misunderstood. But, oh, I love going to work in the morning. There’s no feeling more alive than minute one. Forty seniors pack into the classroom. You’re probably not picturing it right. They are not in their seats – they are not looking at me in the front. They are talking to their friends, with iPods in their ears, they are still eating breakfast, and they are sitting on tables, fighting over the one chair with wheels. I really love minute one. “Class, Do Now is on the board. Sarry, throw away the bagel. Salvador, headphones out. You know better. Francisco, you’re sitting up here with me today. No one sits in the rolling chair! Ladies, make-up away. Okay, good morning, class, let’s get started.”