Little victories

Today was the second day of the first week back at school, the second day of my second year of teaching, and the second day of my first week as a 6th grade teacher. Yesterday was as hectic, as you would imagine any first day could be. But it was also a fairly good day. In fact, in comparison to possibly every day of last year, the past two days have been fantastic! The kids are sweet, cute, and funny, even timid right now. I am able to "get my bluff in," and classroom management isn't nearly as difficult (this is partially because I know more of what I'm doing now, and partially because most of the kids are shorter than me, finally). I have had no complaints at the end of each day. Except ones about myself. 

I've always leaned more towards the "perfectionist" personality type, and I've always held myself to high standards. No one has observed my teaching in the past few days, and nothing about my lessons has been "wrong" or even "bad." However, I don't feel that they have been all that impressive. I know they kids don't recognize a thing, but I feel like my lessons have been rather boring, and rather unorganized. Why is this? I'm getting my information across, and I'm using a hodge podge of methods to do that. I'm being interactive. I'm assessing. I'm cold-calling. But there's also a lot of things I'm not doing. 

I find it ironic that schools always encourage their students that it's okay to make mistakes. We tell them they don't have to be perfect, and that we grow from our errors. However, I feel that teachers are pressured to be perfect. Growth or not, there is no room for mistakes in the teaching field. I know this isn't necessarily true, and there is no specific group of people that makes me feel this way, but the new TESS evaluation system is just one factor among others that seems to point a finger at teachers saying, "you must be immaculately flawless!"

To make things worse on myself, I've taken to the dangerous game of comparison. As a woman, comparison is nothing new to me. We compare our looks to the looks of the women around us. We compare our relationships to those of our friends. We compare our homes, our paychecks, our stomachs, our walks with God, you name it. While I have overcome comparing myself to others on these things (though the temptations remain), I have not yet overcome my need to compare myself to other teachers. When I'm alone in my classroom with my students, I'm great. But as soon as I go next door, I suddenly realize how unorganized I am. I suddenly see how uncreative I am, or how I'm too "old school" with my activities and instructions. I want to know exactly what my co-workers are doing in their class tomorrow, because it's always so much better than I what I have planned. I'm not a good enough teacher, because I'm not like her, or her, or him, or her. 

As I was telling a friend about my day, feeling slightly apathetic, I realized that it was actually a great day. My lesson could've been better, but it could've been a lot worse, and tomorrow it's going to all tie together. One of my classes is talkative, but a chatty group doesn't equal a group with behavior issues. My students smile at me and say goodbye to me, and I helped about 14 of them open their lockers at some point. Already, I have earned the trust of several of them simply by taking them to the right bus when they were panicked or being genuinely interested in their stories about their new video games. A good day doesn't have to be one where everything goes perfectly smoothly, or where my lesson shows qualities of a "distinguished" teacher ("proficient", even...let's be honest). A good day is a day full of little victories. 

As my first year rightly should have been, last year was a very rough year for me. As I drove home from work, I tried to get into a habit of thinking of one good thing that had happened that day. I got to a point where I couldn't even name one, even if I tried. When I realized that my only "good things" were related to my co-workers' humor and the flavors of my yogurt, I gave up. I didn't even try to search for the good in my days. 

However, I have decided that this year will be different. New grade, new school, new students, new chances. Tonight, I heard this Matt Nathanson song on my Pandora radio. I've heard it a few times before, but today, the lyrics really hit home. I've decided that this song will be my anthem for the year. My favorite line is, "I'll be awful sometimes." Let's just call it like it is--some days, I will be downright awful. It's going to happen, and I'm going to have to accept that. But I'll learn to get by on little victories. 

"Little Victories"

This time, I'll be sailing
No more bailing boats for me
I'll be out there on the sea
Just my confidence and me

And I'll be awful sometimes
Weakened to my knees
But I'll learn to get by
On little victories

This time, I'll have no fear
I'll be standing strong and tall
Turn my back towards them all

And I'll be awful sometimes
Weakened to my knees
And I'll learn to get by
On the little victories

Reflections

For years, I've cringed at the word "reflection." No, maybe cringe isn't the right word. Maybe's it's more accurate to say I've rolled my eyes and silently moaned upon hearing the word "reflection." For starters, when I was in Junior High, our Sunday night youth group meetings were called "Reflections."

"The youth have Reflections tonight; they'll be done around 7:30."
"There won't be any Reflections next week due to the summer holiday."

Reflections? Really? Each time I heard an adult refer to Youth Group as "Reflections," I pictured one of those church bible study books from the 1970s, with long, straight-haired girls and handsome boys in bellbottoms. I don't think we even did much reflecting at those meetings. We read the Bible and drank Kroger-brand soda on the crusty couches that actually were from the 70s.

What gave me the most hatred from the word "reflection" was its overuse in my college Education courses. As a freshman in Intro to Education, I remember panicking when asked to write a reflection on an article I had read. Reflection? What is that? Obviously it's more than a summary if I'm supposed to reflect on it, but if I reflect on how it affected me personally, isn't that breaking so many rules of academic writing?

We were never really told what reflections were supposed to be, or what they were supposed to look like. As with many assignments from my professor, I took a guess and crossed my fingers that it was what she was looking for. When I was a Junior, she gave us a reflection formula: summary, new learning, classroom application. Good to know. My old computer probably has over 100 reflections saved on it, easily. It got to the point where I could write those things with my eyes closed; however, no matter how familiar they became, I still dreaded them. During my internship, I was supposed to email my professor a page-long reflection in response to my week at school. For every test I made, I was to write a corresponding reflection. 10-lesson assignment? Reflection on each one. Attending a professional meeting? Reflection. Wrote a paper? Reflect. Read an article? Reflect. Worked your butt off promoting October as the Month of the Young Adolescent all around campus? That'll require 5-pages worth of reflecting. I remember the day I submitted my final unit, and my final weekly reflection. I remember thinking, I will never have to write a reflection again!

Then, I took a teaching job. In October, two months into treading water to stay alive and not ditch my career for a minimum wage job at Taco Bell, I received a large envelope in my school mailbox. I opened it to find a scholarly journal and a memo from my principal:

"Georgia:
Here is the article for your October-November Reflection. Please turn in a 3-page response before the end of next month."

Really? You're serious? Oh, that's right. Reflection is a vital part of Education. Teachers should always practice consistent reflection of what is working and isn't working in their classrooms, what they should change for next time, what they should leave the same, what lessons they are learning from their students, and how they are growing as a professional.

I ripped up the paper, threw the magazine in the recycling bin, and stormed out of the lounge! Ok, not really. I tucked the magazine into my bag, looked at it for two months, and eventually wrote a very impressive paper about alternative assessment. But in my mind, I did all of those awful things, and it made me feel a little better.

The final reason I don't care for the word "reflection" is because 8th graders cannot grasp its meaning. I didn't think the concept of reflection was that hard. I still don't. But every time I tried to break down that word, little by little, examples and all, my 8th graders looked at me like I was trying to teach them advanced calculus. Maybe it's because reflection requires you to have a past to look back on. Perhaps it's because it requires critical thinking, or thinking in general. Which is probably why I avoided it all year.

Living it once was enough; I didn't want to play my days over again in my head. Even more than that, at the end of the day, I didn't want to use my brain any more than I already had that day. Therefore, my first year of teaching, I broke one of the biggest teacher rules: I didn't reflect. I didn't try to find the little spark of light or humor amongst the pile of rubbish. Rarely did I look for the little victories in what felt like a continuous losing streak. It wasn't a complete nightmare of a year, especially once spring rolled around, but what I regret most is not recording my experiences, good and bad.

Today, I planned to go up to the school and start getting my new classroom ready. However, when I saw caution tape over the hallway, I took it as a good excuse to NOT prepare for school just yet. Instead I found myself sitting on my couch for a few hours simply thinking about my life. That sounds like long time to sit a do nothing, but it had been so long since I had simply stopped to think about where life has taken me in the past 12 months. In the past few months, God has seemed to drop one blessing after another in my lap. I went from a season of confusion and dissatisfaction to one of answers, confidence, and a sense of purpose. I love how it seems that the times when we are stagnant are usually the times when God is moving the most. I've recognized God's work and blessings in my life lately, but I hadn't really reflected on them until today, alone, on my couch. What was this year about? What did I learn?  How did these experiences shape me into who I am, and who I'm becoming?

And for the first time, I am recognizing the significance of and need for reflection.

Reflection: conscious and analytical thought by an individual about what he or she is doing and how the action affects his or her life, as well as the lives of others. 

About time

Well, it's about time I write. I find that the times when I have the most to say are the times that I want to write the least. I am sad that I went the last semester of my college career, my wonderful internship, without hardly writing at all about the amazing things that were happening around me and inside of me.

It's a shame that I didn't write about how I had been called to stay in this area, and I took a step of faith and rooted myself in this area. It's a shame I didn't write about how God faithfully provided me a job that society told me I wasn't supposed to get, because Russellville doesn't hire new grads. It's a shame I didn't write about this, because it would have been nice to remind myself of why the heck I am here.

It's a shame I haven't written about how I met a guy at my old roommate's wedding, and how as bridesmaid and groomsman we walked down the aisle together, and how this guy is now my boyfriend, and living across the world. It's too bad I didn't write about the start of our relationship, because I will want to remember that, not only later, but right now, when he's miles and time zones away, and I haven't seen him in three months.

It's a shame how I haven't written about my job as an 8th grade English teacher, and how it is not at all what I thought it would be, or what I wanted it to be. It's a shame that I haven't written a lot since I started teaching English, because I now use more run-on sentences than ever, and many times I'm too lazy to add punctuation to my text messages.

My world is so up in the air right now, and yet everything about my life seems to be sitting still.

I'm taking a pastoral ministry class at my church, and we're supposed to be keeping a journal, writing at least one entry per week. The class started in September, and I think I've written two entries in a journal. It's about time I become a better student.

I kept a blog all through college. But it's a new season. I'm not a college kid anymore. I have a salary and pay bills and have Health Insurance go to bed at 10 pm. Last spring, 8th graders saw me as "cool." Now, 8th graders see me the same as they see my 50-year-old co-workers: grown-up and boring. It wouldn't be fitting to write in the same blog I wrote in as a 19-year-old college freshman. No, it's time for a new blog.

So here it is. Title? Confessions of an 8th Grade Teacher Who Looks Like an 8th Grader? The Life of a Long-Distance Relationship? Roots and Buds. That's what this season is about....roots and buds.