In the fall of 2003, I entered into my very first classroom. I was so excited and had so many great ideas of what I thought it would be like to be a teacher. I had no training, an emergency credential, and faith that teaching was my calling. I was given a set of keys, I was shown to my classroom, and I was told "MAKE SURE THEY LEARN!" This was a small private school in the South with great traditions and history, but set curriculum and standards were not part of my introduction to the school. This is not to say that students were not taught, that they were not challenged, or that they did not learn. As an unexperienced, un-credentialed teacher, I did not know what my students should be able to learn or what were age -appropriate expectations for them.
So, I simply taught.
I taught what I thought may be interesting to them, I taught what I remembered being taught, and I taught things that I felt would help them define who they were and what they wanted to be. I asked them to synthesize stories read in class to their own lives. At this point in my teaching career, Bloom's taxonomy was not on my radar. I didn't even know that SYNTHESIZE was a good thing.
I just taught ....and learned right along with them. There were assignments and lessons that I loved (and some .. not so much). We read "The Hobbit." Daniel R. created the most amazing dragon as part of a paper mâché assignment I gave. We read " The Hound of the Baskervilles" and several boys created a video news story complete with costumes and real horses. We studied poetry. Tyler G created the most amazing book of her own poetry and favorite poems. I am still sad that she wanted to save it for herself rather than let me keep it. I will never forget Stephanie P's Cloud poem or her finding Phenomenal Women by Maya Angelou for the same assignment. I remember Jamey P. who spent most of his days with his desk right by my podium and he would still be talking. I remember the boys versus girls limerick contest. I was too chicken to pick a winner because they were both so good! I am also sure that I taught lessons that my students must have thought, "This lady's lost her mind." I also had to abandon lessons midstream, because I knew, "This is not working."
I could truly go on forever about this class. I could tell about the students who drove me crazy, but who would still say politely and with respect, "Yes, Ma'am" when I told them, "OUT!" I could tell about the time that I tried to read one of my favorite authors, Bill Bryson, to them but couldn't stop laughing long enough to read the story. I could speak of the the time I got in trouble with many of the girls in my class after making them write about underage drinking - the weekend after many of them had what I now know to be the first of many nights of partying.
Why do I remember them so vividly... much more than any class that followed? I believe it has to do with the same reason that you remember your first crush, your first love, or your first kiss. They are ingrained in my memory as my first teaching experience... at times it was good,it was bad, and sometimes just plain ugly. However, in my mind, the overall experience was beautiful!
After finishing my year with this class, I transferred with my husband to Japan. While there, I, not only, completed by teaching degree; I also finished my Masters in Education. While I feel I am a better teacher today than I was back then, I wonder if walking into a room without preconceived notions about what was expected or developmentally appropriate made me a better teacher of the students that sat before me. Students rose to meet my absurd expectations. Together, we soared.
Three years ago this past May, I was able to return back to Louisiana and watch my first class of 8th graders graduate from high school. Their graduation day was the first time I had seen many of then since they completed their 8th grade year. I was able to give them a special gift that night. During the last weeks of school, I had them write something special about each member of their class. It had been my intention to return to each classmate comments to written about them by their before the last day of school. Best of intentions and all that, I carried those hand written papers with me for four years. They went to Japan, to California, and finally on their graduation day, I was able to personally return them to my class - positive comments from their eighth grade peers to be read on the night of their graduation from high school. I hope they enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed typing each one. I was able to reminisce about each student recalling the ups and downs of our year together.
Why do I write about this class tonight? Three years ago today, this class lost the second of their classmates within months of each other. Jamey and Candace were both extremely special students to me. Both tried my patience. Jamey, I still say could carry on a conversion with a brick wall and Candace would argue with one. I loved both and am sorry to know that this world will never see either's full potential. Also today, two of those first students of mine became engaged to be married... to each other. They began dating the end of their 8th grade year. I keep in loose contact with many of these students, believe it or not through Facebook. I watch their statuses as they experience life's highs and lows. I lift them in my prayers when I feel they are struggling and celebrate their success when I learn of them. I feel that I will be forever linked with this group of now young adults and I can not wait to see where life takes them.
I am still watching over you, Silliman Graduating Class of 2008
Love always,
Mrs. T.
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