When You Sound Like an Ugly Old Toad

The incessant beeping of the alarm pulls me out of bed at 5:30 in the morning. Actually, that’s a lie. The alarm goes off, and I turn on the lamp beside my bed, but I don’t get out of bed for like another fifteen minutes. When I finally drag myself out of my warm blanket cocoon, I’m still rather incoherent and mostly asleep. But I as I get dressed and shove my computer in my bag, my brain begins to wake up and the first thing I notice is how my whole mouth seems stuck together, and my throat already hurts even though I haven’t said one word yet today. Is my voice even going to work? I begin to wonder. Spoiler: It croaked like an old ugly toad all day.

Before I leave, I swallow an allergy pill in the hopes that it will do something to fix this mess. After all, I usually end up dealing with seasonal allergies this time of year, so that’s definitely all it is. I don’t have time for anything else. On the way to school, I begin to wonder how exactly I’m going to teach my classes today, especially the freshman who like to talk. I keep thinking about how I can’t wait for this day to be over. And it’s only 7 A.M. Great.

When first period starts, the first thing I say to my kids is that they’re going to really have to pay attention today because I’m losing my voice and can’t talk loud. They laugh, and one student who is sarcastic and never fails to make me laugh says, “Ms. K. are you ill?”

“I better not be,” I reply, “I do NOT have time to get sick.” This makes everyone laugh, and I laugh with them. We move on, and the lesson goes well. Better than I expected, fact. I asked them to look at two short stories, one fiction, and one not, to see how they were breaking the “rules” of writing. After they finished reading and discussing with their partners, we talked about the two pieces as a class, and I swear these kids have never said more in a class discussion than they did today. Even the girl who doesn’t speak at all if she can help it, and even then never above a whisper spoke up two or three times. I’m not sure if they were truly getting into our topic, or if they felt bad for me, but either way I’ll take it. The rest of the day passed in a haze of normalcy, and I realized after the fact that it took actual effort for me to recall anything we did.

There was a point to all this when I started writing, but I think I lost it somewhere along the way. Another victim of the ever-growing brain-fog that’s spreading over me. And while I have no idea if this was the original point or not, something I learned today is that is in fact possible to teach through the brain-fog and the throat that seems insistent about enforcing silence. It may not be easy, or pleasant, but it is possible. Crack a joke, remind your students that you’re human too, and move on. Croaky throat and all.

How To Move On When It Just Isn’t Working

Joe and I were in a serious relationship for a number of years. When we met, I had no intention of getting involved. I honestly thought that Joe was overrated. I’d heard all of the rumors. People either loved him or hated him. I’ll be honest, he had a reputation. Once people spent enough time with him, they were hooked. I knew I’d be stronger than the masses. Joe wasn’t going to break me. As I tried to avoid him, he somehow found every single way to show up. I’d run into him in the mornings and as I ran errands–literally everywhere.

Anytime I saw him, I’d avoid contact. I used every excuse in the book. It’s not you, it’s me…I’m just not ready for something like this…You’re not my type…and my personal favorite…I’m just not that into you. Nothing worked, so I found myself caving.

I kept it casual at first because I didn’t want feelings to get too strong. We saw each other once a week at the most. That only lasted so long. I soon got so attached that I felt I needed him to even function. If I wasn’t with Joe, I was thinking about Joe.

Our relationship soon turned into a rollercoaster of emotions. One minute we loved each other, and then the next minute we were fighting. One of his exes reached out to me–she said “run while you can.” I started having my doubts. He seemed so great. Joe could make you feel like you were capable of anything as long as he remained by your side.

The days Joe wasn’t around were hard and long. I couldn’t take it. There were days when I would stay in bed because I couldn’t function without him.

My friends sat me down one day and told me that this relationship needed to stop. They let me know that life was not meant to be lived being this dependent on someone as terrible as Joe. I was in denial. I let them know Joe and I were fine because I truly believed we were. My friends decided to challenge me to something because I just wasn’t understanding what they were saying.

In January of 2018, I was challenged to give up caffeine. Yes…Joe is a cup of coffee.

Queue the groaning, eye-roll, and sighs.

I had never truly been hooked on caffeine until student teaching began back in August. I used to be the person you wanted to punch in the face in the morning. You know what I’m talking about. The person who sings with the birds, cooks an elaborate breakfast, exercises, and usually reads for fun…all before 7:00am. I’ve never been the person that needs coffee in order to wake up. But between edTPA and early morning commutes, I found myself needing that extra pick-me-up.

And as my caffeine-less mind reflects upon teaching and coffee and everything good in the world, I think I’ve found a connection. Too much of anything isn’t great, and the excess of whatever that thing is can turn into a bad habit. Five cups of coffee a day isn’t the best habit to have (before you say anything, I know five cups is a lot). I’d argue that five worksheets in one class period is also a terrible habit.

Teaching routines and practices are a lot like a bad caffeine addiction. It starts out harmless, and it honestly feels good. Then that new thing becomes the new normal. The tough reality of habits is the fact that they are hard to break. The breaking of a bad habit takes work, takes time, and usually involves a bit of pain and discomfort along the way. As I watch veteran teachers doing their thing, I’ve found myself making comments like “I’ll never do that” and “they don’t need to teach.” As I continue to discover my teacher identity, I’m realizing that making those comments may be the most dangerous thing to do. As Justin Bieber says, “never say never.”

Again…queue the eye-roll and internal groaning.

I told myself I wouldn’t drink coffee, but when I started drinking coffee, my life felt like it was getting easier. If I promise to not do x, y, or z while teaching, I may very well end up doing those things because they make my life feel easier.

Just like I had to have a tough (and humorous) conversation about my caffeine addiction, I think we (as educators) need to have similar conversations about our teaching practices. We need to ask ourselves what we are dependent on. We need to evaluate what is healthy and what needs to go. We need to be okay with change, even when it hurts.

Do I still drink coffee? I’d be lying if I said no. I may or may not be drinking a GRANDE from Starbucks at the moment. The difference now is that I’m not dependent on caffeine. Studies show that coffee is actually good for you. Just like a little coffee is okay, I do believe that a worksheet, workday, independent work, and any other questionable teaching practice every now and then is okay too. The moment when a worksheet day becomes our new normal as teachers is when we probably (really) need to have that tough conversation.

So, how do you move on from teaching practices when they just aren’t working? How do you get rid of those bad habits and inaccurate beliefs about students and learning?

Community.

I most definitely did a WebMD search on how to get rid of a caffeine addiction, but I don’t believe teaching habits are broken by weaning off of worksheets or quitting things cold-turkey. I believe lasting change and transformation for educators happens within professional communities.

It’s organizations like NCTE and GCTE. It’s professional development days. It’s those teaching friends you make in the hallways of your school. It’s this cohort. These communities are the ones that allow us to break those bad habits. Why? They demand accountability. They offer new perspectives. They hold friendships. They inspire creativity. They keep education alive. They call you out when you can’t see what’s wrong.

But most importantly…they believe in the same thing–that education still changes lives.

 

How I Became a More Annoying Girlfriend Since I Started Teaching

Setting: A local dive bar with dim lights, crowded with college students and cigarette smoke. There is a sorority party going on in the background. Could be Disney themed. Maybe Italian Renaissance. No one cares. A small group of girls are in the corner celebrating a birthday. One realizes that a member of the squad is missing; she’s probably at the bar again. Curtain raises.

“I can honestly say I never tied a student’s shoelace before…”

Spotlight appears and on sets on a young woman sitting on a bar stool. Ms. S, a student teacher, is tall, blonde, and has uncannily dark circles under her eyes; she’s not used to hanging out this late. Or talking to people her own age. She regrets the blazer she’s wearing. She sips on a Jack Honey and Coke because Jack and Coke is too strong, but no one will notice the difference. She might switch to coffee next. She is talking to an Unnamed Frat Boy who is too interested in Ms. S’ life for her own liking, but she’s lazy and can’t find another bar stool or her friends.

Unnamed Frat Boy: “So that’s the only difference between elementary and high school?”

Ms. S: “No, I also don’t use stickers. Or encouragement. I’m kidding; I love stickers.”

Unnamed Frat Boy: “Cool, so you’re like Zooey Deshanel in New Girl?”

Ms. S, sardonically: “No, more like Robin Williams’ character in Dead Poet’s Society combined with Cameron Diaz’s in Bad Teacher.”

Unnamed Frat Boy doesn’t laugh. Ms. S leaves. The stage is cleared for Ms. S’ monologue.

Ms. S: “So last Sunday, I was planning lessons for the week when I realized that I have morphed into an even more annoying girlfriend that ever before, right after of course my boyfriend asked me if I wanted Jimmy John’s for lunch and I replied by yelling something about how standardized testing is destroying the future. A lot of men, including Unnamed Frat Boy, harbor this deceitful perception that dating a teacher is greatest thing ever: super sweet, thoughtful, already knows how to raise children, always has glitter in her hair. This is not true. My poor boyfriend, let’s call him Shakespeare, has witnessed and endured the evolution of his girlfriend turning into an aggressively passionate, obsessive compulsive, free-time martyring future educator. In fact, it’s pretty funny thinking about the first time he saw me in a ‘teacher environment,’ that one time I thought it was a good idea to bring a date to the school’s homecoming game…” Curtain falls.

Setting: Sporebury’s football stadium during their high-stakes homecoming game. Stands are packed out with students, teachers, parents, and high school dropouts networking for jobs or girlfriends. Ms. S sits in the far, desolate corner of the stadium with Shakespeare. It’s drizzling and cold, but yet the two are at a noticeably awkward distance apart. Shakespeare is a ridiculously tall red head. He’s hipster. Not hipster enough to have a full, full beard, but hipster enough to deny his hipster-ness. His dad makes record players for a living. Shakespeare and Ms. S are “exclusively dating,” because the words b**f***** and g***f***** are too strong, just like Jack and Cokes.

Shakespeare: You really think you won’t run into any of your students here?
Ms. S: Oh no, the student section is completely on the other side of the stadium. We’re fine.

A mob of freshmen suddenly engulf the couple.

Student 1: OOH! Ms. S! Is this Mr. S?

Student 2: Ms. S is on a HOT DATE!

Student 3: Introduce us!

Students 4-20: WHOISTHISWHOISTHISWHOISTHIS

Shakespeare, suddenly standing up to join the freshmen with his arms crossed: Yeah, Ms. S. Who am I? What are we?

Ms. S runs away.

A couple months progress and Ms. S and Shakespeare are finally dating-dating while Ms. S’ mind is slowly deteriorating.

Setting: Date night. The couple has plans to go downtown Atlanta for dinner and drinks, but Ms. S falls in a deep, comatose-like sleep on the couch. She covers herself in student essays and Chipotle burrito wrappers. Suddenly, she wakes up.

Ms. S, in a panicked mood: WHAT TIME IS IT. Is it Sunday or Wednesday?! What does the morning commute look like?!

Shakespeare: It’s 5pm on a Friday. Go back to sleep. Curtain falls.

Setting: Ms. S and Shakespeare are having a heated fight about whose turn it is to choose which show to watch on Netflix. Although it Ms. S’ turn to pick, Shakespeare insists on watching his shows even though Ms. S sits THROUGH HOURS OF FOOD TRUCK RACE WITHOUT COMPLAINING–

Shakespeare: You are so selfish. Your taste in television is the worst in the world.

Ms. S, activating Teacher Stare (see story #1): Excuse me? What did you just say young man?

Shakespeare: You heard me. I literally just said—

Ms. S: Use your words.

Shakespeare, disgusted: What? Are you using a teacher voice on me??

Ms. S: Look me in the eyes and think about your choices.

Shakespeare: This is making me more pissed off…

Ms. S: Go get some water and come back when you’re ready to take responsibility for your actions. Don’t make me call your mom.

Setting: Shakespeare’s birthday. Shakespeare’s wearing his favorite tie. Ms. S is wearing two or three day old makeup.

Shakespeare, in an excited manner: Where are we going to celebrate tonight, babe?
Ms. S: Hmm, help me grade these vocab quizzes before we think about leaving the apartment? Okay? Okay.

Despite my increasing insanity, I think the most insane thing of all is that I still want to be a teacher after this year. All jokes aside, dating a teacher is actually quite awesome, I would imagine, because there is nothing more raw and special than true, authentic passion to use the upcoming generation to make the world a better place.

Curtain falls.

Please applaud.