The Most Dramatic Post in the History of Teaching as Story Telling …How I Became the Bachelorette

I’m Becca K.

If you didn’t read the tabloid magazines from February to March when you checked out at the grocery store, let me give you a crash course in this past winter’s trash TV. Arie, the infamous Bachelor on ABC’s top reality show, proposed to Becca K. while still in love with another contestant. Red flags? Most definitely.

After a few months into the engagement, he broke up with Becca ON TV and proposed to the other contestant. Was this staged? Probably. But for the sake of this particular story, let’s go with this-is-one-hundred-percent-true.

Becca K. was promised a future that was then taken away from her. If you didn’t tune in this winter to the drama, let me just tell you my story. It’ll do the show a little justice…I think.

There I was at the final rose ceremony. I had on my best dress or really suit, and I had my speech prepared. My insides were a cocktail of confidence and uncertainty. Sure, I had gotten this far, but that didn’t mean I was promised anything. I received rose after rose. I made it through group (class), two-on-one (collaborating teaching) and one-on-one dates (YCE). I made a good impression, one that I hoped would help me out that day.

He called me in and spoke to me for what seemed like an eternity. By the end of our conversation, I had a job. I got the rose. I knew that I was qualified for the job, but there was still a part of me that was in shock. This was getting all too real.

I left the meeting with the promise that human resources would call me to make everything even more official.

So, I anxiously waited.

Teachers contacted me. The school contacted me. I visited with the staff and students. I was preparing for what I believed would be my future.

Yet, I was still waiting on HR.

Days went by.

 I still waited.

I got a call on a Wednesday during my 4^th block class. My collaborating teacher told me to take it out in the hall. She was anxiously waiting with me. Human Resources was finally calling me. My heart was racing as I unlocked my phone.

Instead of getting a “congratulations call,” I got a “you need to come up with a plan B, you don’t have this job anymore” call. Due to some unforeseen changes, the future that I had been promised was no longer mine.

I slipped my phone into my pocket and sunk to the dirty floor of the freshman building. I didn’t understand it—I had just talked to the principal the day before. None of what I heard felt real. My mind started to fill with words punching my insides.

You weren’t good enough in the first place. Why did you get your hopes up? This was bound to happen. Nothing comes that easily to you. Idiot. You’re screwed. Good luck trying to find a job. You should have made a better impression.

Hearing a student coming to the door that I was sitting outside of, I picked myself up, put a smile on, and entered the class to help my students. My insides were going crazy. Regardless of how I felt, the “show” so-to-speak, still had to go on.

I taught through my frustration. I taught through my anger. I taught through my confusion. I fought back all the tears. For someone who is emotional, it takes all the strength to fight the intense waves that were slapping me in the face during that moment.

And then the kids left, and a bit of my frustration, anger, and confusion did too. I no longer knew where I would be next year. I no longer had a job (thought I had a job). I no longer had a plan.

Like Becca K, I was promised something.

Like Becca K, I had my plans changed.

Like Becca K, I was given a second chance.

While I don’t believe that a reality TV show exemplifies true love or anything worth spending time on, Becca was given the second chance at something whether that be fame or this false Idea of true love as the new bachelorette.

I believe I was given a second chance that Wednesday.

Getting rejected at this school was my second chance at finding the right school to land in for this next year. Rejection S T I N K S. Having plans change on you outside of your control is H A R D. Feeling forgotten H U R T S.

Moving through rejection, changes in plans, and painful feelings make people stronger though. While this illustration most definitely is cheesy and maybe even a bit forced, I’m thankful for this second chance. I’m thankful to continue the job search in hopes that I find the right place to teach.

About everything that I have encountered this year has been packed full of life lessons and wisdom ready for me to take hold of. I feel like I have the wisdom of a 60 year-old after YCE. This second chance at a job has only continued this lesson learning process.

I’m learning that just like we say “We teach students about English…not English to students” I need to also say “I teach students at a school. Not (insert school name) students.” Teaching isn’t about a particular school or subject matter. Teaching isn’t about seeming cool. Teaching isn’t easy like people make it out to be. Teaching isn’t arts and crafts and nap time. Teaching isn’t reading books for fun. Teaching isn’t simple. No, not at all.

Teaching is about people. Teaching is relationship-building. Teaching is helping Lauren in 4th block process her father dying. Teaching is getting the respect from thirty teenagers in one room. Teaching is keeping students safe. Teaching is intervening and reporting when students are in danger. Teaching is vision-casting. Teaching is trouble-shooting. Teaching is being a student’s mentor, friend, advocate, and safe-person. Teaching is hard. Teaching is worth it. Teaching is exhausting. Teaching is about believing in the future so much so that you want to spend times developing the minds of the future.  

I’m ready for the job search and more than ready to continue teaching…I’m scared but ready.

In the words of Becca K, “let’s do this damn thing.”

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.

Be Where Your Feet Are

My head bumps the top of ceiling as I get back into the safari jeep again. “Are you okay?” someone asks. I respond with a weak “Yes. The ceiling and I are just getting aquatinted.” After five hours of driving and nursing my throbbing head, the jeep parks for us to get some needed stretch time for our weary legs. As I get out, the dry heat burns my abnormally white skin that Crayola has not found a name for in the white pallet. I take two steps forward and hear a noise that will cause anyone’s heart to stop. I avoid looking down—ignorance is so bliss…most of the time. But I can’t avoid the unavoidable for long, so I look down. Sure enough, my pants just ripped. Not just a little bit, no. The entire back side of my right pant leg fell off. Maybe it was the head injury that the jeep ceiling gave me or my lack of water that day, but nothing was going to stop me from the night Safari.

Sammy lifts the roof of the jeep, something I wish he’d done five hours ago. We hop back in. Sammy and I talk about life—about his children, his dreams, his hope for his home, and sports. Well, Sammy talks about sports, I just listen. An hour into the conversation, I ask Sammy when we are going to begin the safari. Sammy looks at me as if I had lost my left pant leg. “Nzuri. We started an hour ago.” (Again, I blame the head injury).

Safari’s don’t have a straight route. There are no roads, directions, or set paths. To safari means to drive into untouched territory with no plan other than to be back before dark so you don’t get eaten by an animal. Sammy smiles and tells me “Hakuna Matata. Look up. Look out.”

People say you haven’t seen a sunset until you see an African one. While the myriad of colors painting the skyline will leave you without words, this amazing vista is what changes a person.  The remote, untouched land takes on new life with each fading ray of sun hitting the red earth and pale grasses. I’d even argue that pictures rob the beauty beneath the fertile ground.

As I watch the scenes unfold and listento the hum of Sammy’s jeep, my mind travels to my students back in the Rift Valley. I think about the orphans and my friends without homes. The beauty of the land juxtaposes the poverty in circumstances. But something feels different. This land feels full and energized. I forget about the lack.

Elephants paint the horizon. Giraffes come close. Lions stay far away. I watch as cheetahs are chased by baboons, and as the zebras race each other. I breathe in and close my eyes. No hand has touched the grasses or trees. Beauty and fullness do not come from the work of man, but from the land God has provided. These animals are as wild as they get which is not unlike my hair most mornings. They haven’t entered my home; I’ve entered their kingdom. Sammy looks at me. As if he can see my mind moving 150mph, he puts his hand on my shoulder and whispers, “be where your feet are.”

I catch myself most days, saying something along the lines of “when I graduate.” Before that, it was “when I start student teaching.” Before that, it was “when I get that one professor.”  When I find myself in this trap of wishing for a job or to be a seasoned teacher or to finally have my own classroom, my mind travels back to Africa—the place where people live for the moment in front of them because that’s all they have promised….”be where your feet are” resonates with me often.

In Africa, I would marvel at the sight of a lion who was doing nothing other than being a lion. It didn’t take effort or training or a certificate or validation from someone else for the lion to be a lion. While I have more training now and I am about to get that piece of paper that says I can legally teach, I’ve been a teacher since I was five and played “pretend teacher” with my friends after school. I’ve been a teacher since I read my first sentence in pre-k. I’ve been a teacher since I started babysitting. I’ve been a teacher since I was bullied in middle school. I’ve been a teacher long before I will ever receive that piece of paper that validates who I am already.

I consider myself to be someone in the business of building character. Reading a book teaches kids to think about something from a different perspective, fostering empathy. Writing an essay teaches kids to know theiraudience, instilling a sense of ownership and developing communication skills. Getting the kid that sleeps the entire class to wake up develops perseverance in a student and teacher.

While students need training to do certain things, they do not need validation from an authority figure to have the character of a writer, a doctor, an actor, or whatever it is that they want to be. While a student may not have the training needed to be a practicing doctor, he or she can still heal others. We as teachers, specifically English teachers, get to facilitate this development. We can teach that future doctor how to use words, how to heal deep wounds, and how stories can help others fight their own battles. Words are powerful, meaningful, impactful.

I write this for three different sets of people:

1. Students: Wherever you are at…whoever you are…don’t live for the “when.” Your opportunity now is far greater.
2. Teachers: We need to be investing in our students’ character and current state rather than ONLY pushing them to think about the future.
3. Pre-service teachers: Don’t wait to become a teacher. You are on a journey as a teacher NOW.

Don’t wish your feet were ten years into the future when you have been given this day. Don’t run on ground that isn’t there yet. When we live for all of the moments ahead, we forget to take complete advantage of the moment we are in. If you’re in the process of whatever, your moment is right now. Be where your feet are…

It’s Not Too Soon…

As a parent, a future educator, and human I have a few thoughts I’d like to place on the table.

1. Not now, nor ever do I think banning guns is the answer. Just like with travel bans, ethnic bans, drug bans…banning anything is ridiculous and does not actually address the problem.
2. Not now, nor ever do I do think it a logical train of thought to give teachers a gun to keep in the classroom. Unless you are willing to train us like you train the marines. Are you ready to train us like the marines? I have to tell you…I’m not.
3. Not now, nor ever do I believe it’s too soon. It is not too soon to be talking about gun laws. It is not too soon to be enforcing the rules we already have in place. It is not too soon to be calling wrong, wrong. It is not too soon to be wondering why other countries do not have this issue.

School shootings do not deter me from teaching. It only makes me painfully aware that I am exactly where I need to be.

I pray for the families and teachers that lost their child, their brother and sister, their cousin, their wonderful students. We have supposedly put measures in place to prevent this from happening. So, what’s the disconnect?

 

The Most Dramatic Post Yet: Why Student Teaching May Seem Just Like The Bachelor But Isn’t

Disclaimer: Sometimes we all need a little trash TV mental break

While the twenty something of us in the 2017-2018 cohort have been on this journey to becoming teachers, twenty something women have been on a journey to finding love. As Chris Harrison says, “it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”

If you have never watched The Bachelor before and/or have never snuck a peek at the tabloids when checking out at a grocery store which love to talk about the show (99% of us have), let me help you out a bit. Imagine this scenario. Twenty something women put their lives on hold to chase after the same guy. Before you begin commenting about how wrong this is, trust me…I agree. Throughout the short process, the eligible bachelor eliminates women until he is left with two ladies. The end results in him giving a final rose and an engagement ring to the lucky (loosely speaking) winner. Along the way, women leave because they just aren’t “there for the right reasons” or “didn’t realize that the process would be this hard.” In between the “shocking reveals” are tears, drama, and cat-fights—all of which millions of viewers watch unfold each week.

Let me paint another picture for you. Twenty something pre-service teachers put their lives on hold to chase after a dream of changing students’ lives and pursuing a career in education. Before you begin commenting about how wrong this is, let me be the first to tell you that you’re wrong. Throughout the (relatively) short process, some of us have second thoughts. Here’s where things are different. The end doesn’t result in a final rose being given to one lucky person, but instead in all of us graduating (hopefully with jobs).

With the pressure of graduating, passing the GACE, finishing edTPA, and searching for a job, things start to get intense. In a way, we are all fighting for a job as we embark on this life changing journey together. As the not-so-beloved Bachelor season comes to a close along with our student teaching, I felt that this would be an appropriate time to discuss how The Bachelor is not and shouldn’t even closely resemble our student teaching experience (even though it may seem like it does).

1. It may seem like we are all waiting for the final rose, but we aren’t. The contestants of the show live in this uncertainty. There isn’t just another woman but other women (please notice the plural noun). They are at the mercy of whatever the bachelor at the time feels is right. While we are all competing (so-to-speak) for a job, there won’t just be one job. While it may start to get a little dicey as the job search unfolds itself, this isn’t a show like The Bachelor where only one of us wins.

2. It’s okay to not feel a connection. All of the contestants are competing against one another. The winner of the show has the strongest connection. Student teaching is nothing like this. There will be certain students, teachers, and schools that we just don’t connect with. Not having a connection doesn’t mean you aren’t a good teacher—it means you’re finding out what works and what doesn’t work for you.

3. Dr. Birmingham Is NOT Chris Harrison, but he is pretty similar. Not only is Chris Harrison part host of the show, but he is also part therapist, part matchmaker, and part friend to all of the participants. Dr. Birmingham may not be setting us up with a future husband or wife, but he is giving us a lot of the tools we need for the future. He isn’t just an advisor, but our troubleshooter, therapist, and mentor.

4. There is not a first impression rose. The Bachelor is known for that first impression rose; the rose people fight for the first night which establishes their street-creds. During student teaching, we all have to fight for our own first impressions that are unique to our experience. Here is the catch: we don’t just have a first impression rose but a year-long impression rose also known as a job recommendation. Without that job recommendation from a collaborating teacher, you may struggle a bit to secure a future job.

5. Two-on-ones aren’t bad. The Bachelor is infamously known for the dreaded two-on-one dates—where two women go on one date with the same man. I think the only thing more awkward than that would be forgetting to put pants on before teaching and finally realizing that you were pant-less after two hours of instruction. I’d like to take a second to compare the two-on-one to a co-teaching model. When you find the right co-teacher, the job actually becomes more fun. Just because there are two teachers in one room does not mean your ability to teach is being questioned or at risk of being taken away. By the end of this student teaching process, we should all be professional co-teachers because we have been with at least one other teacher the entire time.

6. If you aren’t here to make friends, you probably should change majors. There is usually one girl in the bachelor house who “isn’t here to make friends.” This major—this profession really—is a relational job. To teach students means that we need to stay sane and remain effective, something I believe is done through relationships built and fostered among other teachers. While some of the bachelor contestants may be able to get away with that, not making friends may be what ruins you as a teacher.

7. We get a date card every day (minus weekends). Instead of having to wait around for our time to build a connection, we have a date card every day. This is called student teaching. Each day, we have the chance to connect, practice, and spend time with what may or may not be a big part of our future. We don’t have to wait around hoping that our name is on a date card—we all have our individual placements five days a week.

8. Don’t completely throw yourself out there. While women on the show seem to throw themselves at one guy, I don’t think the same thing should be done with student teaching and searching for a future job. Just like Amy Poehler once said, “Treat your career like a bad boyfriend. Here’s the thing. Your career won’t take care of you. It won’t call you back or introduce you to its parents.” While it is important for us to put ourselves out there as new teachers, a little distance keeps us sane and (I would argue) more marketable.

9. Eat food and take care of yourself. Contestants don’t seem to touch the food on their plates during a one-on-one date. I’m sure there are some logistics about eating when being hooked to a microphone (no one wants to hear someone chewing food into a microphone), but we aren’t hooked up to microphones while student teaching. With that said, taking lunch to school is definitely worth it (something that I didn’t do at all my first semester of student teaching).

10. Crying isn’t always the right thing to do in every situation. It seems like most contestants shed more than a few tears. While student teaching definitely presents some tearful/freak out moments, crying doesn’t solve much. There are moments that are inescapable, but whining and crying about every issue sets people up for burnout in the profession. Contestants on the show may be able to get by navigating a sail boat in the ocean of their own tears, but pre-service teachers don’t have that opportunity. Instead of wasting all energy on negative aspects of the journey, taking action in things that we can control is a better use of the little energy we do have.

While student teaching is absolutely not like The Bachelor or any trash TV for that matter, there are quite a few tears shed and monumental changes in our individual lives. I believe by the end of the most dramatic journey yet (YCE 2017-2018), Dr. Birmingham will be able to utter the same words Chris Harrison does after every rose ceremony, “take a moment and say your final goodbyes.” But instead of us saying goodbye to a bachelor, we will be saying goodbye to one another as we launch out into our individual futures as English educators…a journey I cannot wait to embark on.

 

“Fully Involved”

I naively envisioned student teaching requiring maybe 25 hours a week of effort. Being only 23 years old, I pulled off meeting the needs of my internship, while being a furniture salesman. My newfound, livable wage of 40k/year transformed me into a real adult. I no longer existed in the ghetto of cramped student dormitories. I evolved into a man that had his pizza delivered to his house.

Unfortunately, working a second job is forbidden at Exorbitant Furniture. They own all of your time. I was on break one evening and had lesson plans scattered about the table for my American Lit Course. My boss, Ms. Illiteracy, walked in and noticed the paper trail:“What is this mess on my table? *Crumples folder* Teenagers are snowflakes. Which job is putting food on your table?”

She did not apologize or step down; it just became awkward.

I began filling downtime with designing my next unit and reading parent emails: “Lana came home thrilled about winning your essay contest. I did not know she was talented at something.”

I adore this career where I can make even neglectful parents see the value in their children. But why wait? I already had the job! I opened a Google Doc and began typing.

I hand-delivered my resignation letter, stamped with retribution, to Ms. Illiteracy: “I thought about your comments on being a teacher,” I said as I dropped it on her desk.

My students deserve 100% of my time. I now look myself in the mirror with honor.
-Mr. Harley.

REWARD: $1000 for Lost Marbles

I have lost my marbles.

This phrase plays on repeat in my mind. Particularly around 1:58 p.m., when 6^th period starts meandering in. I can feel my internal eyes roll as I greet the 10^th graders.

“Ms. Daily, do we have to do vocab today?”

“Ms. Daily, can I go to the bathroom?”

“I really hate reading Oedipus; can we skip reading today?”

“Does everyone need a Chromebook?”

I don’t know how many times I’ve said to each class, “Come in and read the board. When we are all here I’ll go over our agenda for today.” All the classes, but especially 6^th period, are like herding cats that have each had a pot of coffee. While they work on their vocabulary exercises, I walk around the room glancing at desks to see who is actually working. My mind wanders through the last several years…

I have two kids, a thirteen-year-old and a ten-year-old. I have worked at a daycare for the last five years. Now, I am student teaching. I am surrounded with children 24/7.

I have lost my marbles.

I look at the next desk as I pass and see that Marvin doesn’t even have a pencil out. I pass the next desk and see Rebecca asleep. My blood starts to boil.

“Okay guys, pass up your vocab. I’ll be grading not only for completion but for accuracy!”

In unison the voices groan, “Nooooooooo, Ms. Daily! That’s not fair!”

“Then wake up and do your work.”

The silence stays and my mind wanders again. Can I do this? Can I really make students feel like their thoughts are important when I really want to shout at them that they’re idiots?! Every time I see a phone I want to throw it. Every time I see a student asleep in class I don’t want to just shake their shoulder to wake them up. I want to slap them upside the head and force them to listen to a lecture about how they don’t know how good they have it.

I have lost my marbles.

But then…

Alyssa, who is the bane of my existence, who lives to see just how long I can hold my patience, approaches my desk. I look up and ask her if she’s okay. Alyssa smiles at me. I brace myself for some sarcastic comment.

“I just wanted to tell you I have actually been excited about coming to class. Normally I hate lit. But this has been pretty sick. Like weird and twisted. But sick. You know what sick means, right?”

I laugh, nod my head yes, and give her my best smile.

Inside my head, I break down crying. I hand her $1000 and tell her thank you for finding my marbles.

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.

 

In Other News, the Biathlon Event is a Thing

In a lot of ways, I hate the Winter Olympics.

The weirdly tight snow suits, ski jumpers flying through the sky at an ungodly, parallel-to-the-ground rate, and moguls begging to tear the ACLs of anyone who approaches.

In so many other ways, I can’t help but to love the Winter Olympics.

That same strange-ness begs me to watch with glued eyes as I have that sick feeling where you can’t help but watch if a snowboarder has a fall or a figure skater completely eats it on a jump. There is something wistfully enjoyable about watching these Olympians mess up while you simultaneously deal with a pit in your stomach. The Olympics are sort of twisted, when you think about it. These people are the world’s best athletes. Yet, they mess up all the time, and to make it even better, it is televised for seven billion people to see.

The Olympics never fail to surprise me.

For instance, Is a Biathlon event really a thing? Trust me, I’m going somewhere with this.

Apparently, it has been around for quite some time. One hundred and fifty-seven years, to be exact. It combines the seemingly contradictory elements of skiing and shooting. The exhausting, cross-country skiing mixed with the immediate accuracy and control through shooting proves to conclude that this sport is one of the most challenging that exists. Switching from intense, high power endurance to exact control requires an obscure sense of marksmanship.

I learned about this sport when two of my students turned around and one asked me, “Ms. L, have you ever heard of a biathlon?” In my head, I was thinking, a bath lawn? Lawn that you put in your bath? What is this kid talking about? Then he spelled it out for me. B-i-a-t-h-l-o-n. Ohhhh. I see. “No, I’ve never heard of it. Is it a sport?” I proceeded to Google search this event. Mind you – this was a Friday, my students were working in the computer lab to finish the Write Score test (no comment), and there was some down time. I swear, it isn’t every day that I Google this kind of thing for one of my students.

We proceeded to watch a YouTube video, because, that’s what you do when you’re a teacher and you don’t have the answer to a question.

We watch as these athletes intensely sprint through a track on skis and stop, lay down, pull the gun off their back, and shoot at a target. Our eyes were fixated. It all started making sense. As I watched, I realized something: Biathlons are a lot like teaching.

As teachers, we are always sprinting. Around curves, uphill – sprinting to the finish line that is our “lesson.” We plan in advance, train for these big desires to make our students better people, teach them a lesson, and sometimes miss the target when we stop to shoot and follow through. It requires so much trial and error. We have to figure out which skis fit us best and will be effective enough to efficiently teach. We have to prepare our content and know it like we know the gun on our backs. Sometimes, after sprinting so hard, it becomes worth it when you realize that it’s possible to hit all of your targets.

In essence, we as teachers are Biathlon competitors. Striving to win the gold, every day.

A Recipe for Cheese Toast

When I get home in the afternoons, I always need a little snack. This afternoon, I started a load of laundry like the responsible adult that I am, and then I proceeded to open my laptop and click on the browser. Sometimes, I try to use technology in ways it isn’t meant to be used. This habit has been engrained into my twenty-first-century-white-female-privileged-instant-gratification-craving American brain. For instance, I have had the thought that I should just try and call my missing keys to find out where they have gone. The same thought process goes for my wallet, as well. I never worry about the missing article until the smart part of my brain pipes up in the back saying, “That isn’t in fact a viable option and you may have to rely on your physical senses and/or the range of motion that your body is capable of to locate your overall unnecessary personal items.” In today’s recent experience, I clicked open my browser to Google how my life will turn out. I really enjoy Googling things that I don’t know much about, such as the SS St. Louis, the Mongols, President Jimmy Carter, and Finnish death metal band member’s personal lives. If there’s Wikipedia page I’d like to peruse, it’s the one about my own life. However, I’m a little too early to be looking up my own Wikipedia page and that’s just not how computers work [insert ominous ‘yet’ that echoes into the distance].

Anyways.

This is supposed to be a recipe for cheese toast.

As I was making cheese toast today, I realized that teaching is a lot like making cheese toast. So here’s my recipe for cheese toast, and some musings about teaching.

First, select your bread type. Today, I selected thinly sliced Jewish Rye Bread. This is only too appropriate of a selection as I am currently eyeballs deep in planning my Holocaust unit. Now, in a classroom setting, you don’t get to pick your bread. Your bread is your class. Maybe you got a steaming new loaf of freshman. You could have a whole grain, or bleached and enriched class. Maybe you got the butts of a loaf. Like I said, you don’t get to pick your bread. But you might get to pick your cheese.

Secondly, pick your cheese. I picked shredded parmesan cheese because that’s what I bought for my salads ages ago. I’m all out of salad, but still have plenty of cheese. I am pleased with this cheese/bread pairing because Jewish Rye bread has a very distinct flavor, almost like Sour Dough. I think it’s the rye that makes it taste sourly bitter. Parmesan is not necessarily a sweet cheese, or a light cheese either. It’s kind of dry, as cheeses go. In this recipe, cheese is the metaphor for your curriculum. It could be one lesson, or it could be an entire unit. This could be cheese that a bread connoisseur picked out, or it could be the boring old cheese that everyone eats just because that’s what everyone eats and has eaten for decades. Either way, the cheese has to go on the bread.

The first step of making cheese toast is putting your bread in some sort of incubation device. I prefer a toaster oven. I don’t actually have a toaster, (and that’s kind of a funny story too) so toast is made in the toaster oven. I always put my bread in the toaster oven and wait a minute or two before applying cheese.

The most important step in this entire process is applying the cheese. Obviously, that’s what we as teachers are doing. But there’s so many factors that go into this process. For example, you might grab a generous handful of shredded parmasian cheese and eagerly thrust your fistful into the oven, with the intention of flinging the cheese in the direction of the bread, which is in an oven that is HOT. Teachers have to gauge the preparedness of the bread before applying the cheese. We have make sure the cheese is appropriate for the bread. We can’t just apply any old cheese, it has to be relevant cheese! Insightful cheese! Cheese that benefits the bread! Cheese selected through the reflection on data about the bread! It’s a very detailed process. I feel confident in my ability to pair cheese and bread; it’s the application that requires finesse. As a novice, my gusto combined with my poor depth perception was slightly off and as I was throwing my handful of parmesan cheese at my bread, I burnt the hell out of the top of my hand on the oven ceiling and the cheese went everywhere. It got on some of the bread, but not all of it. This really happened in my kitchen 45 minutes ago.

It also really happened in my classroom. After creating a baller half-sheet with a thesis formula and giving them examples on the board, I abandoned the lesson ten minutes in. The blank stares were suffocating. My gusto threw cheese all over the place. However, a few days later, when the students were asking how to write a thesis, I had a great resource for them. Their thesis statements are now currently awe-inspiring.

Like I said. It’s the application that takes finesse.