Time for Another Transition January 22, 2010

Last Friday, I withdrew from student teaching.  The decision was a culmination of many things, but what it came down to was that I realized that teaching was not what I wanted to pursue as a career, and I thought, If I know that much after spending two weeks student teaching and can still withdraw without losing my tuition, then why finish out the semester? I decided all of this on Thursday night.  It had been a slow realization that teaching was not the right path for me—that had been dawning on me gradually throughout the program, and student teaching made it even more apparent.  Until Thursday, however, I had planned on finishing my certification before deciding for sure what I wanted to do next.

What changed on Thursday was that I had my first observation with my teacher from UB.  I didn’t think it went terribly.  It didn’t go as well as it could have, but it was only my second week teaching, after all.  I was observed during third period, and we were supposed to have a conference to discuss the observation fourth period between my UB teacher, the high school teacher, and me.  First, they asked me how I thought the lesson had gone.  Then, the high school teacher began to go down her list of what I did wrong.  Eventually my UB teacher had to cut her off in order to start going down her own list.  Then she asked to meet with me again seventh period to discuss more of what I had done wrong.  I taught again eighth period, and ninth period the high school teacher went over even more of it with me.  That’s a total of about two hours of being told that everything I did was wrong.

What I Did Right:

• I had “good board writing” for a beginning teacher.
• Parts of my lesson plans were okay.
• I am smart. (?)

What I Did Wrong (a small sample of what essentially amounted to “everything else”):

• My clothes were “all wrong” for a teacher.  (I do not think that this was true, but I was told that I should be wearing a suit jacket every day.)
• I almost completely lacked an “authoritative presence.”
• I did not have enough inflection in my voice, or volume.
• My lessons were not cohesive enough.
• I failed to anticipate possible student behaviors.
• I failed to remain aware of what was going on in all parts of the classroom.
• I tended to talk over the students, rather than waiting for complete silence.
• The questions I asked were ineffective.
• I did not circulate through class enough.
• I lost my train of thought.

I agreed with most of what they said and tried to think of ways of improving.  It was not so much this criticism that bothered me, because most of it did not surprise me.  What bothered me was the talk I had with the high school teacher after I taught again eighth period.  She berated me for failing to show significant improvement between third and eighth periods in any of the 150 different areas which she and my UB teacher told me needed improvement, implied that I was not trying at all (which was pretty frustrating because I had been trying the best I possibly could), and implied that I had no enthusiasm for teaching or literature.  I explained that it was difficult for me to show a lot of enthusiasm while I was teaching because I was still new and nervous and didn’t feel like I knew what I was doing.  Truthfully, it was pretty harsh.  But I did manage, just barely, not to cry in front of her.

So I did a lot of thinking Thursday night.  I realized that a lot of the criticism they had given me was right on.  I do not have an authoritative presence because I am not an authoritative person; I never have been.  I am not comfortable being in charge of 30 adolescents and bossing them around.  I feel like I would do better teaching college, where theoretically I am not holding people in class against their will.  I’m not a loud person, and I have an extremely mellow demeanor—it’s difficult for me to act animated.  I’m a “big picture” thinker when planning in general and have trouble ironing out details, which is a big problem in teaching.  I am not and have never been a fan of public speaking, and although I am improving, I do not enjoy it.  Losing my train of thought is a very common occurrence in my daily life, and it was definitely interfering with my teaching.  I think that is just part of how my brain functions, and I have no idea how to go about changing it.

Most, if not all, of these issues are things that I could work on and improve.  None of them by itself would have been a deal-breaker.  Taken all together, however, I feel that this list indicates that I do not have the ideal personality for a teacher.  Maybe I could become a good teacher, but I would have a long, difficult way to go.  I had expected it to be difficult going into teaching but I had not realized just how far I was as a person from who and where I needed to be in order to do this job well.  The problem was not that I couldn’t do it—I could have, if I had wanted it badly enough.  If teaching had been my one true passion in life, then I could have done it.  But I went into this program weighing and wondering whether teaching would be for me, and the answer fluctuated daily.  I did not have the passion or commitment necessary, and I knew this.  Because of all of these things together, I decided to withdraw.

Just to clarify, NONE of my reasons included:

• I didn’t like the students.  (I did, very much.)
• I didn’t like the teachers.  (I liked them, too.)
• I had a bad observation.  (I did, but that was not the reason I withdrew—rather, I think it was the catalyst that gave me the impetus that I needed to actually take action by withdrawing, rather than wallowing in uncertainty indefinitely.)
• Teaching was “too difficult.”  (It was difficult, but I could have surmounted this had I had the necessary passion and dedication.)

That was a week ago.  I felt bad about inconveniencing the high school teacher for whom I was student teaching, as well as the high school students and the other student teachers in the program, but I knew that I couldn’t base my decision on that.  And I haven’t regretted it.  I feel better deep down knowing that I’m not in a program preparing me for a career that I am increasingly uncertain that I want to pursue, and that is how I know that I made the right decision.  I’ve learned a lot from my time in the program and I certainly would not consider it time wasted—however, it’s time for me to move on.  Now I’m looking for a job just to support myself while I figure out what I want to do long-term.  The career center at my undergraduate school is helping me with the long-term aspect, and today I applied for a call center job that would use my Spanish language skills.  I have more tests to take for them on Monday, after which I should know whether I got the job.

So I hope you enjoyed that extremely lengthy update on my life.

What I Learned in My First Week of Student Teaching January 9, 2010

◊  Even for tenth graders, you have to make your instructions HIGHLY SPECIFIC for them to complete a task.  For example, instead of saying “Make two lists,” you need to say “Take out a sheet of paper.  Divide it into columns like this.  Now make a list of ______ and ______.  Make sure you have at least [#] examples in each column.”

◊  You have to make sure the room is {silent} before you start giving instructions.  This is extremely difficult to accomplish.

◊  If you tell students to work on something silently for a while, then if they work well they may speak with a partner afterward, sometimes they just talk the whole time in spite of you.

◊  A lot of teaching high school involves policing the students.  I don’t like this part.

◊  Students give you a whole range of effort levels in projects, from creating artistic masterpieces to scribbling a face in marker at the beginning of class.

◊  Grading projects takes a REALLY FREAKING LONG TIME.

◊  I have no idea how to grade.

◊  UB paperwork is a pain in the a$$ sometimes (okay, a lot of the time).

◊  Elaborate lesson plans do you little good in the actual process of teaching.  It’s better to have a bulleted list of what you need to say and remember.

◊  Most online videos are blocked by the district, along with my Gmail.  Hooray, censorship.

◊  There is a significant amount of drama between teachers and administration.

◊  There is not enough time in the freaking day.  This one is really getting to me this weekend.  It took me so long to grade everyone’s projects, and I still have to re-create lesson plans from last week to hand in for my class at UB on Tuesday, make lesson plans through at least Wednesday of next week, read through the beginning of Macbeth and mark down things I need to point out or discuss with the students, and go through the various materials I want the students to view and analyze after Act I.  I would also love to see my friends and catch up on sleep—two dreams which I anticipate being fairly elusive throughout this semester.  It’s pretty frustrating because the things I care about the most are what ends up getting shoved aside.

Conclusion:  I don’t know yet.  At the beginning of the week I was thinking that teaching was definitely not for me.  On Friday I was almost enjoying it.  As soon as I started getting emails from UB again, I considered dropping out.  I will keep you posted.

Commitment October 18, 2009

In my dream, I am in the desert, climbing sand dune cliffs with a partner. I begin to slip as the sand crumbles away beneath my feet, and I consider throwing my weight forward or grabbing onto a rock, but I don’t. Instead I let myself fall as my partner looks on, surprised, intrigued. I watch the mineral strata marking the side of the cliff blur before my eyes as I descend. My feet hit against something nearly solid and I grab onto it with my hands, catching myself on a ledge about five feet from the ground. “Well, are you coming back up?” my partner asks. I look beneath me, then above. The ground is so much closer than the top of the climb…

Someone said to me recently: “You’re never going to succeed at something if you’re not really committed to it.” That line has been etched in my mind ever since. I never really thought of myself as having commitment issues (like the cliché of men in relationships), but it does seem to follow naturally from indecisiveness. Another friend sent me an article back in May that was published in EYE WEEKLY, a free weekly newspaper in Toronto, which asserted that modern twentysomethings “can’t make any decisions, because they don’t know what they want, and they don’t know what they want because they don’t know who they are, and they don’t know who they are because they’re allowed to be anyone they want.” Essentially, we are paralyzed in the face of an excess of freedom that leaves us unable to commit to any one outcome, because in making that choice we would be destroying all the other possibilities. We want to make sure that what we choose is really the best option, but with near-infinite options, won’t there always be one that seems better?

I struggle with this a lot.

And I wonder if I’m going into teacher school with the wrong sort of attitude. Most of the time, the sorts of thoughts going through my head are, “Is this really where I should be? Will I really be any good at this? Will I really enjoy this? Is this career the best fit for my personality? If grad school is stressing me out this much, how on earth am I going to handle teaching? And what am I doing spending so much money on grad school when odds are I’m going to have to sub for years before I get an actual teaching job anyway? I just have to make it through this semester, then student teaching next semester. Then just two courses in the summer and I’ll be certified, and if I don’t want to keep going for the masters I don’t have to.” There are other days, though, when I feel excited about teaching and start to think that I could really do this. But I’m so easily discouraged. There is so much that I’m worried about. I don’t like the idea of being so much a part of The System, and having to jump through all the ridiculous hoops of grad school, which it seems continue into the profession as well. (Am I being unrealistic, though? Will any job be like that? Am I struggling more with grad school, with teaching, or with adulthood in general?) I don’t feel capable of devoting my entire life to a profession at the age of twenty-three. I’m not ready for this yet.

Essentially, I’m not 100% committed to this teacher school decision at this point in my life. Would I have a better chance of succeeding if I could somehow foster a conviction within me that this is where I am absolutely meant to be, and that this what I want above all else? Probably. But I’m not too keen on self-brainwashing. Is commitment something that has to be forced, or should it just come naturally when I find where I’m meant to be? And what does “meant to be” mean? Am I implying that I believe in fate? I don’t think I do, exactly… I don’t believe in predestination, but I would like to believe that there is a kind of natural order to things. “Would like to believe” ≠ “believe unconditionally,” but it is a basis I can go on until proven otherwise.

What is the nature of commitment for you?

Should I keep seeking my ideal career, or should I just “grow up and get a job”?

Suggestions welcome.

Professional Uncertainty September 17, 2009

Grad School, Day 12. I get to school fifteen minutes before my class starts and drive all around that side of campus without finding a single parking spot. Now, I think, do I drive to the other side of campus on the slim chance that there’s actually parking left there, or do I try the “Center for Tomorrow” lot mentioned on all the signs? (“If lot full, use Center for Tomorrow lot.”) I get to that lot to find that it barely even has parking spaces—people just kind of leave their cars wherever they want. This has to be the sketchiest lot on campus. Then I walk all the way back to campus, getting to my class about seven minutes late. Since it’s a big class and I’m the last one there, I don’t get a desk and have to balance my notebook on my lap for the whole three hours. After the first hour or so, I start planning to go to the Tim Horton’s stand on the next floor for tea during the break because I could use the caffeine. The professor gives us a break later than usual, and when I get there I see the woman just closing up. Tea-less, I walk back to class and sit down just to hear some of my classmates talking about how long the homework took them for our class tomorrow—homework I haven’t even looked at yet because I’ve been too busy doing the homework for all my other classes, and trying to eat and sleep occasionally. When class ends, I go print out the assignments for Thursday (having to wait 15 minutes for them to print because there are SO MANY PEOPLE at this school) and make the (approximately) four-mile trek back to my car.

Yeah. Grad school. Why am I doing this again?

Because I want to teach. …I think. I’m not 100% positive that I want to teach, and I’m even less positive that I’ll be any good at it, but I’m never 100% positive about anything, so I’m going to throw all my effort into this and see how it goes. Some days I actually start to feel like a teacher, or at least an aspiring teacher; but then other days I’m just full of doubts. I look at the teachers around me and wonder if I can ever actually be like them—instinct says no. But then, that’s not necessarily a problem. No one said I had to precisely emulate anyone else in order to be a good teacher. In theory, I can be a good teacher and still be me.

In spite of the frustrations, grad school is going pretty well so far. It’s more intense than I’d expected. I’ve been spending most of my week swamped with homework, just trying to get a decent amount of sleep—hence the lack of posting here. But! I am actually learning. It’s not like I’m taking courses that might never have a practical application: EVERYTHING has a practical application. I feel like I am definitely getting my money’s worth in education here, and that, if nothing else, is pretty comforting.

Discernment Deliberation April 5, 2009

While taking a shower tonight, I came to the conclusion that I should not be a teacher. I come to these sorts of conclusions a lot and then change my mind, so it might not count for a whole lot yet, but hear me out. When I examine my motivations, I start to realize that they’re all abstract—I want to become a teacher because the idea of it appeals to me, but most of its appeal does not come from specific experiences I have had teaching. Just because I like teaching in general, does not mean that it’s the right fit for me. I don’t know if I have the patience or the energy or the inner peace at this point. Also, I think that a lot of the reason I want to become a teacher is that I’ve been blessed to know a lot of amazing people who are teachers, and they’ve inspired me to want to be like them. When I think about it, though, there are a lot of amazing people who are not teachers as well—what makes people amazing, at least in the sense that I’m referring to, is that they’re doing something they’re passionate about, they’re doing it well, and they’re totally dedicated to it and energized by it. So instead of trying to emulate specific details of the lives of people I admire, maybe I should be figuring out what that one thing is for me, the thing that ignites my enthusiasm and stirs me to pursue it above all else. My roommate Julie gave me the advice that I should think about what I’m good at, what makes me happy, and what the world needs from me; the point these three intersect is where I belong. The trouble is that I don’t even know the answers to the smaller questions, much less the larger ones…

(Update:  I found out the day after I wrote this that I got into grad school.)

The trouble with uncertainty is… January 19, 2009

…that planning ahead is a bitch. It’s late January, and my application to UB is due on February first. I have one essay written so far, and it’s a mediocre one at best. I hate having to lie on applications. I’m stuck on the second essay, because the first question is “Why do you want to be a teacher?” Well, UB, the thing is that I’m not sure I do—I’m really not sure about much in life. It would be better if you asked why I think I want to be a teacher. In that case I would explain to you that I think I want to be a teacher because of all the jobs that I’ve held, tutoring was the one that I enjoyed the most, and teaching really appeals to me in theory. I’m not sure about it, though, because I’ve never done it: I’ve never taught my own class. And I’m afraid of it eating up my whole life, because I’m only twenty-two years old for God’s sake, and I’m not ready to sacrifice my whole life to anything just yet.

Career-wise though, it’s the best idea that I have, and I’m reasonably sure (on my own standards of certainty here, which, granted, are not very high) that it is what I want to do in the long run. But, you know, it isn’t the long run yet. I just graduated from school eight lousy months ago after spending the past 18 years there; forgive me if I’m a little reluctant to sign my life back over to the institution so quickly. I want to teach, but I’d like to live first so that I have more material to teach. You know? Like real, concrete experiences. I don’t know. I don’t feel like a real adult yet; I still don’t feel like I have myself figured out well enough to make any serious life decisions. I get the general impression that people think I’m being stupid and I should just pick a fucking career and get cracking, because that’s the American way. But if I’m just going to live by the book, then why bother living?

I’m starting to acknowledge that I’m never going to be 100% certain about anything I do, so after a point the best I can do is to pick something I think I’ll like and just go with it. And if I don’t like it, well, I can figure something else out afterward. I just keep chasing myself in circles. Part of me wants to go to grad school just to do it and to have this aggravating decision-making process over with; but then I swing around the other way and insist that this is something I can’t just rush into, and it’s okay to take my time until I really get things figured out.

What am I so afraid of?