I have always been a staunch realist. I have NEVER been a person to see a glass half-full. Even though I won't necessarily consider it half-empty (a pessimist? me?), I have always thought of it as just a glass with not enough water in it to fully quince my thirst. In layman's terms, things are as they appear. It is what it is. Straight, no chaser. You get the cliches.
I have also been a person who has been an expert at my craft. In this profession, you could say that I "have arrived". Prior to this past year, I only served as a classroom teacher for 3 years. The principal I worked for then called me, in all my 24 years of wisdom, a "veteran teacher". I was very surprised at this assessment during my tenure moment: that term was always reserved for teachers who had spent many, many moons in hallowed halls and had many, many stories to tell you-the novice teacher- chronicling their adventures in teaching. In my 3 years of teaching, I was considered a darn good teacher.
In my fourth year as an educator, my district propelled me to the top of the literacy totem pole as a literacy coach. My task- avoiding becoming the "reading Nazi" and truly mentor teachers and lead my school into AYP success. That I did for 3 years and was successful in making AYP all 3 years. I was, at 25 years old, giving professional development for English teachers throughout the district, running departmental meetings, shaping curriculum, mentoring first year teachers...living the LIFE. I think what added to my reputation was the fact that I was a realistic expert. I knew what I was talking about and the research behind it and was frank with them about the expectation of them getting the job done. Yeah everybody didn't like me, but they respected me. This whole idea of "I love you but this is business" really sums up my attitude about work. And I was good at it. I helped in the making of 14 excellent teachers during my time as a specialist.
Then all of a sudden, reality came crashing down, as my husband (who was hired in Memphis and commuted 6 hours on weekends to be with me and our sons) put his foot down and told me I had to move to Memphis.
Here I was, 7 years into my career, starting over. Almost instantaneously, all of my storied career was reduced to a resume.
So being the realistic expert I am, I started over, and that was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. Take it from me- it is not easy to close your eyes to craziness and unprofessionalism running a muck all around you when you know you have the wisdom to possibly suggest better. Envision the Titanic- you are in the band, and even though the damned boat is sinking, you are being paid to do your job, and thus sink with the boat. That sums up my first year.
But, I made a little of a splash. My scores were not hardly as disappointing as much of the STATE of TENNESSEE, so that says a lot. If that makes any sense.
My principal, who believes in my ability, decided in this second year, to really push me (whether he knows it or not). I was chosen to teach some upper level courses. In my mind, being the realist I am, decided that I could use this as an opportunity to pull out some college stuff and try to force the kids to be mature learners. Yeah, it could be a daunting task, but clearly I had the ability and the background knowledge to get this done...............
However, shortly into planning, I realized, I was out of my comfort zone. Being in the Middle School for 6 years and teaching 10th grade in my 7th, has really removed me from English Literature and rhetoric exponentially. I am no longer the Shakespeare buff; no longer the quoter of Langston Hughes and Robert Frost. No longer the lover of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, the reader of critical analysis or the intellectual who could allude in and out of literature. No longer the admirer of the dark charm of J. Alfred Prufrock. No longer the MLA and APA whiz. Not even the scholar who would have realized the last 5 sentences constituted an aphorism! I realized, in essence, that I have either dumbed myself down or let myself go. I received my M.A. a little over 5 years ago now, and I am certainly convinced that furthering my education is an action that is well overdue. I have to find that 24 year old English student and merge her with this now almost 30 year old woman who has matured pedagogically. Thanks to this, I now consider myself having moonlighted as a M.A. in the past 5 years, because I certainly didn't use ANYTHING I learned in school during my teaching career. What and how I had been teaching was merely what I had learned as a teacher! Which was really not the teaching of literature, but clearly teaching students how to read and comprehend, and Lord knows I definitely did NOT learn that skill in school.
That realization angered me: what was the point of going to school to be a teacher, if most of what you used was on the job training skills rather than what you amassed serious debt TRYING to learn? Secondary education is clearly for people who are going straight to high school to teach because my matriculation at the school of education did not teach me what I needed to know as a middle school and early high school teacher.
The way I came to this realization was unnerving: I was in a training with higher level English teachers recently, and found it difficult to converse about syllogisms and enthymemes and troupes and schemes with them. Those terms were interred in the land of "lost vocabulary". I also attempted to attend a William Faulkner convention and when I got a whiff of the conversations those people were having, I turned tail out of there before they began asking who the hell gave me a graduate degree.
I guess that is essentially what happens to Middle School and 9th and 10th grade teachers who are trained as secondary teacers: removed from the canon and the likes of Poe and Hawthorne to trade them in for Walter Dean Myers, Gary Soto and Ann M. Martin.
Nothing wrong with adolescent literature- except that unless you actively continue with your "English buff" status by being a part of literature groups or in school, you lose it. The issue I am tackling with bothers me because I have ALWAYS been the expert; in this case, I still have quite a bit to re-learn. Experts don't believe in this: that there are ideas you don't know or can't remember in your area of expertise. In a little over a month, I have to reprogram my mind to the world of American Literature and rhetoric and teach my hungry students how to write and think by any means necessary. The realist in me understands that I AM an expert and a heavily proactive person, and that I have a lot to do to design this course AND make it rigorous.
They don't know how much work that is. How many late nights that will be. How much dedication it takes on my part. I told my students last year, when they asked me to move with them to eleventh grade, that I had taught them everything in my brain. What I should have said is I had taught them everything I had taught recently, which was what the average middle or high-schooler was supposed to know. Now, in 11th grade AP, we have a whole world of challenge that we all are about to encounter, which really starts with me excavating the lost lore within my head. I swear, it is there. I just have to go into seclusion and find the M.A. that resides inside of me.
And as the addict goes to rehab to learn how to be the person they were before the addiction, so will my journey back to being the English Literature teacher I was when I completed graduate school 5 years ago.
Boy, I feel so sorry for the AP students who will follow this group of juniors.
No comments:
Post a Comment