So far, my life-after-education seems to be a series of "let's pretend" games.
First, I pretended I had the slightest interest in 9-5 desk job in the corporate world: wearing all black, becoming extremely pale and deficient in Vitamin D, getting really good at talking a whole lot and not saying anything, and spending the rest of my life trapped in a cubicle on a corporate hamster wheel. Fortunately, while I may have been fooling myself into thinking I was cut out for this sort of lifestyle, almost no one else was buying my disguise, and so I came to my senses.
Then I decided to play the "let's just see where life takes me" game. I did a whole lot of sitting around, even more cleaning and a little bit of self-contemplating, but all this nothingness got old pretty fast. Clearly, all dreams of professional free loading are out of the question. Too much unscheduled time does dangerous things to the mind.
Finally, I played the restaurant business game, and while it was fun and helped fill my need for a small sense of purpose and a bit of scheduled time, it didn't take long for me to realize that a life catering to consumers (who may be rude, overly demanding, have petty grievances, or even a Varuca Salt attitude on life) for no other reason than to make them happy for an hour (or five) while they wine (and whine) and dine isn't really what I'm cut out for either. It is good to know my psyche is yearning for something with a little more substance.
This go-around, I'm excited to be pretending to be a teacher. Though I have almost no teaching experience at all (other than one afternoon as a substitute art teacher and my life spent on the receiving end of the profession), I am pretty sure, based on what I have learned about myself thus far, it will be a fulfilling opportunity.
So far, after three weeks on the job, I'd say I have managed to get in a grand total of 12 minutes of desk sitting time. Yes, that's TOTAL. Obviously, this is not what one might call a desk job. Check one. Furthermore, if I bribe my students into behaving, by promising recess time, I can work on my tan and avoid the oh so out of style vampire look popular among cube-gophers the world round. Check two. Plus, who doesn't find it fulfilling to have an entire room of children fixed on you, fascinated by your words and listening intently to everything you say... It sounds great. I wouldn't know.
As with all things that I know next to nothing about and have some bizarre desire to learn more on, when I found out I would be teaching for the summer, I hit the library for a bit of research.
Throughout my reading, successful class room management seemed to be the North Star of the education world. Mastering this elusive gem of a concept meant star-studded, expert status for sure. Even just having a grasp on the concept alluded to pro ranking.
Yet, there seemed to be as many different theories and tactics on how to achieve good classroom management as there were people to write about the subject, and just as many ideas on what actually constituted good classroom management. One thing was certain though. While not all teachers with good classroom management skills are good teachers, all good teachers had mastered the art of classroom management. Clearly, this was important stuff.
At the very least, this requires the ability to instill bone quivering fear in your students (and most might put you in the camp of bad teaching if this is your method of choice). More universally, successful classroom management requires a whole lot of self-confidence and great assurance in your right to be standing at the front of the class talking ... A healthy set of lungs (if not a bull whip or lasso) may also prove handy.
Perhaps because my own school days are a little too close for comfort, I find myself gravitating more towards the let's-be-friends role and less towards the authoritative educator role that would clearly be more suitable. What can I say, high school may always haunt me. With this attitude though, it should be of no surprise - to everyone else - that my kids are just a little wild and crazy.
In fact, Lord of the Flies-esqu mayhem may not even begin to cover it. My kids cartwheel across the room. They jump over chairs and crawl under tables. They hit and kick and call each other names. They never use inside voices. I need nothing short of a Conch shell to get their attention and a miracle equivalent to walking on water to keep it. I question their understanding of the concept of a straight line ... and silence. And all of this is an improvement from day 1.
Still, I thought I was doing pretty well until I happened to catch a glimpse of the other teacher's classroom. All of her 7, 8 and 9 year olds appeared to be practicers of Zen Buddhism while mine were exhibiting their right to protest. Her students were sitting calmly - their bottoms planted firmly in their chairs and all four of their chair legs secured to the ground. They were coloring - IN the lines. They were using 3" voices! Nowhere to be seen were the crayon graveyards or abandoned game pieces or scattered pencil shavings that littered my room. This lady had it figured out, and I had missed the memo (sadly, sometimes the library doesn't have all the answers. I guess that's a life-after-education lesson learned).
Clearly, it's going to be a long summer. Here's to hoping my learning curve is steep.
