Undercover Teacher

First, let me explain:  I wasn’t really undercover when I began teaching Senior English last year.  I mean, I was legit—I had a temporary teaching certificate from the state to teach English in secondary schools with a three-year expiration date.  I was good to go.

So I wasn’t a detective hiding undercover in the school system to dig up corruption and drug deals; I was simply a writer looking for a way to supplement my income.  The only corrupt things I would have found were some computer files and someone stealing someone’s else yogurt from the break room refrigerator.  Drug deals, what do I know from drug deals?  I did hand out Advil occasionally from my desk drawer.  It was not name-brand, though, so I think it was okay.

Undercover might refer to the place that I really wanted to be, at 7 a.m. in the morning, under the soft comforter on my bed on chilly winter mornings, instead of chained to a desk, with 25 different pair of eyes staring at me each class.  But, we’ll get to that.

I had approached the high school looking for a part-time gig teaching creative writing, something I knew all about.  The administration told me they had a position in Senior English open.  I took the test for my certificate and passed.  They unlocked the door to my classroom and those first 25 faces watched my every move.  I was home.

The honeymoon period went well, I think, even though I remained in a slightly overwhelmed state for most of that second semester, my first year teaching.  I had 6 classes, 135 students and many of those teens actually seemed to like me better than the two teenagers I had at home. We learned about satire and the English poets together, I was learning the material just one step ahead of my students, following and adapting another senior teacher’s well-thought out lesson plans, to allow for creative projects and more writing assignments, which became my trademark.

A teacher’s life was much tougher than I thought it would be.  There were students who had challenges at home, spilling out into their school life; there were others who were so needy they glommed onto their English teacher for support, risking pulling us all down.  There were students with senioritis- yes, a real disease, affecting those kids so close to high school graduation that they chance losing it all from their lazy behavior.  And there were kids with attitude.

It was an adventure of the highest degree, one that I will never regret.  I probably learned just as much from those kids as they learned from me and I will be forever grateful.  But, continue teaching at this time in my life?  Not so much.

One of the first things I learned as a high school teacher was to show no fear.  Just like rumors of sharks and feral dogs, students can sense the fear and the slightest lack of confidence.  Then once one student attacks, the others will see your weakness.  They won’t listen, they won’t learn.  They won’t behave.  And for God sakes, don’t CRY in front of them.  Eyes wide open and face the class.  Laugh when you feel like crying. 

Feed them regularly and they won’t bite.  A little candy goes a long way, so do donuts and orange juice.  If you feed them sugar in your class, they will love you and get all crazy in the next class period for another teacher.  It’s a win-win.

Find someone who will respond when you ask for help and don’t be afraid to ask for it. This became difficult this year, as the amendment limiting class size dictated smaller classes, which meant more teachers were needed. Budget didn’t allow hiring new teachers, so the high schools teachers had to teach 7 classes instead of 6.  As every high school teacher in our county took on an extra class, that meant  extra 25 students= 25 more papers and tests to grade, names to learn and no more free period in the middle of the days to catch up on work and plan ahead. 

My slightly overwhelmed state became completely overwhelmed.  Even well-trained, experienced teachers had their hands full.  That meant few were available to lend their voice of experience to a newbie.  And also, since teachers no longer had a free mid-day planning period, there was no time or opportunity to ask another teacher how they were handling things.  I was in solitary confinement.

That leads right to the next insight: Don’t drink coffee or ice tea in the morning because the bathrooms are far away and hard to reach in the short 5 minute intervals between classes.  If you run, the deans ask if there’s something wrong—besides it’s hard to navigate in a hall full of teenagers all trying to saunter around and look like they have no particular place to go.  Calling out, “Move, I have to go potty,” will not engender their respect.

Oh, I learned so much more in the year that I taught Senior English, and if held hostage by an enemy spy, I could probably bore them to death with some of that material.  For instance,   I learned that Beowulf the movie is nothing like the famous Anglo-Saxon poem.  Angelina Jolie is not what Grendel’s mother really looks like.  And if you show the kids the movie, all they remember is Jolie.

I learned the lesson of Macbeth may be that absolute power corrupts absolutely and everyone can learn from that. (Oh, here’s the corruption you may have been seeking!)  Note to those seeking elected office, read Macbeth!

I learned teaching is so much more than what it looks like  from the outside and that there truly is a way to reach most students, sometimes through different methods of teaching, sometimes through hard love and sometimes by taking no prisoners.   There are also students, forgive me, superintendent, who deserve to be left behind. 

I wish I had discovered how hard it is to be a teacher while my children were young, so I could have appreciated their teachers more all through their school years.  Bless you, teachers, where ‘ere you be.

As for today, the sky is an inviting blue, and calling my name.  My running shoes won’t lace themselves and the computer won’t turn itself on and write my assignments. But I can turn my pillow over to the cool side and lie in bed for just a few more minutes, before I head out to the possibilities in the world beyond the classroom.