It was not the first time during my
half decade progression from non-traditional college freshman to
nearly-fully-trained student teacher that I was grateful for my age. Many times
as a college student, I have muttered under my breath with regrets that I did
not start college sooner. Frequently I have groaned as the load of diligent
student interfered with my duties as a devoted husband and attentive father. My
age has occasionally been a benefit however, and this day it was definitely a
benefit. Today I was glad to be (and look) old.
Today I had the pleasure of meeting
with an upset parent. This parent had told my Cooperating Teacher that she was
not going to have “some student teacher picking on her daughter” and that she
would “be right there to straighten this out.’’ I was terrified. My CT smiled
and tried to offer calming anecdotes. This is part of the job. These things
happen. She only has her daughter’s side of the story. You have been doing an
excellent job, Erich. You have nothing to worry about. Appreciative as I was
for her efforts, I was still terrified. The student in question (let’s call her
Sara) had been a challenge since the first day of the school year. She has a
big personality, a booming voice, the respect of her classmates, and perhaps the
biggest brain in the 6th grade. She has strong convictions and she
is as stubborn as a… non-traditional student teacher with a job to do.
Sara has challenged me on my
teaching strategies, the relevance or accuracy of content material, and on a
personal level as a man dealing with a 12 year old young woman. On some
occasions, her ferocity has been a tremendous ally, an agent of educational
progress in the classroom. More often however, it has been a storm cloud on my
picnic. Recently, her challenges have grown more frequent and more personal in
nature. She’s smart and quick-witted, but lacks the self-control to use either
trait to her advantage, yet. She may someday rule the world, but I will not let
her rule my student teaching classroom.
Earlier this week I resorted to rotating her to the next classroom for
the sake of getting through the day’s lesson. She responded in loud defiance
and stormed her way directly to the office in spite in spite of the punishment
she knew would ensue. After filing my first ever disciplinary report (I felt
sick as I wrote my summary of the events) Sara was put in ISS the following
day. Twas a Thursday she spent brooding In-School Suspension… As she passed me in the hall after school I said
to her “Tomorrow’s a new day, Sara.”
Friday WAS a new day in my mind. My
age and mileage has taught me to make efforts to view life in that way. Sara
had other ideas as class began. Again she made her opinions known about
seemingly every aspect of the lesson, the environment, and the world. I had
planned for the students to spend the class period writing the final copies of
their district mandates essays. I have had success with YouTube-ing “epic video
game music” and running a slide show of social studies relevant images to
accompany the epic music. Her complaints drowned out the symphonic tones and
worse yet, distracted her peers. I paused the music and asked everyone to stand
up for a brain break. I stood on a table and the students followed my example
as I stretched my back, legs, arms, and (wait for it) hands.
It was the hand stretching that set
Sara off again. “My finger hurts” she said. “I don’t care.” I responded. The
pin was pulled from her internal grenade and I didn’t even know. A teacher HAS
to say “I don’t care” at least twenty times a week in a 6th grade
classroom. We finished stretching and students got back to writing, Sara was
even quiet. I closed class a few moments early (I like to take a few minutes to
ask what exciting weekend plans everyone has) and the students lined up near
the door. Sara opposed to everything
everyone said until I suggested that she keep her opinions to herself for
another 30 seconds until class is over. “Whatever, weirdo” she said. Her
classmates laughed. The CT flew into action. “That’s it! That’s enough. You’re
being disrespectful and I’m calling your mother.” Before I knew it, the bell
rang, students left, and the CT was approaching me with the phone in her hand.
“Mom’s coming up here to talk it out. She’s upset. She says no student teacher
is going to push her daughter around.”
An hour later, the principal was
asking if my CT and I could come to his office to meet with Sara’s mom. We
walked the quiet halls and the CT and principal both offered encouraging words.
“It’s been nice knowing you.” He said. No- that was my imagination. “I remember
the gist of their combined messages was “This is part of the job you have
chosen to pursue. It’s going to happen. This is a good learning opportunity.” I
took a deep breath as he opened his office door. Sara glared up at me from her
seat beside her mother, who also glared up at me from her seat.
My eyes met the eyes of an angry
and protective mother. I watched her size me up. She looked at my inexpensive
tennis shoes, my less than cutting edge fashion attire, my clean shaven face
(no trendy soul patch or goatee here), my weary wrinkles and my bald head. I felt
her assessment of me go from “Wannabe Teacher Jerk-off Hipster Kid” to a guy who has
mileage, street smarts, social awareness, and life experiences enough to maybe even
manage some wisdom. Most of all, I think that she saw an older guy who
genuinely wants to be a positive influence on her daughter’s life.
As the meeting proceeded, Sara’s
version of the story melted under scrutiny. Her mother grew frustrated with her
daughter’s trivial complaints and reported inability to control her mouth in
class. The CT and principal spoke kindly and confidently on my behalf. She
warmed as I mentioned some of Sara’s great efforts and successes. Smiles were
being shared by all of the adults in the room as the meeting concluded. Sara
even managed to show some slight remorse for lying about me. It was a learning
experience for me and I hope for her. We still have months to spend together.
