New Teacher, Part Two.

Ms. Miracle New Teacher (which I do not mean facetiously, only in reference to her arrival being a miracle) is somewhat of a challenge to me. She has turned me into the "master teacher" (HA.) as I try to cram all of my Summer Institute training and first month's experience into a few after-school "how to be a teacher" sessions. As neither one of us studied education at university, we find ourselves entirely unprepared to be educators in a school so wholly unlike our own educational experiences in European or Middle-class American elementary and secondary schools, let alone like our university experience.

More than anything, I find it annoying that her presence points out to me all my failures. The times I've had to confess things like "yeah, you're supposed to document that, but half the time, I don't," are beginning to add up. I can see in her eyes the same zeal I had a little over a month ago, though I believe the past three days have been a baptism of sorts. Her "trial by fire" came directly with the students she'd be teaching; mine came with two small groups of rising sixth graders at a different school. Whereas I studied my "cooperating teacher" this summer and noted all the things she did that our New Teacher Institute manual said not to do. (I saw, with glee, how much an example of the "don't do this" school of education she was, and how much better off we were because we had already learned everything we needed.)

Let's just say that I'd like to go back to speak to my previous summer self. Or, more likely, to slap some sense into her.

Today I was ill, and not a little bit tired and worn out from all the crying and whining I did yesterday (see the "I hate them" series.) Frankly, I would have gone home if I hadn't known that the school would not find a substitute and would instead simply stick my poor new teacher into those rooms by herself. Being (as she would be) without a lesson plan, as completing my emergency lesson plans is another area in which I have failed completely, she would no doubt run out the door and never return. And who would blame her? And so I stayed, at first wishing death to every student saw who I thought might potentially have been the one who damaged my car. Then, gradually, I let go of some of the anger and returned to the purpose at hand, though I can honestly say that I still wasn't terribly motivated to be there. I was ill and annoyed and tired, and nearly fainted a few times. (Couldn't figure that one out until later ... and no, I'm not pregnant.) I wound up nearly falling asleep at the wheel on the way home and thought it best not to go to my university classes, though I REALLY could have used the venting session. Maybe that was for the best, too. Here's hoping that the new teacher and I survive this coming week. Between student unrest, illness, and teacher troubles (remind me to tell you about my team's lack of TEAMness later) we'll be thrilled to see Saturday.