My First Year in the Classroom by Stephen D. Rogers

Author:Stephen D. Rogers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
ISBN: 9781440513879
Publisher: Adams Media, Inc.
Published: 2009-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Lessons Learned

by Nancy Kelly Allen

I HOPE I CAN. I hope I can. I hope I can.

The mantra echoed through my mind as I climbed up the two long, steep sets of stairs to the eighth-grade classroom where twenty-five students would soon greet me on my first day of school.

For the students, half of their school year was complete. I was their third teacher that year. Should I feel charmed or alarmed

As I was young and innocent, I looked at the positive side of life and chose to feel charmed, until the students walked through the door. Some were a foot taller and seventy pounds heavier than me.

The principal introduced me in a no-nonsense manner and privately advised, “Don’t show your pearly whites in a smile until the last day of school, and keep the students busy.”

I looked around the classroom at the students. The students looked at me. None looked as nervous as I felt. After introductions, I set them to work silently reading a chapter on the Civil War in their history books. The silence lasted almost as long as the BB-size cough drop in my mouth.

I must have said “Quiet” more often than all the Civil War generals together said “Charge!”

One student walked into the classroom about fifteen minutes after class had started.

I asked, “Where have you been ”

“I was confused,” he said, his voice dripping with mock apology.

“I thought we had PE and I went to the gym by mistake.”

“I see,” I said, not seeing at all, especially as he looked around and grinned at his friends. Muffled laughter coursed around the classroom.

That afternoon, so many students needed to use the restroom so many times, I thought an outbreak of a bladder virus had swept through the school.

I survived that first day, but it was the longest seven hours of my life.

Sure, I had diplomas. Sure, I had the requisite student teaching experience. Sure, those and pocket change would buy me a cup of coffee.

I quickly learned the names of my students, but more important, I gradually learned the students.

One day, I noticed that an outgoing student was unusually quiet. During class I eased over to him and asked if he was feeling well. He shrugged. I could hear the heartbeat of disappointment in his body language. A few minutes later he told me his father left home and he was afraid his parents would divorce.

Every day at 12:30, we got down to the serious business of lunch. I always sat with my students in the cafeteria. When we were there, we set aside class work, discipline problems, and all things school.

Those moments fueled rich personal discussions. We chatted about issues of interest to each of us: the delicious chicken on our plates, a hit song by Rod Stewart, a new baby brother for one, a new home for another, a divorce, or a remarriage. Most of the discussions were low-key and packed with humor. Humor was the universal language that every student understood.

I declared the last hour of the last Friday of each month Special Friday.

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