HEATHER
MIGDON
Diary #12
Comfortable
in My Own Skin
It wasn't until I boarded the bus that I realized how nervous I was. In less than forty minutes, I would be at my school, and in less than two hours, I would see my students for the first time in twelve days.
I was experiencing jitters not unlike the jitters even veteran teachers feel when seeing a brand-new class in September. My students would not be new to me, but I dreaded the possibility that they would behave as if my classroom rules and procedures were new to them.
It is common knowledge among my faculty that, for most of our students, school provides the only stability and structure in their turbulent lives. That conclusion is particularly disturbing to me because I find my school to be unorganized at best and absolutely chaotic at worst. Knowing that many of my sixth graders essentially raise themselves as well as some younger siblings, I had little trouble believing that students were at their worse immediately following an extended vacation. I did not look forward to seeing them that morning.I paced my classroom, at times speaking aloud to myself, scrutinizing my daily plan on the chalkboard. Would the lessons I prepared keep them engaged enough not to kill each other? I worked out back-up plans in my mind to implement in case my Plan A bombed. I debated how to compensate for the anxiety I was feeling. Would I play the role of drill sergeant, reprimanding every child for every infraction I witnessed, or would I be extra nice and excuse any rule breaking as forgetfulness on their parts?
I had yet to answer my own questions when I looked at the clock and realized that my students would be entering the room within a few minutes.
Before I knew it, in walked my early arrivals — and an amazing thing happened. As soon as I saw the first student, all of my anxiety melted away. The butterflies in my stomach did not go away, but they began to fly in unison. These were MY students, and even though I had only been their teacher since December, we had spent a huge fraction of our waking hours together for months.
I felt so comfortable right then — comfortable enough to loudly remind all students to begin their morning warm-up, which was on the front board. Before I could open my mouth, however, I realized the students were taking their seats, getting out notebooks and pencils, and beginning their work, just as we had done so many days before our spring break. It seemed that my students had not, as I had feared, forgotten everything I had taught them.
As the morning progressed, it didn't take long before I noticed a difference in my own demeanor. Instead of playing a role, I was being myself. I was at last able to relax and rely on my teacher instincts, eight months in the making, to guide me through the day.
I was experiencing for myself what so many master teachers preach — that we should be ourselves while teaching. It's one thing to tell a novice teacher to act naturally, but it is quite another for s/he to be brave enough to actually try it. And I'm so glad I did. It took me eight months, but I was finally able be comfortable in my own skin in front of my students.
And to think
that my most significant turning point of the year occurred the first
day back from spring breakŠ
