Have you ever realized that the above idiom has two opposing
meanings? If all of your hardships are over, and you’re on your way towards
completing a goal you might say, “It’s all downhill from here.” On the contrary,
if one was describing something they were doing which fell apart, they might
say, “Once Jason punched Sally, my
lesson was done for – it was all downhill from there.” Food for thought.
Anywho,
I've heard current students, graduates, and teachers alike describe student teaching as rite of passage, a struggle to be seen by each
teacher-to-be.
Each day begins with two adult professionals, talking
theoretically about the techniques and practices, and must-dos and don’ts, of
this day or of every day’s lessons. Maybe they don’t talk about these things each
morning, but there’s an assumption of professionalism in the air between these two teachers. Then, these people transform, and lower their defenses and attempt to
emotionally connect with a classroom full of youngsters. They each do this one at a time, separately from the other. The
other professional watches, and consciously or subconsciously critiques the
delivery of the other’s real self. Then you unwind it, you come back. You act
as if you weren't just pouring yourself out. You’re back to the theoretical.
This seems to breed awkwardness at best, miscommunication at
worst. I salute those student teachers who made it through this year unscathed. You're going to do great.
I suppose this is all part of the balancing act, and I agree that student teaching is a necessary initiation.
I used to say, “Why don’t we begin student teaching in Core 1? It’s surely the
most valuable part of our education. We should get as much of it as we can.” This is true, but I probably would have
bailed on teaching as a whole if I would have experienced this early on. It’s
like that episode of Community, where
Abed watches too many Nick Cage movies in too short of a time period, and gets
in too deep too quickly. If you’re not an expert at jumping rope, you should wait for
the rope to come around a few times, rhythmically clicking against the
pavement. Then you jump in. Sometimes the watching from afar doesn't help enough, but at least you're committed enough once you get there that you cannot turn around.
If one general idea could represent what I've
learned from student teaching this semester – it’s that teaching seems to be
more of a “how” question than a “what” question. Techniques and practices
approved by motivational speakers and highly regarded by our teaching heroes
are only as good as our classroom environment and our students’ ability to
accept these ideas actively and genuinely. This isn't to say, "ignore them," it's just that everything needs adaptation. I find myself asking, "Is it real? Or does it just look good on paper?" Not everything “real” looks good on paper. Not
everything that looks good on paper is “real.” How do we deal with this? I
don’t know yet. Drop me a line if you figure it out. Turns out, learning is
hard to measure. Nonetheless, thinking about this has been useful. We all have to find ways to reach the standards. I think it's important we're focusing on actually meeting them, instead of focusing on showing that we're meeting them.
Bomer says, "A reader's knowledge about a topic, feeling, or domain of experience includes memories related to it from her own life" (106). The standards repeat the importance of capturing this real-world relevance throughout the reading, writing, and listening portions of our lessons. However, I think it can be easy to print off a worksheet which is designed to exactly cover the basis of the standards in a fakeish, checklist-like manner. I've become cautious cautious of the phrase "There's no need to re-invent the wheel." Sometimes, it's creating something from my own brain which really makes me connect to the students in the lesson. Maybe it's just a personal thing, but it seems to help me.
