My first lesson is tomorrow. I will be teaching a brief section on "comparing and contrasting." Until I met the kids, it seemed like an overly simplistic topic for a 50-minute lesson (the topic was assigned to me), but after seeing our students in action I feel that such a lesson will be useful, even if it does prove to be review.
I'm nervous, and excited, and cautiously confident. It is sometimes difficult, even after only ten days in the program, to remember why I chose to take this position. To wit, becoming a member of the Teacher Corps was not only something I chose, but also something I dreamed about and actively pursued. Standing in my dormroom this morning, looking at the dirty floor, beat-up desks, and generally unfavorable conditions, it was easy to wonder where else I could be. This is not to say that the summer has been difficult thusfar; I know I "ain't seen nothin' yet." It is the knowledge of how difficult this job will be that makes me think twice.
I still have difficulty getting out of bed so early. On the bus ride to school each morning, I sit quietly, with few thoughts in my head, asleep but for the fact that my eyes are open. I watch the scenery pass as we head to Holly Springs: churches, shacks, fields, farms. Small homes. Untethered dogs. Men gathering the morning paper. I don't really see a poverty-stricken area, I just see lower-middle class America. I sigh, tired and wary of the teenaged mayhem that waits at the end of the bus ride. I imagine the other places I could be and the places I have been.
But then we get to school. And I step off the bus. And I leave everything that is bothering me behind, as I should. I walk into Holly Springs High School, looking at the kids who will sit in my class and other classes that day. They look at me and my attitude changes. I wonder how I could have ever doubted this decision, even if that doubt was less than lackluster, less than fleeting. I walk up the stairs to the English II classroom. I get excited for the day to come, for the lessons I will teach, for the questions I will answer, for the students that will challenge me. I breathe in. I wait for the students. I wait to teach. And teach I will.
I'm nervous, and excited, and cautiously confident. It is sometimes difficult, even after only ten days in the program, to remember why I chose to take this position. To wit, becoming a member of the Teacher Corps was not only something I chose, but also something I dreamed about and actively pursued. Standing in my dormroom this morning, looking at the dirty floor, beat-up desks, and generally unfavorable conditions, it was easy to wonder where else I could be. This is not to say that the summer has been difficult thusfar; I know I "ain't seen nothin' yet." It is the knowledge of how difficult this job will be that makes me think twice.
I still have difficulty getting out of bed so early. On the bus ride to school each morning, I sit quietly, with few thoughts in my head, asleep but for the fact that my eyes are open. I watch the scenery pass as we head to Holly Springs: churches, shacks, fields, farms. Small homes. Untethered dogs. Men gathering the morning paper. I don't really see a poverty-stricken area, I just see lower-middle class America. I sigh, tired and wary of the teenaged mayhem that waits at the end of the bus ride. I imagine the other places I could be and the places I have been.
But then we get to school. And I step off the bus. And I leave everything that is bothering me behind, as I should. I walk into Holly Springs High School, looking at the kids who will sit in my class and other classes that day. They look at me and my attitude changes. I wonder how I could have ever doubted this decision, even if that doubt was less than lackluster, less than fleeting. I walk up the stairs to the English II classroom. I get excited for the day to come, for the lessons I will teach, for the questions I will answer, for the students that will challenge me. I breathe in. I wait for the students. I wait to teach. And teach I will.
posted by Adam Ewing at 10:21 PM
1 Comments:
"Untethered dogs." ~ excellent phrasing.
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